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T IB E 

LAYS 



OF 



PISLIF M4SSS1GEE 



CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY, 

BY W . ©IIIFF.(S)IEB, 



T H I RD EDITION. 










r SAVIOURS cmjR€H. SOUTHWAKK.THE BnSIAl, Pl^CE OF MASSIN&Ea. 
FROM A PEIMT Bl HOLLAR, . 






THE PLAYS 



PHILIP MASSINGER, 



WESTEKN RESERVE 

HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 
CLEVELAND, 0. 



THE 



PLAYS 

OP 

PHILIP MASSINGER, 



^ 



NOTES, CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY, 

Entered 
Pai?eio4 Bi BY WILLIAM GIFFORD. 



HAUD TAMEN INVIDEAS VOTA QUEM PULPITA PASCUWT. 



a N£5m 3£&ition, 
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 



N E W - Y O K K : 

H . B . M A H N , 6 1 JOHN S T R E p: T. 

1860. 



A' 



-^^V.b^ 



r^%- 



TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 



CHAELES LONG, 



ONE OF THE LORDS OP HIS MAJESTY'S TREASURY, 



THIS EDITION 



THE WORKS 



PHILIP MASSINGER, 



18 INSCRIBED 



AS A SINCERE TESTIMONY OF RESPECT TO HIS PUBLIC CHARACTER, 



GRATITUDE FOR MANY ACTS OF FRIENDSHIP AND PERSONAL KINDNESS, 



BY 



May, 1805. 



HIS OBLIGED AND FAITHFUL SERVANT. 

» THE EDITOR. 



PREFACE. 



The present Edition of this admired writer has been published with a design of meeting the 
spirit of the age for cheap Hterature ; an^d its triumphant success is a gratifying proof of 
the manner in which the exertions of the pubhshers are appreciated. Previous to the 
appearance of this volume, the public, owing to the scarcity of former editions, possessed 
but a slight acquaintance with the writings of Massinger, and that derived only from occa- 
sional notices and extracts in periodicals, and the representation of " A New Way to 
Pay Old Debts," the onl^ one of his Plays still acted on the stage. In this undertaking, 
accuracy of text and good critical notes were deemed indispensable ; and the editor had 
but to choose between the gross negligence of Coxeter, and the odious vanity of Monk 
Mason, on the one hand, and the carefully and accurately edited compilation of Mr. GifFord, 
on the other. Never was an author under greater obligations to an editor, than is Massinger 
to GifFord. It is true his works had already appeared in a collected form ; but the bungling 
inaccuracies, unwarrantable interpolations, and absurd commentaries, which disfigured 
these editions, had rather contributed to involve the author in still deeper obscurity, 
than to rescue him from that in which he had originally slumbered. 

In his attempt to do justice to his favourite poet, Mr. Giftbrd had many difficulties to 
contend against, and no hope of assistance from the labours of his predecessors. Of a 
patient and vigorous cast of mind, his unclouded intellect was the first to form a due esti- 
mate of the manly productions of this author ; he sat down to his task as to a labour of 
love, and after careful and repeated collations of the text with the original editions, suc- 
ceeded in expunging from its pages a mass of stupid criticism and crude innovations, 
such as never, perhaps, disfigured the works of any other author. None but those 
who are acquainted with the editions referred to, can fully estimate the labours of 
this critic, of whose admirable qualifications as an editor, his exertions in favour of this 
abused poet will remain a lasting monument. He has been justly called by one wh^ 
was himself no common master of the art, " a giant in literature, in criticism, in poli- 
tics, and in morals, and an ornament and an honour to his country and the age in whif^ 
he lived." 

Brt for him, these exquisite dramas would be as little known to us as the uistitu 
tions of the Chinese ; and the rc-action of public taste in favour of the productions of 



yin PREFACE. 

our early dramatists, so conspicuous at the present day, received its first impulse from 
the endeavours of the translator of Juvenal, and the champion of Jonson and Massinger 
A valuable appendage to his labours, are the critical observations subjoined to each Phiy, 
the masterly delineation of Massinger's character, and the general criticism on his 
works, furnished by Dr. Ireland, the Dean of Westminster. 

There is something interesting in the consideration of this literary partnership; it 
reminds us of the old days of Beaumont and Fletcher, and Fletcher and Massinger, and 
Dekker and Greene ; and was not without a pleasing effect upon the feelings of the two 
friends. In closing his preface to Jonson, a splendid vindication of that calumniated 
poet, GifFord, in allusion to their long uninterrupted friendship, thus writes, " With what 
feelings do I trace the words of the Dean of Westminster. Five and forty springs have 
passed over my head since I first found Dr. Ireland, some years my junior, in our little 
school, at his spelling-book. During this long period our friendship ha^ been without a 
cloud, — my delight in youth, my pride and consolation in old age." The writer of tliese 
affectionate lines has long been an inhabitant of the dark and narrow houae ; he died on 
the last day of the year 1826, aged 70 ; and the survivor, for whom these tender senti- 
ments were expressed, well stricken in years, is fast hastening to the land where " the 
wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest." 

In Sir Walter Scott's Diary appears the following admirable character of GifFord • 
" As a commentator lie was capital, could he but have suppr^sed his rancours against 
those who had preceded him in the task ; but a misconstruction or misinterpretation, nay 
the misplacing of a comma, was in Gifford's eyes a crime worthy of the most severe 
anmiadversion. This lack of temper probably arose from indifferent health ; for he was 
very valetudinary, and realised two verses, wherein he says Fortune assigned him — 



" One eye not over 

Two sides that to their cost have stood 

A ten years' hectic cough, 
Aches, stitches, all the various ills 
That swell the devilish doctors' bills 

And sweep poor mortals off." 

But he might justly claim, as his* gift, the moral qualities expressed in the next fine 
stanza — 

" A soul 

That spurns the crowds' malign control, 

A firm contempt of wrong ; 
Spirits above affliction's power, 
And skill to soothe the lingering hour 

With no inglorious song." 

The rigour, with which the derelictions of his predecessors weie visited, auuvp 
alluded to, is displayed in an uncommon degree in the work belure us; anu lour 



PREFACE. M 

years after its first appearance in 1805, tiie Edinburgh Reviewers," losing their sense of 
the criminal's guilt in dislike of the savage pleasure which the executioner seemed to 
take ia inflicting the punishment," appeared as the champions of Monk Mason and 
Coxeter, and had the hardihood to attack not only the judgment but even the accuracy 
of Giftbrd. 

In his second edition of 18 13, the abused commentator turned upon his foes, and in a pre- 
face, powerful and energetic, successfully defended himsell from their aspersions; with regard 
to the charge of inaccuracy, he justly says, — " I did not expect this. I will take upon me 
to assert, that a more perfect text of an old poet never issued from the English press. It 
was revised in the first instance with a care of which there is scarcely an example ; and a 
subsequent examination enables me to speak with a degree of positiveness on the subject 
which sets all fear of contradiction at defiance." An accusation, such as the above, 
could .only have been made by those who had never looked into Coxeter and Monk 
Mason's editions, or had never consulted the old copies. From internal evidence, it 
appears that all that these reviewers knew of Massinger and his editors, was learned 
from the very " Introduction" whose accuracy they pretended to impeach. 

It has been the fate of Massinger to have been generally but imperfectly understood 
or appreciated by the lovers of the Drama; while to Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher^ 
have been assigned- the place nearest to Shakspeare in the scale of superiority, he has 
scarcely ever been mentioned but as a writer of inferior merit. Although far from con- 
curring in the opinion of GifFord, which would reduce Shakspeare to the level of his 
contemporaries, it appears to us that singular injustice has been done to this harmonious 
poet. Hazlitt, whose genius revelled in the more glowing conceptions of the Swan of 
Avon, has pronounced this harsh sentence on Massinger : — " Massinger makes an 
impression by hardness and repulsiveness of manner. In the intellectual processes which 
he delights to describe, * reason panders will ;' he fixes arbitrarily on some object 
which there is no motive to pursue, or every motive combined against it, and then, by 
screwing up his heroes and heroines to the deliberate and blind accomplishment of this, 
thinks to arrive at ' the true pathos and sublime of life.' That is not the way. He 
seldom touches the heart or kindles the fancy." Did Mr. Hazlitt forget the speech of 
Sforza before the Emperor in " The Duke of Milan," that noble picture of a good man 
bnfFetting with adversity; or the pathos of " The Fatal Dowry;" the fine character of 
Pisander in " The Bondman ;" the interview betwe?;n Don John Antonio, disguised as a 
slave, and his mistress, in " A Very Woman ;" or those splendid conceptions, Luke and 
Sir Giles Overreach, in " The City Madam," and " A New Way to Pay Old Debts" ? 
Our respect for Hazlitt, as a critic, is great ; but we certainly cannot assent to his low 
estimate of Massinger. Schlegel, who bestows so much elaborate and philosophical criti- 
cism upon his contemporaries, dismisses the merits of this writer in a few lines, conspicuous 
neither for justice nor an intimate acquaintance with the writings he professes to criticize- 
The late Charles Lamb was one of the first to direct the public attention to the works of 
this and other of our neglected dramatists ; and it has been admirably observed by a late 
writer in the " Quarterly Review," that Lamb's Essays and Giflford's editions have most 
powerfully contributed to disseminate a knoivledge of the manly and vigorous writers of the 



K PREFACE. 

Elizabethan age. In the year 1786 an elegant essay on the dramatic writings of Mas- 
singer by Dr. Ferriar, appeared in the third volume of the " Manchester Transactions," 
and was afterward.s, with permission of the author, reprinted by Gifford at the close of his 
introduction. In this pfleasing performance the plays of Massinger are philosophically 
analysed ; and the cause of the general neglect of our old dramatists is ingeniously attri- 
buted to their too frequent delineation of perishable manners. 

In his closing notice of Massinger, Dr. Ireland feelingly observes, " It is truly sur- 
prising that the genius which productd these Flays should have obtained so little notice 
from the world /' and Hallam, the critic who next to Gifford displays the most profound 
knowledge of his writings, and the fullest appreciation of his genius, does not hesitate to 
place iiim as a tragic writer second only to Shakspeare, and in the lighter comedy scarcely 
inferior to Jonson. Any comparison of Massinger to Shakspeare would be invidious; but 
though second to that great writer in the vastness and variety of his conceptions, he may 
certainly take the lead of those who have hitherto been considered his superiors. His in- 
vention is as fertile, and his management of his plots as ingenious, as those of Beaumont and 
Fletcher; while the poetry of his language, the knowledge of human nature, and the fine 
development of the passions displayed in his Tragedies, can only be surpassed by the great 
master himself. By Ben Jonson he is excelled in the studied exactness and classical 
polish of his style ; but in the freezing coldness of this writer he is deficient. The charm 
of his Plays consists in the versatility of his imagination, and the fine bursts of pathos 
which embellish his tender scenes. In his female characters he is particularly happy ; 
and while proclaiming our veneration for Juliet, Desdemona, or Cordelia, we should 
not heedlessly overlook the graces of Dorothea*, Theocrinef, MatildaJ, CamioIa§, 
and Pulcheria||. 

Massingerwasthelastof his tribe — ultimus Romanorum. With him expired the dra- 
matic genius of this country. In the anarchy which followed the outbreak of the civil 
war, the stage was neglected, and the emasculated school of dramatic poetry, subse- 
quently founded by Dry den and his followers, can never bear comparison with the 
productions of the vigorous intellects of the Elizabethan era. Since that period many 
unsuccessful attempts have been made to revive the drama ; and though many have 
appeared bearing an outward resemblance to our old plays, yet that true dramatic 
essence, which can only flourish in a soil uncorrupted by ultra refinement, is evidently 
wanting. 

• Virgin Martyr, t Unnatural Combat, t Bashful Lover. § Maid of Honour. U Emperor of the East 



TNTRODUCTIOlM. 



Phimp Massinger, the author of the following 
Plays, was born in the year 1584. Of his mother 
nothing is known ; but his father was Arthur INIas- 
singer*, a gentleman attached to the family of 
Henry second Earl of Pembroke : " Many years," 
says the poet, to his descendant, Philip Earl of 
Montgomery, "my father spent in the service of 
your honourable house, and died a servant to it." 

The writers of Massinger's life have thought it 
necessary to observe in this place, that the word 
servant carries with it no sense of degradation. 
This requiresno proof: at a period when the great 
lords and officers of the court numbered inferior 
nobles among their followers, we may be confident 
that neither the name nor the situation was looked 
upon as humiliating. Many considerations united to 
render this state of dependance respectable, and 
even honourable. J he secretaries, clerks, and assist- 
ants, of various departments, were not then, as now, 
nominated by the Government ; but left to the 
clioice of the person who held the employment ; 
and as no particular dwelling was officially set 
apart for their residence, they were entertained in 
the house of their principal. 

That communication, too, between noblemen of 
power and trust, both of a public and private nature, 
which is now committed to the post, was, in those 
(lays, managed by conlidenlial servants, who were 
dispatched from one to the other, and even to the 
sovereignf: when to this we add the unbounded 



* His father was Arthur Massinyer,] " I cannot giie«s," 
Davits says, "from what information Oldys, in his manu- 
script nuies (to Langbaine), gives the (Jhrislian name of 
Arthur to Massiiiger's father, nor why lie should reproach 
AV'ood for calling him Philip ; since Massinger himself, in 
the Dedication of " The Bondman," to the Eail of Mont- 
eomery, says expressly that his father Philip Massinger 
liv^'l and died in the service of the honourable house of 
Pembroke." Life of Massinger prefixed to the last edi- 
tion. 

This preliminary observation augurs but ill for the accu- 
racy of what follows. Oldys, who was a very careful writer, 
got hii information from the first ediiion of " The Bond- 
man," 16'23, which, it appears from this, Mr. Davies never 
»aw. In the second edition, published many years alter the 
lirst (1G38), he is, indeed, called Philip; but that is not the 
only error in the Dedication, which, is well as the Play it- 
self, IS most carelessly printed. 

t An instance of this occurs with respect to MaSsinger's 
father, who was thus employed to Elizabeth : " Mr. Massinger 
IS newly come up from the Earl of Pembroke with letters 
to the Queen, for Ihs lordship's leave to be away this St. 
George's day." Sidney Letters, Vol. IT p. 933. The bearer 
of letters to Elizabett. on an occasion which she perhaps 
thought important, could, as Davies justly observes, bt no 



state and grandeur which the great men of EIiza« 
beth's days assumed on a variety of occasions, we 
may form some idea of the nature of those services 
discharged by men of birth and fortune, and the 
manner in which such numbers of them were em- 
ployed. 

Massinger was born, as all the writers of his life 
agree, at Salisbury, probably at Wilton, the seal of 
the Earl of Pembroke, in whose family he appears 
to have been educated. When he reached his six- 
teenth year, he sustained an irreparable loss in the 
death of that worthy nobleman*, who, from attach- 
ment to the father, would, not improbablv, have 
extended his powerful patronage to tlie young poet. 
He was s.icceeded in his titles and estates bv his 
son William, the third Earl of Pembroke ; one of the 
brightest characters that adorned the court of Eliza- 
beth and James. "lie was," says Wood, "not 
only a great favourer of learned and ingenious men, 
but was himself learned, and endowed toadmiratioa 
with a poetical geny, as by those amorous and 
poetical aires and poems of his composition doth 
evidently appear ; some of which had musical notes 
set to them by Hen. Lawes and Nich. Laneare." 
Ath. 1. 546. 

Massinger's father continued in the service of 
this nobleman till his death. It is not possible to 
ascertain the precise period at which this took place, 
but it was not later, perhaps, than 1606 : in the 
interim he had bestowed, as Langbaine says, a 
liberal education on his son, and sent hira to the 
University of Oxford, where he became a com- 
moner of St. Alban's Hall (1602), in the eighteenth 
year of his age. Wood's account varies from this 
in several particulars. He says, he was entered 
at St. Alban's Hall in 1601, when he was in his 
seventeenth year, and supported there, not by his 
father, but the Earl of Pembroke. Antony had 



mean person : for no monarch ever exacted from the nobi- 
lity in general, and the otlicers of state in particular, a more 
rigid and scrupulous compliance to stated order, Ih in this 
princess. 

* Death of that worthy nobleman.] This took place on 
the I'.ith of January, 1601. It is impossible to speak of him 
without mentioning, at the same time, that he was the hoi- 
band of Sir Philip Sidney's sister, the all-accoraplished \»(lf 
for whom Jonson wrote the celebrated epitaph : 
" Underneath this marble herse. 
Lies the subject of all verse, 
Sidney's sister, Pembroke'^ mother; 
Death, ere thou hast slain another, 
Tearn'd, and fair, and good as the. 
Time shall throw a dart at thee." 



INTRODUCTION. 



many opportunities for ascertaining these facts, if he 
had desired to avail himself of them, and therefore 
Davies inclines to his authority. The seeming dif- 
feren.'e, he adds, between the two periods respect- 
ively assigned for Massinoer's matriculation, may 
be easili) "recmtciled, fur the year then beg;in and 
ended according to that mode which took place be- 
fore the alteration of the style. It is seldom safe 
to speak bv guess, and Davies had no authority for 
his ino-enious solution ; which unfortunately will 
not apply in the present case. The memorandum 
of iAlassinger's entrance now lies before me, and 
proves Wood to be incorrect; i'- is dated May 14, 
IGfM*. How he came to mistake in a matter where 
it required so little pains to be accurate, is diiEcult 
to say. 

Langbaine and Wood agree in the time Massinger 
spent at Oxford, but differ as to the objects of his 
pursuit. The former observes, that during his 
residence there he applied himself closely to his 
studies ; while the latter writes, that he " gave his 
mind more to poetry and romances for about four years 
or more, than to logic and philosophy, which he ought 
to have done, as he was patronized to that end." 
What ideas this tasteless but useful drudge had of 
logic and philosophy it may be vain to enquire ; but, 
with respect to the first, Massinger's reasoning will 
not be found deficient either in method or effect ; 
and it might easily be proved that he was no mean 
proficient in philosophy of the noblest kind : the 
truth is, that he must have applied himself to study 
with uncommon energy ; for his literary acquisitions 
at this early period appear to be multifarious and 
extensive. 

From the account of Wood, however, Davies 
conclutles that the Earl of Pembroke was offended 
at this misapplication of his time to the superficial 
bat alluring pursuits of poetry and romance, and 
therefore withdrew his support, which compelled 
the youui; man to quit the University without a de • 
gree; " for which," adds he, "attention to logic and 
philosophy was absolutely necessary; as the candi- 
date for that honour must pass through an examina- 
tion in both, before he can ubtain ii." Dans ie pays 
des aveugles, says tlie proverb, les borgnes sont rois: 
and Davies, who apparently had not these valuable 
acquisitions, entertained probably a vast idea of 
tLeir magnitude and importance. A shorter period, 
however, than four years, would be found amply 
suflScient to furnish even an ordinary mind with 
enough of school logic and philosophy, to pass the 
examination for a bachelor's degree; and I am, 
therefore, unwilling to believe that Massinger 
missed it on the score of incapacity ia these notable 
arts. 

However this may be, he certainly left the Uni- 
versity abruptly ; not, I apprehend, on account of 
the Earl of Pembroke withholding his assistance, for 
it does not appear that he ever afforded any, but of a 
much more calamitous event, the death of his fa- 
ther ; froi]^ whom, I incline to think with Lang- 
baine, his sole support was derived. 

Why tUe Earl of Pembroke, the liberal friend 
and protector of literature iu all its branches!, ne- 



• In it he is styled the son of a gentleman : " I'hilip Mas- 
singer, HarisbuTiensig, generosi filius." 

+ To this nobleman (ami liis younger brother Philip) 
Hemiuge andCoiidellderticaied their edition of ShakspeareY 



glected a young man to whom his assistance vraa 80 
necessary, and who, from the acknowledged services 
of his father, had so many and just claims on it ; one, 
too, who would have done his patronage such singular 
honour, I have no means of ascertaining ; thai he was 
never indebted to it is, I fear, indisputable, since the 
poet, of whose character gratitude forms a striking 
part, while he recurs perpetually to his hereditary 
obligations to the Herbert family, anxiously avoids 
all mention of his name. I sometimes, indeed, 
imagine that I have discovered the cause of this 
alienation, but cannot flatter myself that it will be 
very generally or even partially allowed: not to 
keep the reader in suspense, I attribute it to the 
poet's having, during his residence at tlie Univer- 
sity, exchanged the religion of hia father, for one, 
at this time the object of jjersecution, hatred, and 
terror. A close and repeated perusal of JMassinger's 
works has convinced me that he was a Catholic. 
"The Virgin-Martyr," " 'i he Pienegado," " i'he 
Maid of Honour," exhibit innumerable proofs of it; 
to say nothing of those casual intimations that are 
scattered over his remaining dramas : a consciousness 
of this might prevent him from applying to the Earl 
of Pembroke for assistance, or a knowledge of it 
might determine that nobleman to withhold his 
hand : for it is difficult to believe that his displea- 
sure (if he really entertained any) could arise from 
Massinger's attachment to an art of which lie and 
his brother* were universally considered as the 
patrons, and which, indeed, he himself cultivated, 
with assiduity at least, if not with successf. 

However this be, the period of Massinger's mis- 
fortunes commenced with his arrival "in Lgndon. 
His father had probably applied most of his pro])erty 
to the education of his son ; and when the small 
remainder was exhausted, he was driven (as he 
more than once observes) by his necessities, and 
somewhat inclined, perhaps, by the peculiar bent of 
his talents, to dedicate himself to the service of the 
stage. 

This expedient, though not the most prudent, 
nor, indeed, the most encouraging to a young ad- 
venturer, was not altogether hopeless. Men who 
will ever be considered as the pride and boast of 
their country, Shakspeare, Johnson, and Fletclier, 
were solely, or in a considerable degree, dependent on 
it : nor were there others wanting of an inferior rank, 
such as Rowley, Middleton, Field, Decker, Shirley, 
and Ford ; writers to whom Massinger, without 
any impeachment of his modesty, might consider 
himself as fully equal, who subsisted on the emolu- 
ments derived from dramatic writing. 'J'here was 



Plays; to him, also, Jonson inscribed his Epigrams, "as the 
great example of honour and viitue," an idea on wliich he 
enlarged in one of his minor poems. It is evident that there 
was little cordiality between Jonson and our Author ; the 
former could bear no rival near the throne: 

nunquam partitur amicum. 

Solus habet : 
yet it would be unjust to accuse, or even to suspect him of 
doing Massinger an ill office with his father's friend, on no 
better grounds than hia unhappy disposition. 

• The first folio edition of Beaumont and Fletcher's Plays 
was dedicated, by the players, to the Earl of Montgomery. 

t In 1660 was published a collection of " amorous and 
poetical airs and compositions," Wood tells us, " with this 
title : Poems written by VVUliam Karl of Pembroke, &c., 
many of ivhich are answered by way of repartee, by .Sir 
Benj. Rudyard, with other Poems written by theft* ocea- 
sionally and apart." Atheu. Vol. I. p. 5 16 



INTRODUCTION. 



also something^ to tempt the ambition, or, if it must ' 
bo so, flie vanity, of a young adventurer in this pur- 
suit • literature was the sole means by which a per- 
son undistinguished by birth and fortune could, 
at this time, ho|)e to acquire the familiarity, or 
secure the friendship, of the great; and of all its 
branches none was so favourably received, or so 
liberally encouraged, as that of the drama. 'J'ilts 
and tournaments, the boisterous but magnificent 
entertainments of the court, together with pageant- 
ries and processions, the absurd and costly mum- 
meries of the city, were rapidly giving way to 
more elegant and rational amusements, to re- 
vels, masks, and plays : nor were the latter 
merely encouraged by the presence of the nobility ; 
the writers of them were adopted into the number 
of their acquaintance, and made at once the objects 
of their bounty and esteem. It is gratifying to 
observe how the names of Shakspeare, Jonson, 
&c., are come down to us in connection with 
the Sidneys, the Pembrokes, the Southamptons, and 
other great and splendid ornaments of the courts of 
Elizabeth and James. 

Considerations of this or a similar kind may na- 
turally be supposed to have had their weight with 
Massinger, as with so many others : but. wh;itever 
was the motive, Wood informs us, that "being 
sufficiently famed for several specimens of wit, he 
betook himself to making plays." Of what 
description these specimens were, Antony does not 
say ; he probably spoke without much examination 
into a subject for which he had little relish or soli- 
citude ; and, indeed, it seems more reasonable to 
conclude, from the peculiar nature of ]\Iassinger's 
talents, that the drama was his first and sole pur- 
suit. 

It must appear singular, after what has been ob- 
served, that with only one exception we should hear 
nothing of Massinger for the long period of sixteen 
years, that is, from his first appearance in London, 
1606 to 162'2, when his "Virgin Martyr," the first 
of his printed works, was given to the public. 
That his necessities would not admit of relaxation in 
nis efforts for subsistence, is certain ; and we have 
the testimony of a contemporary poet, as preserved 
by L.angbaine, for the rapidity with which he usually 
composed : 

" Ingenious Shakespeare, Massinger, that knows 
The strength of plot, to write in verse and prose, 
V\ hose easy Pegasus will amble o'er 
Some threescore miles of fancy in a hour." 

The best solution of the difficulty which occurs 
to me, is, that the poet's modesty, combined with 
the urgency of his wants, deterred him, at first, 
from attempting to write alone : and that he, there- 
fore, lent his assistance to others of a more con- 
fiirned reputation, who could depend on a ready 
vent for their joint productions. When men labour 
for the demands of the day, it is imprudent to leave 
much to hazard ; such certainly was the case with 
Massinger. 

Sir Aston Cockayne, the affectionate friend and 
patron of our author, printed a collection of, what 
be is pleased to call. Poems, Epigrams, &c., in 
1658. Among these, is one addressed to Hum- 
phrey Moseley, the publisher of Beaumont and 
Fletcher in folio : 

" In the large book of plays you late did print 

In Beaumont and in Fletcher's name, why iii't ■ 



Did vou not justice give ; to each his due .' 
For iieaumont of those many writ but few : 
Antl Massinger in other few ; the main 
Being sweet issues of sweet Fletcher's brain 
But how came I, you ask, so much to know ? 
Fletcher's chief bosom friend inforra'd me so." 

Davies, for what reason I cannot discover, seems 
inclined to dispute that part of the assertion which 
relates to Massinger : he calls it vague and hearsay 
evidence, and adds, with sufficient want of preci- 
sion, " Sir Aston was well acquainted with Mas- 
singer, who would, in all probability, have com- 
municated to bis friend a circumstance so honourable 
to himself." There can be no doubt of it; and we 
may be confident that the information did come from 
him ; but Mr. Davies mistakes the drift of Sir 
Aston's expostulation : the fact was notorious, that 
Beaumont and Rlassinger had written in conjunction 
with Fletclier ; what he complains of is, that the 
main, the bulk of the book, should not be attributed 
to the latter, by whom it was undoubtedly composed. 
Beaumont died in 16l5, and Fletcher produced in 
the interval between that year and the period of hie 
own dfath (16'2.t), between thirty and forty plays: 
it is not, therefore, unreasonable to suppose that he 
was assisted in aj'eto of them by Massinger, as Sir 
Aston affirms ; it happens, however, that the fact 
does not rest solely on his testimony ; for we can 
produce a melancholy ])roof of it, from an authentic 
voucher, which the enquiries set on foot by the un- 
wearied assiduity of l\lr. Malone have occasioned 
to be dragged from the dust of Dulwich College : 

" To our most loving friend, Mr. Philip Hinchlow, 
esquire, These, 
" Mr. Hinchlow, 
" You understand our unfortunate extremitie, and 
I doe not thincke you so void of Cristianitie but 
that you would throw so much money into the 
Thames as wee request now of you, rather than en- 
danger so many innocent lives. You know there is 
x/. more at least to be receaved of you for the play. 
We desire you to lend us vl. of that ; which shall 
be allowed to you, without which we cannot be 
hAyled, nor I ]dity any more till this be dispatch'd. 
It will lose you xxl. ere the end of the next weeke, 
besides the hinderance of the next new play. Pray, 
sir, consider our cases with humanity, and now give 
us cause to acknowledge you our true friend in time 
of neede. Wee have entreated Mr. Davison to de- 
liver this note, as well to witness your love as our 
promises,, and alwayes acknowledgement to be ever 
" Your most thanckfuU and loving friends, 
" Nat Field." 

''The money shall be abated out of the money 
remayns for the play of Mr. Fletcher and ours. 

" Rob. Daeorne*." 

" I have ever found you a true loving friend to 
niee, and in soe small a suite, it beeinge honest, I 
hope you will not fail us. 

" Philip IMassinger.' 



• Robert Daboriie is the .tuthor oftwo Plays," The Christian 
Turned Turk," 4to, l(ilv,an<l'-The Poor Man's Comfort," 4to, 
lfi55. He was a gentleman of a liberal education, master of 
arts, and in holy orders. HU lumible forlnnes appear to have 
improved after this period, for there is extant a sermon 
preached by him at VVaterlord in Ireland, l(il8, "here the 
aiillu.rsof the" Hiographia Dramalica" think it probable thai 
he had a liviii;;. 



INTRODUCTION. 



" Indorsed : 
" Received by mee Robert Davison, of IMr. 
Hincblow, for tbe use of Mr. Daboerne, Mr. Feeld, 
Mr. Messenger, the sum of vl. 

" Rob. Davison*." 

This letter tripartite, wliich it is impossible to 
read without the most poignant regret at the distress 
of such men, fully establislies the partnership 
between Massinger and Fletcher, who must, indeed, 
have had considerable assistance to enable Iiim to 
bring forward the numerous plays attributed toliis 
name. 

We can now account for a part of the time which 
Massinger spent in London before his appearance 
in print as a professed writer for the stage : but this 
is not all. Among the manuscript plays collected 
with such care by Mr. Warburton (Somerset He- 
rald) and applied with such perseverance by his 
cook to the covering of his pies, were no less than 
twelve said to be written by Massingerf ; and 
though it is now made probable that two of the 
number do not belong to him, yet scattered notices 
of others wlwoh assuredly do, prove that he was not 
inactive. 



• Additions to Malone's Historical Account of the Eng- 
lish Staye, p. 488. 

t No less than twelve, &c.j Their titles, as given by Mr. 
Warburton, are — 

Minerva's 'Sacrifice, 

The Forced Lady. 

Antonio and Valia. 

The H Oman's Plot, 

The Tyrant. 

Philenzo aud Hippolita, 

T)ie Judije. 

Fast ayid iVelcome. 

Believe as you List. 

The Honour of Women. 
' The Noble Choice. And, 

The Parliament of Love. 
When it is added that, together witli these, forty other 
manuscript plays of various authors were destroyed, it will 
leadily be allowed that En<;lish literature has sehlom sus- 
tained a greater loss than by the >trange conduct of Mr. 
Warbi.rton, who, becoming the master of treasures which 
ages may not re-produce, lodyes them, as he says, in the hands 
of an ignorant servant, and when, after a lapse of years, he 
condescends to revisit his huards, finds that they have been 
burnt from an economical wish to save him tlie charges of 
more valuable brown paper! It is time to bring; on shore 
the book-hunting passenger* in Locher's " Navis Stultifera," 
and exchange him for one more suitable to the rest of the 
cargo. 

Tardy, however, as Mr. Warburton was, it appears that 
he came in time to preserve three dramas from the general 
wreck : 

The Second Maid's Tragedy. 
The Bu«hears. And, 
The Queen of Corsica. 
These, it is said, are now in the library of the Marquis of 
Lansdowne, where they will probably remain in safety, till 
moths, or damps, or fires, mingle their " forgotten dust" 
witli that of their late companions. 

When it is considered at how trifling an expense a manu- 
script play may be placed beyond the reach of accident, the 
witbholdini it from the press will be allowed to prove a 
strange indifference to the ancient literature of the country. 
The fact, however, seems to be, that these treasures are 
made subservient to the gratification of a spurious rage for 
notoriety ; it is not that any benefit may accrue from them, 
either to the proprietors or others, that manuscripts are now 
hoarded, but that A or B may be celebrated for possessing 
what no other letter of the alphabet can hope to acquire. 
Nor is this all. The hateful passion of literary avarice (a 
compound of vanity and envy) is becoming epidemic, and 



j Spem quoque nee parvam collecta volumina pnebent 
Calleo nee verbum, nee libri sentio mentem 
Attamen in magno per me servantur honork 



Four only of the plays named in Mr. Warburton'a 
list occur in the Office-book of Sir Henry Herbert, 
which is continued up to the latest period of JMas- 
singer's life: it is, therefore, evident that tiiey must 
have been written previous to its commencement, 
these, therefore, with " The Old Law," " The 
Virgin Rlartyr," " The Unnatural Combat," and 
" The Duke of Milan," which are also unnoticed in 
it, will sufficiently fill up the time till 1622. 

There are no data to ascertain the respective pe- 
riods at which these plays were produced. " Ihe 
Virgin IMartyr" is confidently mentioned by the 
former editors as the earliest of Massinger's works, 
probably because it was the first that appeared in 
print : but this drama, which they have considerably 
under-rated, in consequence, perhaps, of the dull 
ribaldry with which it is vitiated by Decker, evinces 
a style decidedly formed, a hand accustomed to com- 
position, and a mind stored with the richest acqui- 
sitions of a long and successful study. 

" The Old Law," which was not printed till 
many years after Massinger's death, is said to have 
been written by him in conjunction with Middleton 
and Rowley*. The latter of these is ranked by the 
author of "The Companion to the Play House," in 
the third class of dramatic writers ; higher, it is 
impossible to place him : but the former was a 
man of considerable powers, who has lately been 
the object of much discussion, on account of the 
liberal use Shakspeare is supposed to have made 
of his recently discovered iragi-comedy of " The 
Witchf." 

It is said, by Steevens, that "The Old Law" was 
acted in 1,559. If it be really so, Massinger's name 
must, in future, be erased from the title-page of 
that play, for he was, at that date, only in the fif- 



branching out in every direction. It has many of the worst 
symptoms of that madness which once raged among the 
Dutch for the possession of tulips; — here, as well as in Hol- 
l.ind, an ariificial rariiy is first created, and then made a 
plea for extortion or a ground for low-minded and selfish 
exultation. I speak not of works never intended for sale, 
and of which, therefore, the owner may print as few or as 
many as his feelings will allow ; but of those which are os- 
tensibly designed for the public, and which, notwithstanding, 
prove the editors to labour under this odious disease. Here 
an old manuscript is brought forward, and after a few i opies 
are printed, the press is broken up, that there may be a pre- 
tence for selling them at a price which none but a collector 
can reach : there, explanatory plates are engraved for a 
work of general n«e, and, as soon as twenty or thirty im- 
pressions are taken off, destroyed with gratuitous malice 
(for it deserves no other name), that there may be a marl 
competition for the favoured copies! To conclude, for this 
is no pleasant subject, books are purchased now at extrava- 
gant rates; not because they are good, but because they are 
scarce ; so that a fire, or an enterprising trunk-maker, that 
should take oft' nearly the whole of a worthless work, would 
instantly render the small remainder invaluable. 

* " The Parliament of Love" is entered on the stationers' 
books as the production of William Rowley. It is now 
known from infinitely better authority, the Official Register 
of the Master of the Revels, to be the composition nf^Mas- 
singer; indeed, the abilities of Rowley were altogether un- 
equal to the execution of such a work, to the style and 
manner of which his acknowledged performances bear not 
ihe slightest reseinblance. 

t It would be unjust to mention this manuscript Play, 
without noticing, at Ihe same time, the striking contrast 
which the conduct of its possessor, Mr. Isaac Reed, forms 
with that of those alluded to in the preceding note. " The 
Witch," from the circumstance mentioned above, was a 
literary curiosity of the most valuable kind; yet he printed 
it at his own expense, and, with a liberality that has found 
more admirers than imitators, gratuitously distributed the 
copies among his friends. It is thus placed out of the reach 
of accident. 



INTRODUCTION. 



eenth year of his age, and probably had not left 
he residence of his father. Steevens produces no 
authority for his assertion ; but as he does not 
usually write at random, it is entitled to notice. In 
Act III. Scene 1, of that play, in which the clown 
consults the church-book on the age of his wife, the 
clerk reads and comments upon it thus : — " Agatha, 
t])e daughter of Pollux, born in an. 1540, and now 
'tis 1399." The observation of Steevens is, pro- 
bably, founded upon this passage (at least I am 
aware of no other), and it will not, perhaps, be easy 
to conjecture why the authors should fix upon this 
particular year, unless it really were the current 
one. It is to no purpose to object that the scene is 
laid in a distant country, and the period of action 
necessarily remote, for the dramatic writers of those 
days confounded M climes and all ages with a fa- 
cility truly wonderful. On the whole, 1 am inclined 
to attribute the greater part of " The Old Law" to 
Middleton and Rowley: it has not many charac- 
teristic traits of JNIassinger, and the style, with the 
exception of a few places, which are pointed out by 
Dr. Ireland, is very unlike that of his acknowledged 
pieces. 

It is by no means improbable that Massinger, an 
author in high repute, was employed by the actors 
to alter or to add a few scenes to a popular drama, 
and that his ])retensions to this partnership of wit 
were thus recognized and established. A process 
like this was consonant to the manners of the age, 
when the players, who were usually the proprietors, 
exerted, and not unfrequently abused, the privilege 
of interlarding such pieces as were once in vogue, 
from time to time, with new matter*. Who will 
say that Shakspeare's claims to many dramas which 
formerly passed under his name, and probably with 
no intent, on the part of the publishers, to deceive, 
had not this or a similar foundation 1 

What has been said of " The Virgin Martyr," 
applies with equal, perhaps with greater force, to 
"The Unnatural Combat" and "The Duke of 
Milan," of which the style is easy, vigorous, and 
harmonious, bespeaking a confirmed habit of com- 
position, and serving, with the rest, to prove that 
Massinger began to write for the stage at an earlier 
period than has been hitherto supposed. 

Rlassinger appears for the first time ia the office- 
book of the iMasterof the Revels, Dec. 3, 1623, on 
which day his play of" The Bondman" was brought 
forward. About this time, too, he printed " I'he 
Duke of Milan," with a short dedication to Lady 
Katheriue Stanhopef ; in which he speaks with 



• A very curious instance ofthis occurs in ihe Otfice-Book 
of Sir Henry Herbert; — " Receiveil for the adding of a 
new scene to " Tlie Virgin Martyr," tliis 7tli of July, 1024, 
lOit." Such were the liberties taken wiih our old Plays ! 
" The Virgin Martyr" had now been a twelvemonth before 
the public, being printed in 16'^2; the new scene, which was 
probably a piece of low bulToonery, does not appear in the 
subsequent editions, which are iiure copies of the first; had 
that, howLver, not i)een committed to the press previous to 
these additions, we may be pretty contident that the whole 
would have come down to us as the joint production of Mas- 
singer and Decker. 

i Ladij Catherine Stanhope ;'] daughter of Francis Lord 
Hastings, and lirst wile of Philip Stanhope, Baron of Sliel- 
ford, and afterwards (1023) Earl of Chesterfield, a nobleman 



♦ This was Sir Henry's fee; for this mean and rapacious 
overseer not only insisted on being paid for allowing a new 
t'lay, bill for every triBing addition which might subsequeutlv 
te ma le to it. 



great modesty of his course of studies, to which he 
insinuates (what he more than once repeats in his 
subsetpient publications), misfortune rather than 
choice had determined him. 

In 1624, he published "The Bondman," and de- 
dicated it to Philip Earl of Montgomery, who being 
present at the first representation, had shown his 
discernment and good taste, by what the author 
calls a liberal sujfrage in its favour. Philip was the 
second son of Henry Earl of Pembroke, the friend 
and patron of Massinger's father. At an early age 
he came to court, and was distinguished by the par- 
ticular favour of Janjes I., who conferred the honour 
of knighthood upon him ; and, on his marriage* 
with Lady Susan VereJ, daughter of Edward P^arl 
of Oxford, and grand-daughter of William Lord 
Burleigh, gave him lands to a considerable amount, 
and soon afterwards created him a baron and an 
earl^. 



of gre.it honour and virtue. He opposed the hiuli court 
measures, till lie discovered that the parliament wtre vio- 
lently usurping on the prerogatives of the other branches of 
the state; when, after an inetteitual struggle to bring Ihi-ni 
into constitutional limits, and preserve peace, he joined ilie 
arms of his royal master. Shelford, the seat from which lie 
derived his title, was burnt in Ihe conflict, two of his "ou" 
fell in battle, and he himself sulfercd a long and severe j\u- 
prisonment ; yet he preserved his loyalty and faith, and died 
as he had lived, unblemished. 

• On his marriage.] There is an account of this marriage, 
in a letter from Sir Dudley Carlton to Mr. Winwood, which 
is preserved in the second volume (^f his AJemuircs, ana 
which, as atiording a very mrious picture of the gio.-Miess 
that prevailed at the court of James I.,ir.a) not be imworlhy 
of insertion : — " On St. John's day, we haa the inarriaiie oi 
Sir Philip Herbert and the Iiady Susan performed at White- 
hall, with all the honour could be done a great favourite. 
The court was great, and for that day put on the bc^t Drav- 
erle. The prince and Duke of Hoist led the bride to church; 
Ihe ((tieen followed her from thence. The king gave her, 
and she, in her tresses and trinkets, brided and brinled it so 
handsomely, and indeed became herself so well, that the king 
said, if he were unmarried, he would not give her, but kiep 
her himself. The marriage dinner was kept in the great 
chamber, where the prince and the Duke of Hoist, and the 
E,rfat lords and ladies, accompanied the bride. The ambas- 
sador of Venice wms the only bidden guest of strangers, 
and he had place above the Duke of Hoist, which the duke 
took not well. But after dinner, he was a." little pleased 
himself; for being brought into the closet to reliie himself, 
he was then suftered to walk out, his supper unthoiiglit of. 
At night, there was a mask in the hall, wliich, for conceit 
and fashion, was suitable to the occasion. The actors were 
the Earl of PembrokCithe Lord Willoby, Sir Samuel Hays, 
Sir Thomas Germain, Sir Robert Gary, Sir John Lee, Sir 
Richard Preston, and Sir Thomas Bager. There was no 
smnll loss that night of chains and jewels, and many great 
ladles were made shorter>4)y the skirls, and were very well 
served, that they could k?i|p cut no better. The presents of 
plate and other things given by the noblemen were valued 
at 2,5001.; but -fliat wfife-h made it a good marriage, was a 
gift of the king's, of 5001. land, for the bride's joynture. 
They were lodged in the council chamber, where the king, 
in his shirt and night gown, gave them a reveille -matin be- 
fore they were up, and spent a good time in or upon the 
bed, chuse which you w ill believe. No ceremony was omit- 
ted of bride-cakes, points, gaiters, and gloves, which have 
been ever since the livery of the court, and at night there 
was sewing into the sheet, casting off the bride's left hose, 
with many other petty sorceriest. Jan. 1605." 

X Lady Susan Vere,] To this lady Jonson addressed the 
poem beginning, 

" Were they that named you prophets? did they see 
Even in the dew of grace, what you would be? 
Or did our times require it, to behold 
A new Susanna equal to that old?" &c. Epig. civ. 
The dew nf grace is an elegant and beautiful periphrasis for 
the baptismal sprinkling. 

j Davies, after noticing the favours heaped on him, as re- 
corded by Lord Clarendon, petulanth adds, "But Clarendon, 

+ There is an allusion to one of these " petty sorceries' 
ill tbesueech of Mirtilla, " Guardian," Act. 111. S 



INTRODUCTION. 



This dedication, which is sensible, modest, and 
affectinpr, serves to prove thiit whatever niioht be 
the unfortunate; circumstance which dejirived the 
author of the patronage and protection of the elder 
branch of the Herberts, lie did not imagine it to be 
of a disgraceful nature ; or he would nut, in the face 
of the public, have appealed to his connections 
with the family : at the same time, it is manifest 
that some cause of alienation existed, otherwise he 
would scarcely have overlooked so fair an opportu- 
nity of alluding to the characteristic generosity of 
the Earl of Pembroke, whom on this, as on every 
other occasion, lie scrupulously forbears to name, 
or even to hint at. 

This dedication, which was kindly received, led 
the way to a closer connection, and a certain degree 
of familiarity, for which, perhaps, the approbation 
so openly expressed of " I'he Bondman," might 
be designed by Montgomery as an overture ; at a 
subsequent period*, Rlassinger styles the earl his 
"most singular good lord and patron," and speaks 
of the greatness of Lis obligations : 

" • mine being more 

"Than they could owe, who since, or heretofore, 
" Have labour'd with exalted lines to raise 
" Brave piles, or rather pyramids of praise 
" To Pembroke!, and his family." 

What pecuniary advantages he derived from the 
present address, cannot be known ; whatever they 
were, they did not preclude the necessity of writing 
for the stage, which he continued to do with great 



perliaps, did not know tlie real cause of Lord Herbert's ad- 
vanrtnicnt. Tlie btliavionr of the Scots on James's accession 
to tlie throne of England was generally obnoxious and much 
resentrd. At a nieiiingof English and Scotch at a horse race 
near Crovdnn, a sudden quarrel arose between them, occa- 
sioned b^ a Mr. Ramsey's St rikin<^ Philip Lord Herbert in 
the face with a switch. The Eiis;ii>li would have made it a 
national quarrel, and Mr. John Pinchbeck rode about the field 
with a dagger in his hand, crying, Let us break our fast with 
them here, and dine with them in London. But Herbert not 
resenting it, the Kinj; was so charmed with his peaceable dis- 
position, that he made him a knight, a barou, a viscount, and 
an earl, in one day." Life of Massinyer, p. liii. This is 
taken from Osborne, one of those gossipping talemongers in 
which ihe times of James so greatly abounded, and who, with 
Weldon, Wilson, Peyton, Sanderson, and others, contributed 
to propagate an iiihnite nnmber of scandalous stories, which 
should have been left iub /orficv, where most of them perhaps 
had birth What reliance may Ire placed on them, in general, 
is sulliciently apparent from the assertion of Osborne. The 
fact is, thai Herbert had long been a knight, and vas never a 
viscount. He was married in the beginning of lti05 (he was 
then Sir Philip), and created Baron Herbert of Shnrland in 
the Isle of Slieppy, and Karl of iMontgomery, June 4:h, in 
the same jear: and so far were these titles fiom being the 
reward of what Osborne calls his cow.ardici at Croydon, that 
they were all confened on him two years before that event 
took place. Osborne himself allows that if Montgomery had 
not, by his forbearance, " stanched Ihe blood then ready io 
be spill, not only that day, but all after, must have proved 
fatal to the Scots, so long as any had staid in England, • the 
royal family excepted, which, in respect to majesty, or their 
own safety, they must have spared, or the kingdom been 
left to the misery of seeing so mnch blood laid out as the 
trial of so many crabbe<l titles would have required." The 
prevention of these horrors might, in some minds, have 
raised feelings favourable to the temperance of the young 
earl ; but Osborne, whose object and whose otfce was ca- 
lumny, contrives to convert it into a new accusation : "they 
could not be tlide considerations," lie says, "that restrained 
Herbert, wlio wanted leisure, no less than capacity, to use 
them, though laid in his way by others!" 

Alemoirs of King James. 

* On the loss of his eldest son, who died of the small- 
pox at Florence, Jan. 163.5. 

+ Montgomery had now succeeded to the title and estates 
of his elder brother, who deceased April 10, 1(>30 



industry, seldom producing les^ than two new 
jiieces annually. In \6'i9, his occasions, perhaps, 
again pressing upon him, he gave to the press " The 
Heiiegado" and " The Roman Actor," both of which 
had now been several years before the public. The 
first of these he inscribed to Lord Berkeley in a short 
address composed with taste and elegance. He 
speaks with some complacency of the merits of the 
jiiece, but trusts that he shall live " to render his 
humble thankfulness in some higher strain :" this 
confidence in his abilities, the pleasing concomitant 
of true genius, Massinger often felt and expressed. 
The latter play he presented to Sir Philip Knyvet 
and Sir Thomas Jeay*, with a desire, as he says, 
that the world might take notice of his being in- 
debted to their support for power to compose the 
piece : he expatiates on their kindness in warm and 
energetic language, and accounts for addressing 
" the most perfect birth of his Minerva" to them, 
from their superior demands on his gratitude. 

Little more than four years had elapsed since 
"The Bondman" was printed; in that period 
Massinger had written seven plays, all of which, 
it is ])robable, were favourably received : it there- 
fore becomes a question, what were the emoluments 
derived from the stage which could thus leave a popu- 
lar and successful writer to struggle with adversity. 

There seem to have been two methods of dis- 
posing of a new piece; the first, and perhaps the 
most general, was to sell the copy to one of the 
theatres ; the price cannot be exactly ascertained, 
but appears to have fluctuated between ten and 
twenty pounds, seldom falling short of the former, 
and still more seldom, I believe, exceeding the 
latter. In this case, the author could only print his 
jday by permission of the proprietors, a favour 
which was sometimes granted to the necessities of a 
favourite writer, and to none, perhaps, more fre- 
quently than to Massinger. The other method wag 
by ofiering it to the stage for the advantage of 
benefit, which was commonly taken on the seconc 
or third night, and which seldom produced, there 
is reason to suppose, the net sum of twenty pounds, 
There yet remain the profits of publication : IMr. 
Malone, from whose " Historical Account of the 
English Stage" (one of the most instructive essays 
that ever appeared on the subject), many of these 
notices are taken, says, that, in the time of Shak- 
speare, the customary price was twenty nobles 
(61. 13s. 4d.) ; if at a somewhat later period we fix 
it at thirty (101.), we shall not, probably, be far from 
the truth. Ihe usual dedication fee, which yet re- 
mains to be added, was forty shillings : where any 
connection subsisted betwen the parties, it was doubt- 
less increased. 

^Ve may be pretty confident, therefore, that Mas- 
singer seldom, if ever, received for his most stre- 
nuous and fortunate exertions more than fifty 
pounds a-year; this, indeed, if regularly enjoyed, 
would be sufficient, with decent enconomy, to have 
preserved him from absolute want : but nothing is 
better known than the precarious nature of dramatic 
writing. Some of his pieces might fail of success 
(indeed, we are assured that they actually did so), 



• Sir Thomas Jeay was himself a poet : several commend- 
atory copies of verses by him are prefixed to Massinger's 
Plays. He calls the author his worthy friend, and gives 
many proofs that his esteem was founded on judgment, and 
his kiiiilness candid and sincere 



INTRODUCTION. 



OthtTS might experience a 'tliin tliird day ;" and a 
variety of circumstances, not difficult to enumerate, 
contribute to diminisii the petty sum which we iiave 
ventured to state as the maximum of ilie poet's re 
venue. Nor could tlie benefit which he derived 
from the press be very extensive, as of the seventeen 
dramas which make up liis printed works (exclusive 
of the " i'arliament of Love," which now apjiears 
for the fir.>t time"^, only tvielve were published dur- 
ing his life, and of these, two (" The Virgin- 
Martyr" and " The Fatal Dowry") were not wholly 
his own. 

In J 630 he printed " Tlie Picture," which had 
appeared on the stage the preceding year. This 
play was warmly supported by many of the "noble 
Society of the Inner Temple," to whom it is ad- 
dressed. 1 hese gentlemen were so sensible of the 
extraordinary merits of this admirable jier- 
formance, that thev gave the author leave to par- 
ticularize their names at tlie head of the dedication, 
an honour which he declined, because, as he mo- 
destly observes, and evidently with an allusion lo 
6ome of his contem])oraries. he " had rather ei.joy 
the real proofs of their friendship, than, moun- 
tebank-like, boast their numbers in a catalogue." 

In 1631 Massinger ajipears to have been unu- 
sually industrious, for he brought forward three 
pieces in lirile more than as many months. Two of 
these, " Believe as you List," and " The Unfortu- 
nate Piety," are lost; the third is " Tlie Emperor of 
the East," which was published in the following 
year, and inscribed to Lord I\lohun, who was so 
much pleaded with the jierusal of the author's 
printed works, that he commissioned his nepliew, 
Sir Aston Cockayne", to express his high opinion 
of them, and to present the writer " with a token of 
his love a;.d intnuied favour." 

" The Fatal Dowry" was printed in 1632. 1 
once supposed this to be the play which is men- 
tioned above by the name of " The I'nfortunate 
Piety," as it does not appear under its present ti;le 
iu the office-book of Sir llenry Herbert ; but I now 
believe it to have been written previously to i6'.^S. 
His coadjutor in this play was Nathaniel Field, of 
ivhom I can give the reader but little ;xcount. flis 
aame stands at the head of the principal come- 
iians u ho performed "Cynthia's Kevels," and he 
:s joined with Heminge, Condell, Burbadge, and 
others, in the preface to the folio edition of Shak- 
speare. lie was also the author of two comedies, 
"'A \Vom;in is a Weathercock," 1612, and 
" Amends for Ladies," 1618. Mr. Keed, however, 
conjectures the writer of these plays, the assistant 
of RIassiiiger in " The Fatal Dowry," to be a dis- 
tinct person from the actor above mentioned, and 
"a Nath. Field, 1\]. A., Fellow of New Coll., wh>> 
wrote some Latin verses printed in Oxon. Academitt 
Parentalia, ictid, and who, being of the same uni- 



• This !3 the only plHie in which Massingtr makes any 
mention <>{ Sir Asion.wljo \\;is not less (leliglittd with "Tlie 
Emperor of ilie Kasl" llian Ins uncle, and who, in a copy 
of verse-s whicli he pitlixiil toit,c.ills Mas.'in^er his uortliy 
friend. It is lo the prai-i- of Sir Asion Cockajiic, tliat he 
not only niainl.iintd hi> e<tt em and ailmiration of Mas.-in- 
ger duiin^r tin- pott's life, l)iit piestrvid an aileclionate rejianl 
lor liis nieirioi \', i.t" «hicii hi- \\r. tings liunish many pioois. 
He \vas,a> 1 h.ive .-■nppo.-rd .Mas-iiii;er to be, a Catholic, and 
sutfered nimli for hi-- religion. 1 .mII not lake upon iiijself 
to say ih.t this coiiiinuniiy of faith sln-n^^lhened thiir inii- 
tnal attachment, though 1 do nut think it al'ogether im- 
probable. 



versify with Massinger, might there join with him 
in the composition of the play ascribed to tli--in*.' 
It is seldom safe to differ from .fir. J{eed on sub- 
jects of this nature, vet I siill iiK-line to tliink that 
Held the actor was the person meant. There is 
no authority for supposing that Massinger wrote 
jilays at college ; and if there were ir i- ih.i likely 
thai " The Fatal I Jowrv" should be one of iheiii. iiul 
ftlr. Reed's chief reason for his ass-rtion is, ihat no 
contemporary author speaks of Meld as a writer: 
this argument, in the refutation of which I can 
claim no merit, is now completely disproved by the 
discovery of the letter to .Mr. Henslowe. Mr. ftla- 
lone, too, thinks that the person who wrote the two 
comedies htre mentioned, and assisted Ma singer, 
could not be Field the actor, sii;ce the first of them 
was printed in 1612, at which time he must have 
been a youth, havinu'"perforraed as one of the chil- 
dren of the revels in Jonson's "Silent Woman," 
i6()9t- I know not to what age these children were 
confined, but l')ark>tead, who was one of iheni, and 
wlio, from his situation in the list, was probably 
younger than Field, published, in 1611, a ])oem 
called " Iliren (Irene) the Fair Greek," coiisisdnof 
of 1 14 stanzas, which is yet earlier than the date of 
" Woman's a Weathercock." 

Mr. 1\1 alone conjectures that the affecting letter 
(p. XV.) was written between 1612 and \<''i.) : i( we 
take the latest period. Field will be then in.t far 
from his twenty-eighih year, a period suffi. ieiiily 
ailvanced for the production of any Work o1 fancy 
1 havi^ sometimes felt a pang at imaginiu'' that the 
])lay on which they were then engaged., and for 
which they solicit a trilling a'ivance in such moving 
terms, was " The Fatal Dowry," one of ilie nol lest 
compositions that ever giaced the English si-ige ! 
Even though it should not be so, it is vet impossible 
to be unaffected, when we consider that lli..se who 
actually did ])roduce it were in danger of perishing 
ill gaol lor want of a loan of five pounds ! 

Ill ihe following year, Massinger bioiiyht forward 
" The City JMadam." As this play was uri<loubledly 
disposed of to the performers, it remained in manu- 
script till the distress brought on the stage by the 
persecution of the Puiitaiis, induced them lo com- 
mit it to the press. 1 he persoii to whom we are in- 
debted foi Its aj)[)e.iraiice was Andrew Peiiii\ C'licke, 
an actor of some note. In the detlication to the 
Countess of Oxford}, he observes, with a spirited 
reference to the restrictions then laid on the iirama, 
" In that age, when uil and learning ueie not con- 
(jiiered fey iijury and vii leiice, this poem was the ob- 
ject of love and commendations:" he then adds, 
'• the encouragement I had to jirefer this (iedication 
to your powerful jirofeclioii, proceeds from tlit- uni- 
versal fame of the deceased author^, who (although 



• Old Plays, Vol. XIL, p. 350. 

+ Jl had pnbably ejcaped Mr. Malone's observation, that 
Field a,ipeais a> the principal perloimcr iii"C)n!hia's Re 
vi-ls," acted in 159y or lOUU. . He couhl ni.f llieii have well 
been less than twelve jcaisold, and, ai the time inenlioned 
by y.v. iM alone, as too e.irl> for the prodnciioii of Ids tirsl 
play, niii>t have btcn tnir.ed of one anil tweniy. 

I Vuuvlins of Oxford, A..- ] Ann, first wife of Aubrey de 
Ve.e, iwenlieih anil 1 i«t Eailof Oxfoid. She was a distant 
lelaiion of the I'einbroke family. 

^ 'I lie ilfifased aulhur,] " Tlie City Madam" was fn mted 
in 105!'. 'lliis Mitln lentK proves ihe abj-mdiiy of ilie ac- 
count '^i^e l>y Lan^biin'c, Jacob, \VhiiuO|i, a"nil llibber, 
wlio ctiiiciir ill placing his death in ll>09, and who, cer- 
l.iinly, never nerused Ins works with any aitentiuu: uor il 



INTRODUCTION. 



he competed many) wrote none amiss, and tliis may 
justly be ranked among his best." Pennycuicke 
mi^ht h:iTe gnne rurtl)er ; but this little address is 
sufficient to show in what estimation the poet was 
held bv liis " fellows." He had now been dead 
nineteen years. 

About this time too (1632), Massing^er printed 
"The M:ii(l of Honour," with a dedication to Sir 
Francis FoljamW*, and Sir Thomas Bland, which 
cannot be read without sorrow. He observes, that 
these gemlemen, who appear to have been engaged 
in an amicable suit at law, bad continued for many 
years the patrons of him and his despised studies, 
■nd he calls upon the world to take notice, as from 
himself, that he had nut to thai time siihsisled, but that 
he was supported by their frequent courtesies and 
favours. 

It is not improbable, however, that he was now 
labouring under the pressure of more than usual 
want ; as the failure of two of his plays had damped 
his spirits, and materially checked the prosecution 
»f his dramatic studies. No account of the unsuc- 
lessful pieces is come down to us ; their names do 
not occur in the Office-book of Sir H. Herbert, nor 
should we have known ihe circumstance, had not 
the author, with a modesty which sliames some of his 
contemporaries, and a deference to the judgment of 
the public, which becomes all who write for it, le- 
corded the fact in the prologue to " Ihe Guardian." 
To this, probalily, we owe the publication of " A 
New Way to Pay Old Debts," which was now first 
printed with a sensible and manly address to the 
Earl of Caernarvon, who had married Lady Sophia 
Herbert, the sister of his patron, Philip Earl of 
Pembroke and Montgomery. " I was born," he 
says, " a devoted servant to the thrice noble family 
of your mcomparable lady, and am most ambitious, 
but with a becoming distance, to be known to vour 
lordsliip." All IMassinger's patrons appear to be 
persons of worth and eminence. Philip had not, 
at this time, tarnis'hed the name of Pembroke by in- 
gratitude, and tiie Earl of Caernarvon was a man 
of unimpeachable honour and integrity. He fol- 
lowed the declining fortunes of his royal master, 
and fell at Newbury, where he commanded the ca- 
valry, after defeating that part of tiie parliamentary 
army to which he was opposed. In his last mo- 
menis, says Fuller, as he lay on the field, a noble- 
man of tlie royal party desired to know if he had 
any re(|uest to make to the king, to whom he was 
deservedly dear, comforting him with the assurance 
that it would he readily granted. His reply was 
such as became a brave and conscientious soldier : 
I will not die with a suit in my mouth, but to the 
king of kings ! 

Flattered by the success of " The Guardian," 
which was licensed on the jlst of October, \633, 
Massm^er exerted himself with unusual energy, and 
produced three plays before the expiration of the 
following year. One of them, the delightful comedy 



that of Ciietwood more rational, who afserts that he died in 
1659, since liis epil:<pli is printed anumg the poems of Sir 
Aston Cockasne, wliich wcie pi\blibhed in lfi58, and 
writttn much (.'ailier. It is, tliertforc, worse than a waste 
of lime to repeat from book to book such palpable 
errors. 

* .S'ir Francis Foljamhe, &c.) I suspect that Sir Francii 
was also a Ca'liulic. Fioin the brief account of this ancient 
family which is ^iven in Lodge's " llliistr-ilions," they ap- 
pear to have sutlered severely on account of their religion, 
to wl-icb they were gcalously attached. 



of " A Very Woman," is come down to us; of th« 
others, nothing is known but the names, which ace 
registered by the Master of the Revels. In 1635, 
it does not appear that he brought any thing forward : 
but in 1636, he wrote " The Bashful Lover," and 
printed " The Great Duke of Florence," which had 
now been many years on the stage, with a dedica- 
tion to Sir Robert Wise.man, of Thorrells Hall, in 
Essex. In this, which is merely expressive of his 
gratitude for a long continuation of kindness, he ac 
knowledges, *• and with a zealous thankfulness, that 
for many years, he had but faintly subsisted, if he 
had not often tasted of bis bounty." In this pre- 
carious state of dependance passed the life of a man 
who is cliarged with no want of industry, suspected 
of no extravagance, and whose works were, at that 
very period, the boast and delight of the stage ! 

" The Bashful Lover" is the latest play of Mas- 
singer's writing which we possess, but there were 
three others posterior to it, of which the last, " The 
Anchor^s of Pausilijipo, was acted Jan. 26, 1640, 
about six weeks before his death. Previous to this, 
he sent to the press one of his early plays, "The 
Unnatural Combat," which he inscribed to Anthony 
Sentleger (whose father, Sir Wareham, had been his 
particular admirer), being, as he says, ambitious to 
publish his many favours to the world. It is pleasant 
to find the author, at the close of his blameless life, 
avowing, as he here does, with an amiable modesty, 
that the noble and eminent persons to whom big 
former works were dedicated, did not think thcnr- 
selves disparaged by being "celebrated as the pa- 
trons of his humble studies, in the first file ot 
which," he confines " I am coujident you shall have 
no cause to blush to find your name written." 

Massinger died on the 17th of March, 1640. He 
went to bed in good health, says Langbaine, and 
was found dead in the morning in his own house on 
the Bankside. He was buried in the churcliyard of 
St. Saviour's, and the comedians paid the last sad 
duty to his name, by attending him to the grave. 

It does riot appear, from the strictest search, that 
a stone, or inscription of any kind, marked the place 
where his dust was deposited : even the memorial 
o( his mortality is given with a pathetic brevity, 
which accords but too well with the obscure and 
humble passages of his life : " March 20, 1639-40. 
buried Philip Massinger, a strangeu!" No flowers 
were flung into his grave, no elegies " soothed his 
hovering spirit," and of all the admirers of his tal- 
ents and his worth, none but Sir Aston Cockayne, 
dedicated a line to his memory. It would be an 
abuse of language to honour any compo.sition of Sir 
Aston witii the name of poetry, but the steadiness 
of his regard for Massinger may be justly jiraised. 
In that c;)llection of doggrel rhymes, which I have 
already mention^•d, (|>. xv.) there is " an epitaph oa 
Mr. John Fletcher, and Mr. Philip Massinger, who 
lie both buried in one grave in St. Mary Orery's 
church, in Southwark : 

" In the same grave was Fletcher buried, here 
Lies the stage-i)oet Philip Massinger; 
Plays they did write together, were great friends. 
And now one grnve includes them in their ends. 
To whom on earth nothing could part, beneath 
Here in their fame they lie, in spight of doa.h." 

It is surely somewhat singular that of a man of 
such eminence, nothing should be known. What I 
have presumed to gire, is merely the history of the 



INTRODUCTON. 



Buccpssive apppamncp of liis works ; and I am aware 
of 110 source from whence any additional information 
can l)e derived : no anecdotes are recordeil of liim 
bv his contemponiries, few casual mentions of liis 
name occur in the writings of tl.<e time, and he had 
not tlie good fortniie whicli attended many o( less 
eminence, to aitiact attention at 'he revival of dia- 
maiic literatiire from the deatlilike torpor of the In- 
t."i:^i;nuni*. But though we are ignuriint of every 
fi.-;jmstance respecting Massitiger, hut that he lived 
and (iie<!t, we may yet form to ourselves some idea 
of his personal character from the incidental hints 
scattered through his works. In what light he was 
regarded Tiia\' he collected from the recommendatory 
poems prefixed to liis several plays, in wliieh the 
language of his panegyrists, though warm, expresses 
an attachment apparently derived not so much from 
bis talents as his virtues; he is, as Davies has ob- 
served, their lieloved, mt(c!i-esleenied, Henr, unrtlitj, 
deserving, honoured, long kiioiin. and long loued friend, 
&CC., &c. All the writers of his life unite* in re()re- 
seiitiiig him as a man of singular modesty, gentle- 
ness, cafidour, and affability ; nor does it apjiear that 
he ever made or found an enemy. Me sj>paks, indeed, 
of op])(iiients on the stage, but the contention of 
rival candidates for popular favour must not be eon- 
founded wiili jiersonal hostility. With all this, 
however, he appears to have maintained a constant 
striigLile with adversity ; since not only tlie stage, 
from w liich, perhaps, his natural reserve j)rt-vented 
him from deriving the usual advantages, but even 
the hotinty of his particular friends, on which he 
chiefly relied, left him in a state of absolute depend- 
ance Jonson, Fletcher, Shirley, and oihers, not 
snperii r to liim in abilities, had their periods of good 
foriiiiie, their bright, as well as their stormy hours ; 
but iNIassinger seems to have enjoyed no gleam of 
sunshine; liis life was all one wintry day, and 
" shadows, clouds, and darkness," rested upon it. 

Diivies finds a servility in his dedications which 
I have nut been able to discover ; they are princi- 
pally cliaracierized by gratitude and humility, without 
a fiiigle trait of that gross and servile adulation 
which distinguishes and disgraces the addresses 
of some of his contemporaries. '1 bat lie did not 
conceal his misery, his editors appear inclined to 
reckon among his faults; he bore it, however, wilh- 
ont impatience, and we only hear of it when it is 
relieved. I'overty made him no flatterer, and, what 
i> still more rare, no tnaligner of the great; nor is 
one symiiloin of envy nianilested in any part of his 
com|iositions. 

Ills principles of patriotism appear irreprehen- 
sihle ; ilie extravagant and slavish doctrines which 
are found in the ilramas of his great contemporaries, 
make no part of his creed, in which the warmest 
loyally is skilfully combined with just and rational 
ideas of political freedom. Nor is this the only 
instance in which the rectitude of his mind is ap- 
parent; the writers of his day abound in recom- 
mendations of suicide ; he is uniform in the repre- 

• One exrepliim we shall licienfter nienlion. Evn in 
tliis the p<i. t.s ill fall- piirMicfl liiin, and he was lliiiig 
back into uljscurity, that his spoils iiiiglit be worn without 
d< l< ciiim. 

t It is sciioiii-ly to be lamented that Sir Asion Cockyane, 
iiiiilead or' uasliiii; his leisiiii: in iiieHsurinu uiit dull |ir<<se 
wincli cannot be read, had not iiniilojed a pan ot il in 
fmnisliins; some iioiiies if riie diaiiiatic p<iets, with wliuin 
lie wa^ so well acquaiiite<l, and whom he professes eo inucli 
'o admire. 



hension of it, with a single exception, to which, 
perliap>, he was led by the peculiar turn of hia 
studies*, (juilt of every kind is usually lett l'^ the 
punishment of divine justice ; even the wretclieci 
Malefort excuses himself to his son on his super- 
natural appearance, because the \aHfT wan not marked 
ont hii hemen (or his mother's avenger; and the 
young, the brave, the pious Charalois accounts his 
death fallen upon him by the will of heaven, be- 
cause " he made himself a jndge in his cun raiise."^ 

But the great, the glorious distinction of iMas- 
singer, is the uniform respect with which be treats 
religion and its ministers, in an age when it was 
found necessary to add regulation to regulation, to 
stop the growth of impiety on the stage. No priests 
are introduced by him, "to set on some (jiiantitv of 
barren spectators" to laugh at their licentious f.I- 
lies; the sacred name is not lightly invoked, nor 
daringly sported with ; nor is Scripture profaned by 
buflbon allusions lavishly put into the mouths of 
fools and women. 

To this brief and desultory delineation of his 
mind, it may be expected that something should here 
he added of his talents for dramatic composition; 
but this is happily rendered unnecessary. 'I'lie 
kindness of Dr. Feiriar has allowed me to annex to 
this introduction the elegant and ingenious '■ Kssay 
on I\lassinger," first piinted in the third volume of 
the " Alanchester Transactions ;" and 1 shall pre- 
sently have to notice, in a more particular maiiiur, 
the value of the assistance which lias been expressly 
given to me for this work. '1 hese, it I do not de- 
ceive myself, leave little or nothing to be desired on 
the peculiar qualities, the excellencies, and defects, 
of this much neglected and much injured writer. 

Mr. M. Mason has remarked the general har- 
mony of his numbers, in which, indeed, Mas.^inger 
stands unrivalled. He seems, however, inclined to 
make a partial exception in favour of Shalispeare; 
but I cannot admit of its proprit-ty. 'J'lie claims of 
this great poet on the admiratimn of mankind are 
innumerable, but rhythmical modulation is not one 
of them, nor do 1 tliink it either wise or just to bold 
him for.h as supereminent in every quality which 
constitutes genius. Beaumont is as sublime, 
Fletcher as pathetic, and Jonson as nervous : — nor 
let it be accounted poor or niggard praise, to allov? 
him only an equality with these extraordinary men 
in their peculiar excellencies, while he is admitted 
to possess many others, to which they make no »p- 
jiroacbes. Indeed, if I were asked for the dis- 
criminating quality of Shakspeare's mind, that by 
which he is raised above all competition, above al' 
prospect of rivalry, I should say it was wit. 'l\ 
wit Massinger has no pretensio'lis, though he is n>. 
without a considerable portion of humour ; in which, 
however, he is surpassed by Fletcher, whose style 
bear.-j some affinity to his own ; there is, indeed, a 
morbid softness in the poetry of the latter, which is 
not visible in the flowing and vigorous metre oi 
Wassinger, but the general manner is not unlikef 



• Sec " The Duke of Milan." The frequent violation of 
female chasiity, wliich took place on iheir riipliori of 
ihe barbaiiaiis into llaly, fjave ri>e to maiix cuiious dis- 
qni-.itions anions; the talh.is of the clinrcli, ^■efpecl^ne 
the (lei;ree ol ynilt incurred in pievenlini; il by self-mur- 
der. .Ma^siiinr-r had thesi-, prol.ably, in I i» llioimhis. 

t There is yi-t a pecidiaiiiy which it may be proper to 
notice, as it codtiibuiet in .1 slight degree to the fluency ot 



INIRODUCTION. 



With Massinger terniinafed tlip iriurn|ili of dra- 
matic poetry ; indeed, the stiioe itself survived liini 
but a sliort time. 'I lie nation was roiivulsed to 
its centre by confendinpj ("actions, and a set of 
austere and o|<iomv fan;ifics, enemies to every ele- 
gant amusement, and every social relaxation, rose 
upon the ruins of the state. Exasperateil by the 
ridicule with which they had long- been covered by 
the stao;e, tiiey persecuted the actors with unrelent- 
ing severity, atid consigned them, together with the 
writers, to hopeless obscurity and wretchedness. 
Taylor died in the extreme of (loverty, Shirley 
opened a liitle school, and Lnwin, the boast of the . 
stage, kept an alehouse at Brentford : 

Bitlneohrm Gabiis, J urnos coitdiicere Roma 
t'eniariitit ! 

Otliers, anil those the far greater number, joined the 
rov'id standard, and exerted themselves w ith more 
gallaiiirv than good foitune in the service of their 
old and indulgent master. 

We have not vet, ])erhaps, fully estimated, and 
certaiidv not yet fully recovered, what was lost in 
that unfortunate struggle. The arts were rapidly 
advaticing' to perfection under the fostering wing of 
a monaich who united in himself tas^te to feel, spirit 
to undertake, and munificence to reward. Archi- 
tecture, painting, and poetry, were by turns the ob- 
jects of his paternal care. Si)akspeare was his 
" closet companion,*" Jonson his jioet, and in con- 
junction with Inigo Jones, his favoured architect, 
produced those magnificent entertainments which, 
though modern refinement may aflect to despise 



Miissinger's style; it is, tlic resolution of liis words fand 
jHiiicip,illy ot those wliioh are derived from the Lniiii 
iliroiii;li the niediinn of tie Frem-li) into their roiiiponeiil 
sjlLililes. Virtuous, partial, nation, &c, &c , he iisiMlly 
makes d.iclyls (If ii be not pidnitic to apply terms of 
measure to ;• langiiaee aeqiiaiiiled only v»iih acci iit) passing 
over the last two syllables with a gentle but dislinci enun- 
ciation. Thii, practice, inilecd, is occasionally adouted by all 
the writers of liis lime, but in Massinger it i- tiequeiit and 
habitual. This singiiltrity may ^liijlitly euibarrass the re ider 
at first, hot a little acqnainlance will show its advantages, 
and render it not only easy but di light ml. 

* His "Clout Cmnpanitin,"] Millon, and certainly with 
no sjniploms of di-approbatiim, mentions, as a fact univer- 
sally known, the fondness ot the nnfmtnn.ile Charles for 
the plays of Shakspeare ; and it appears, tVoni those curious 
particulars collected from Sir Heniy Herbert, by Mr. Ma- 
lone, that his attachment to the drama, and his anxiety for 
its perfection, began with his reign. The plot of "rhe 
Gamester," one of the best of Shirley's pieces, was given 
to him by the kin;;; and there is an anecdutu lecoided by 
the Maste-r of the Revels, wliii:h shows that he was not inat- 
tentive to the success of Massiii!;er. 

"At Creenwich lhis'4 of June (16.38), Mr. W. Murray 
gave nue power from the king to allow of '-The King and 
the Subject," and tould niee that he would warrant it : 

" ' Monies! We'll raise mipplies what way we please, 
And toice you to subset ibe to blanks, in which 
We'll mulct you as we shall think tit. The Cassars 
In Rome were wise, acknowledging no laws 
Bui what their swords did ratils, the wives 
And daughters of the senators bowing to 
Their will, as deities,' " &c. 

"This is a pcece taken out of Philip Messenger's play 
called 'The King and the Subject,' and entered here lor 
ever to bee remembered by my son and those that cast 
their eyes on it, •.•! honour of King Charles, my master, 
whoijadinge over the piay at Ne.vmarket, set his inarke 
upon the place with his own li.inde, and in these words: — 
' This is too insoli-nt, and to bie vhonyed' 

"Note, that the pnet makes it the speech of a king, Don 
Pedro of Spayne, and spoken to his subierls." 



them, modern splendour never reached even ic 
jhouijht*. 

That the tyranny of the commonwealtli .should 
sweep all this away, was to be expected : the cir- 
cumstance not less to be wondered ;it than regretted 
is, that when the revival of monarchy affonled an 
opportunity for restoring- every thing to its piistine 
place, no advantage should be taken of it. Such, 
iiowever, was the horror created in the geneial 
mind, by the perverse antl unsocial government from 
which they had so fortunately escaped, that the 
people appear to have anxiously avoided all retro- 
spect ; and with Prynne and Vicars, to have lost 
sight of Shakspeare and " his fellows." instead, 
therefore, of taking up dramatic jioetry (for to this 
my subject confines me) where it abruptly erased in 
the labours of Massinger, they elicited, as it were, a 
manner of their own, or fetched it iroin the heavy 
monotony of their continental neighbours. The 
ease, the«legance, the simplicity, the co])iousness of 
the former perioil, were as if tliey had never lieen ; 
and jangling; and blustering declamation look place 
of nature, truth, and sense. Even criticism, which, 
in the former reign, had been making no inconsi- 
derable jiiogress under the influence and direction 
of the great maslers of Italy, was now diverted into 
a new channel, and only studied in the [luny and 
jejune canons of their unworthy followers, the 
French. 

'Ihe Restoration did little for Mass'iiger ; thia, 
however, will the less surprise us, when we find 
that he but shared the fortune of a grea'er iianie. It 
ap|iears from a list of revived Jiliiys preserved by 
Downes the jiromider, that of twenty-one, two 
onlyt were written by Shakspeare ! " I he ISond- 
man," and " 'I'he Roman Actor," were at length 
brought forward by Betterton, v\ ho probably con- 
ceived them to be favourable to his fine jiowers of 
declainalion. We are told by Downes, iLat he 
gained "great opjilause" in them: his success, 
however, did not incite him to the revival of ihe 
rest, though he might have found among the num- 
ber ample scope for the display of liis highest 
talents. I can find but two more of Rlassinger's 
plays which were acted in the peiiod iminednitely 
following tlie Restoration, " The Virgin-lMariyr," 
and "The Renegado:" I have, indeed, soine idea 
that " The Old Law" should be added to the scanty 
list; but hstring mislaid my menioranduuis, 1 can- 
not affirm it. 

'] he time, however, arrived, when lie was to be 
remembered. Nicholas Rowe, a man gifted by na- 
ture with taste and feeling, disgusted at the tumid 
vapidity of iiis own times, turned his attention to 
the poets of a former age, and, among the rest, to 



•That the exhibition of those masks was attended with a 
consideralile degree of expense cannot be deniid : and yet a 
question may be modestly started, whether a tlii ii>a .'I pounds 
mitht not have been as rationally and as credltahly laid out 
on one of them at Tibbald's, .Allhorpe, er Ludlow Castle, an 
on a basket of unripe truit ! 

But we are fallen indeed ! The festival of Itie knights of 
the Bath presented an opportunity for a mask ajipropriate 
lo Ihe subject, in which taste should have united wiih gran- 
deur. Whose talents were employed on the great oc- 
casion I cannot pretend to say, but as-iiredly the fre- 
qiienleis of Bartholomew fair were nevt-r inviu-d to so vile 
and senseless an exhibition, as was produced at Kaiielagh lot 
Ihe enieitaiiiment of the nobility and geniry of the univeii 
kingdom. 

t Tu'o only] And of these two, one was "Titus Anuro- 
Viicukl" 



INTRODUCTION. 



ilasvinser. Pleased at the discovery of a mind 
congenial to his own, he studied liim with attention, 
and enJeavoured to i'orni a style on his model. 
Suavity, e.ise, elegance, all that close application iind 
sedulous iiniiiiiioii could give, Rowe ac(|uired from 
the [leiusal of Massinger : humour, richness, vi- 
gour, and suhlimity, the gifts of nature, were not to 
be caught, and do not, indeed, appear in any of his 
inultilarious compositions. 

Kowe, however, had discrimination and judg- 
ment : he was alive to the great and striking; excel- 
lencies of the i'oet, and formed the resolution of 
presenting him to the world in a correct and uniform 
edition. It is told in tlie jjreface to " The Bond- 
man" (printed in 1719), and tiiere is no reason to 
doubt the veracity of the affirmation, that Rowe had 
revised the whole of Wassinger's worUs, with a 
view to tlieir publication: unfortunately, however, 
he was seduced from his purpose by the merits of 
" The Fatal Dowry." The |ialiietic and interesting 
Scenes of this domestic drama have such irresistible 
power over ll/e best feelings of the reader, that he 
determined to avail himself of iheir excellence, and 
frame a second Iiagedy on the same stoiy. Ilovv he 
altered and adapted the events to his own concep- 
tions is told by Mr. Cumberland, with equal ele- 
gance and taste, in the Essay wliicli follows the 
original piece*." 

I'leasi d with the success of his perfurniancef, 
Rowe conceived the ungenerous idea of appropri- 
ating the « hole o' its merits ; and, from that in- 
stant, appeals not oidy to have given up all thoughts 
of iMassiiiger, but to have avoided all mention of his 
name. In the base and servije dedication of his 
tragftiy to the Duchess of Orniond, while he founds 
his claim to her j)atronage on the interesting nature 
of tlie scenes, he sutfeis not a hint to escajie him 
that he was indebted for them to any preceding 
writer. 

It may seem strange that Rowe should flatter him- 
self witli the lio])e of evading detection : that hope, 
however, was not so extravagant as it may appear at 
preseiit. Few of our old dramas were then on sale : 
Those of Sliakspeare, Jonson, and I'letcher, indeed. 



• A fiw words niity yet beliazaided on this subject. Ttie 
hkhhI i.f" I he K.it.il Dowry" is iiitinitely supeiinr lo that of 
" Tlie l-'.iii- Penitent," h liJcli iiidti d, is Utile lielter tliaii a speci- 
ous «|nilogs l.T jidiiliery , Rowe lias lavislieil tlie most fednciiig 
colours oi Ins eloquence on Lulliaiio, and acted, IlirouyliOiit 
tlie piece, as it he studied to frame an excuse fur Calista : 
whereas Alassiajjcr has placed ihe crime of Heanmelle 
in Mil odii'Hs and proper light. Keauinelle can h.ne no 
followers in liei guilt: — no frail one can iiiye that she was 
misled by her example : for Novall lias nolliini; but personal 
charms, ani even in these he is surpassed by Ch raloi-. I''or the 
unhappy liiisbtnil of Calista, Howe evinces no consideration, 
where i\lassiiii;er lias reiideied Cliaralois llie most iuter- 
eslinn char.uter that was evei produced on the sta^e. 

Biauiiielli, who tails a sacrifice, in some measure, to the 
artiiices oi lier maid, the proiligate atentof jonni; Novall, 
is much siiperiiu to Calista. Indeid. the impression which 
she made on Rowe was so stioiii;, Ihat he named lii" tragedy 
iffter her, and noi aflir the lieniiiie of his own piece: lieau 
nielle is truly the Fair I'liiiteiit, «heie.is Cali>t.i is neither 
more nor less ili in a haui;lii> and abandoned strumpet. 

+ 7'Af? t!Jtrr/'}iS oj his performnnre^] 'I'iti* wa^ somewhat 
prohlemaiical at hist. Kor tlioutib " 1 he F.iir I'lniienl" be 
now a general (axoiiilie willi tin low n, it expiiiiiice con- 
siderable opp< sition < n its appe.oance, owins:. as Dow lies 
inrorms us, "to the Haliiess ot the loiiilh and liltli acls." 
The poverty of Rowe's genius is prim ipally apparent in the 
last; ot which the plot and (he eseeutioii are equally 
cootenipablc. 



had been collected ; dejiredations on them, thtre- 
fore, though frequently made, were attended will, 
some degree of hazard ; but the works of AJassin- 
ger, few of which had reached a second edition, lay 
scattered in single plays, and might be appropriated 
without fear. What printed cojiies or manuscripts 
were extant, were chiefly lo be found in private li- 
braries, not easily accessible, nor often brought to 
sale; and it is not, perhaps, too mucii to say that 
more old plays may now lie found in the hands of a 
single bookseller, than, in the days of Uowe, were 
supposed to be in existence. 

" I he Fair Penitent " was produced in 1703, and 
the Author, having abandoned his first design, un- 
dertook to prejiare for the press the works of a poet 
more worth), it must be confessed, of his care, but 
not in e(|ual waot of his assistance; and, in 17(i9, 
gave the public the first octavo edition of Slaikspiare. 

U'hat might have been the present rank of Massm- 
ger, it Rowe had completed his purpose, it would be 
presumptuous to determine : it may, however, be 
conjectured that, reprinted with accuracy, corrected 
with judgment, and illustiated with ingenuity, he 
would, at least, have been more generally known*, 
and suffered to occujiy a station of greater respecta- 
bility than he has hitherto been jierinitted to assume. 

IMassinger, thus plundered and abandoned hy 
Rowe, was, after a considerable lapse of time, ttiken 
up by Thomas Coxeter, of whom 1 know notbing 
more than is delivered by IVlr. Egerton lirydges, 
in liis useful and ingenious additions to the " Thea- 



• ^^ ore generally known,] It does not appear from John- 
son's observations on "Til. F.iir I'euileiit," llial lie had any 
knowledge of Massiiiger ; Steevens, I have some re;ison to 
think, took him up late in life; and Mr Malone observes to 
nil-, Ihat lie only consulted liiiii lor verbal ilUistr.itions of .Shak- 
spearc. This is merely a subject for regret; but »e may be 
allo«ed to complain a little of llio.se who discuss his merits 
wiiiiout examining his works, anil Irai'.uce his cliaiacter oa 
their own iniscoiicepti<ms. Capdl, whose dull fidelity loiniB 
the sole claim on our kindness, becomes both inaci male and 
unjust the instant he speaks of iMas-iii^er; he accuses him of 
being one of the props ot Jonsoii's throne, in oppo>iiioii to the 
pretensions of Sliakspeari+ ! The reverse ot this is the truth: 
lie was the admirer and imitator of Sliakspeare, and it is scarce- 
ly possible to look into one of his prologues, w iihout discover- 
ing s(nne allusion, more or less ciincealed, to the overvvlnlin- 
ing pride and arrogance of Jonson. This disiiiclinaiion to 
the l.itter was no secret to bis conlemporariesi while his par- 
tiality lo the former was .so notorious, that in a mock 
rom.ince, entitled "Wit and Fancy in a Maze, or Don 
Zara del Fogo," limo, 16;<i (the knowledge of which wa« 
obligingly communicated to me by the Rev VV. l.dd;, 
where an uproar amongst the English poels is ilesciibeil, 
Alassiiiger is expressly introduced as "one of the life 
guards to Sliakspeare." So much for ihe sneer of-Capell I — 
but iMassingei's ill fate still pursues him. In a lite lis.saj on 
Ihe stage, written with considerable ingenuity, the author, in 
giving a chronological history of dramatic writers iiom 
Sackville downwards, overlooks Massinger till he arrives at 
our own limes. He then recollects that lie was one of Ihe 
fathers of tlie drama; and adds, that '■ his style was 7(m(/A, 
manly, and vigorous, that he pressed upon his subject with 
a severe but masterly hand, that his aiit was cau.?.'!*:," l^;c. If 
this gentleman had ever looked into the poet he thus charac- 
terises, he must have instantly recognized his error. Mas- 
singer has no wit, and his liuni uir, in which he abounds, is 
of a light and fro ic iialure; he presses not on his subj' ct with 
severity, but with fulness oi knowledge; and his st>le is so 
far from roughness, ihat i*s i liaraiUristic excellence is a 
sweetness beyond example. " Whoever, ' sajs Johnson, 
"wishes to atlain an English stjle fainili.ir but not coarse, 
and elegant but not o-tentations, must gi\e his days and 
ni.lits lo the volumes of Addisiui." Win CM-r would add to 
tliese the ipialities of simplicity, purity, swe.imss, and 
strength, must devote his hours to Ihe sluily of Massinger. 

t See his " Introduction to Shakspeare's I'lays," Vol. I. p. 14i 



XIV 



INTRODUCTION. 



rum Poetnriini*." " He was born of nil ancient 
and res[iHC!able famiiv, ar Leclilade, in Ciloucesier- 
8hire, in 16159. and eiiiica'ed at Trinity (^'ollesre, 
Oxford where he wore a civilian's gown, and about 
1710, ab ndoning the civil law, and every other 
profession, came to London Here contiimin>; 
without anv settled purpose, he became acquiciii'ed 
with booksellers and autliors, and amassed materials 
for a biography of our old poets. He had a curious 
colleclion of old plays, and was the first who ftj^med 
the scheme adopted by Dodsley, of publishing a 
selection of them," &c. 

Wanon tuo calls Coxeter a faithful and industrious 
amasser of our old Eiigli.sh literature, a'.d this praise, 
whatever be its worth, is all that can be lairlvs-aid to 
belong to himf : as an editor he is miserably defi- 
cient ; though it appeals that he was not without 
assistance wliich, in o'her hands, might have been 
turned to some accnunt. " When 1 left London," 
says the accurate and ingenious Oldys, " iii ihe vear 
17V4, to reside in Yorkshire, 1 lell in the care of the 
Rev, Mr. burridge's family, with whom 1 had 
several years lodged, amongst many other books, 
a copy of this Langbaine, in whicii I had written 
several notes and references to further the know- 
ledge of the>e poets. When I returiietl to London 
in 1730, I understood mv books had been dispersed ; 
and afterwards becoming ac(]uainted with iMr. 
Coxeter, 1 found that he had bought my Langbaine 
of a bo<)k^eller, as he was a grer.t collector of plays 
and poetical books. This must have bet^n of service 
to him, and he has kejit it so carefully from my sight 
that I never could have the opportunity of traiis- 
01 thing into this I am now writing, the notes I had 
collected in that. Whether I had entered any 
remarks upon Massin^er, I remember not ; but he 
Lad coiijinunica ions from me concerning him, when 
he was undertaking to give us a new edition of his 
plays, which is not published yet. lie (Mr. Cox- 
eter; died on the lOih (or 19..h, 1 cannot lell which) 
of April, being I'^asler Sunday, 1747, of a fever 
which grew from a cold lie caujjht at an auction of 
books over Exeter (. hinge, or by sitting up late at 
the tavern afterward>J." 

Un the death of Coxeter, his collections for the 
piirjiosed edition of iNlassinger fell into the hands of 
a bookseller, of the name of Dell, who gave them to 
tie world in 1769. From the puhlisher's ]irelace it 
apjiears that Coxeter did not live to complete his 
design. "The late in-^eiiious iNIr. Cnxeter," 
he says, " had corrected and collated all (he 
various' editions^ ;" and, if I may judge from 
Lis <0j)ies, he hud spared no diligence and care to 
make ihem as correct as possible. Sevtral inge- 
nious observations and notes he had likewise pie- 



* I take the olTererl opportunity to express my thanks to 
this );• niU'iiiiiii for tlie ubllgin>; manner in which he Iraiis- 
miiled to me Ihe iiianiiscripl notts of Oldys and ollieis, 
copied into his edition of Lan<;bdine, formerly in llie posses- 
sion of .Mr. Steevens 

tJoiiii-on told Boswell tliat "a Mr. Coxeter, whom he 
knew, ha<l collected abi.nl live hnndred voliinxs of poets 
whose works were inoM known; but that, upon his death, 
Toin O.sboiiic bought them, and Ihcy were dispersed, which 
he lhi>ut;ht a pily ; as it was curious lo see any 
»<ii(s loiiiplele, and in every volume of poems sonietliins; 
good iiiiulii be ftiund." Boswell's " Liie," &c.. vol. U., 
p. 402. 

) Manuscript notes uii Lani-baine, in (he Briiiih 
Museum. 

I '1 his is also asserted in (he title-page — but i( is not i' . 



pared for his intended edition, which are all inserted 
in the present. Had he lived to have comiileted his 
design, I dare say he would have added many more, 
and that his work would have met with a very fa- 
vourable reception from every person of true taste 
and genius." 

As Dell professes to Lave followed Coxefer's 
papers, and given all his notes, we may (orm no 
inadequate idea of what the edition would have 
been. Though educated at the University, Cox- 
eter exhibits no proof's of literature. 'lo critical 
sagacity he has not the smallest pretensions; his 
conjectures are void alike of ingenuity and proba- 
bdiiy, and his historical references at once puerile 
and incorrect. Even liis parallel passages (the 
easiest part of an editor's labour) are more calcu- 
lated to iToduce a smile at the collector's expense, 
than to illustrate his author ; while every pa_i;e of 
his work hears the sironnest impressinii ot imbe- 
cility. The praise of fidelity may be allowed him; 
but in doing this the unfortunate Dell must be 
chargid (how justly I know not) with the iiinu- 
mi-rahle errors which over-run and deform the 
edition. I need not inform those who are con vers, 
ant with old copies, that the printers were less at- 
tentive to the measure of the original, than to tilling 
U|> the line, and saving their paper ; this Coxeier 
attempted to remedy ; bis success, however, w as 
but [)artial; his vigilance relaxed, or his tar failed 
him, and hundreds, perhajis thousands, of verses 
are given in the cacojih .nous and unmetrical sia'e in 
which they appear in the early editions. A few 
paljiable blunders are removed ; others, not less 
remarkable, are continued, and where a word is 
altered, under the idea of improving the sense, it is 
almost invariably for the worse. Upon the w hole, 
Massinger appeared to less advantage than in the 
old copies. 

Two years afterwards (1761), a second edition* 
of this woik was published by Mr. Thoinas Davies, 
accompanied by an " I ssay on the Oiil English 
Dramatic Writer," furnished by Mr. Colman, and 
addressed to David (jarrick, Esq., to whom Uell's 
edition was also inscribed. 

It may tend to mortify those, who, after bestow- 
ing unwearied pains on a work, look for some 
trilling ret urn of jiraise, to find the approbation, which 
should be justly reserved for themselves, thought- 
lessly lavished on the most worihless productions. 
Of this publication, the most ignorant and incoriect 
(if we except that of Mr. M. ftlason, to %vhich we 
shall speedily arrive) that ever issued froai the 
press. Bishop Percy thus speaks : " iMr. Coxeter's 
VKKV connrcT kdition ot Massinger's I'lays 
has lately been published in 4 vols. 8vo, by Air. 
']'. Davies (which I'. Davies was many years an 
actor on Drury-lane stage, and L believe still con- 
tinues so, notwithstanding his shop). To this 
edition is prefixed a superficial letter to Mr. (jar- 
rick, written by Mr. Colman, but giving not the 
hast account ot IMassinger, or of the old ediiiops 
from wh< nee this was composed, 'lis great pity 
Mr. Coxeter did not live to finish it himself." It is 



* A second rdition] So, at least, it insinuaUs: but Mr. 
W.ldioii, of Uniry L:ine (a iiiort friendly aiul ini^enioui 
man, t'j whose snittli but curious library 1 am iniirli iiiileiiied;, 
who is better acquainted with Ihe ad"oiln<fSS of booksellers 
tiiaii 1 pretend lo be, informs iiie (hat i( is only Dell's wilh 
a new title-page. 



INTHODUCnON'. 



manifest that his lordship never compared a single 
page of this " correct edition" with the old copies : 
and I mention the circumstance to point out to 
writers of eminence ihe folly, as well as the danger, 
of deciding at random on any subject which they 
have not previously considered. 

It will readily be supposed that a publication 
like this was not much calculated to extend the 
celebrity or raise the reputation of the poet ; it 
found, however, a certain quantity of readers, and 
was now growing scarce, when it fell by accident into 
the hands of John Monk Mason, Esq. 

In 1777 he was favoured by a friend, as he tells 
the story, with a copy of Massinger ; he received 
from it a high degree of pleasure, and having con- 
tracted a habit of rectifying, in the margin, the mis- 
takes of such books as he read, he proceeded in 
this manner with those before him'; his emenda- 
tions were accidentally discovered by two of his 
acquaintance, who expressed their approbation of 
them in very flattering terms, and requested the 
author to give them to the public*. 

Mr. M. Mason was unfortunate in his friends : 
they should have considered (a matter which had 
completely escaped him) that the great duty 
of an editor is fidelity : that the ignorance of 
Coxeter in admitting so many gross faults could 
give no reasonable mind the sligblest plea for rely- 
ing on his gnneial accuracy, and that however high 
they might rate their fiiend's sagacity, it was not 
morally certain that when he displaced his prede- 
cessor's words to make room for his own, he fell 
upon the gei'uine text. J^dtlung of this, however, 
occurred to them, and Air. M. Mason was prevailed 
upon, in an evil hour, to send his corrected Coxeter 
to the press. 

In a ijreface which accords hue too well with 
the rest of the work, he observes, that he had 
" never heard of Massinger till about two years 
before he reprinted hiint.'' It must be confessed 
that he lost no tune in boasting of his accpiaiutance 
— it appears, liowever, to have been but su])erficial. 
In the second (lage he asserts that the whole of 
Massinyer's plays were jiublished while the author 
was living ! i iiis is a specimen of ilie care ivith 
which he usually proceeds : the life of the author, 
prefixdd to his own edition, tells that he died in 
1640, ana in the list which immediately follows it, 
no less than four plays are given in succession, 
which were not published till near twenty years 
after that period ! 

The oscitancy of Mr. I\I. Alason is so great, that 
it is impossible to say whether he supposed there 
was any older edition than that befure him. fie 
talks indeed of Alassiiiger, but he always means 
Coxeter ; and it is beyond any common powers of 
face to hear him discoun-e of the verbal and grain- 
matii al iiiaccuiacies of an author whose woiks he 
probably never saw, without a smile of pity or 
conlemjit. 



• Prtf^fir to M. MHSonN edition, p. ii. 

*y> I If i» itrange (In- a'dils; lli.it a writer of siicli evi lent 
excellciH-i' should In- so little known. Preface, p I. A> some 
allevi.inoii of Mr. M. Ma-ouN aniazi'iiieni, 1 will till liiin 
a slioit st> ry : "Tradition sa.\>, lliat on a crri.iiii liM.e, a 
man, who hid ctasion u> iisc very eailj.was nut by 
allot! tr (lerson, vvl.oe % prosed Iris a>loji shim in al liio get tin;; 
lip also cinstasunable .m lion:, tin- man answiied, _M(, nias- 
trr woicKi- moii!;ii, as yon liinv done the same thiiiy, what 
reason liavejoii to be surprised f" 



He says, " I have admitted into the text all mj 
own amendwenlSy in order that those who may wish 
to give free scope to their fancy and their feelings, 
and without turning aside to verbal criticism, may 
read these plays in that which appears to me the 
most perfect state;" (what intolerable conceit!) 
" but for the satisfaction of more critical readers, I 
have directed that the words rejected by me should 
be inserted in the margin*." This is not the case ; 
and 1 cannot account, on any common principles of 
prudence, for the gratuitous temerity with w hich so 
strange an assertion is advanced: not one in twenty 
is noticed, and the reader is misled on almost every 
occasion. 

I do not wish to examine the preface furtlier ; and 
shall therefore conclude with observing, that Mr. 
1^1. Mason'sedition is infinitely worse than Coxeter's 
It rectifies a few mistakes, and suggests a few im- 
provements; but, on the other hand, it ah unds in 
errors and omissions, not only beyond that, but per- 
haps beyond any other work that ever ajipeared in 
print. Nor is this all: the ignoiant lidelity of 
Coxeter has certainly given us many absurd readings 
of the old printers or transcribers ; this, however^ 
is far more tolerable than the mischievous inyenuitj* 
of Mr. M. Mason : the words he has sileittltj intro- 
duced bear a specious a])pearance of truth, and are 
therefore calculated to elude the vigilance of many 
readers, whom the text of Coxe er would have 
startled, and compelled to seek the genuine sense 
elsewhere. To sum up the account between the 
two editions, both bear the marks of ignorance, 
inexjierience, and inattention ; in both the laults are 
incredibly numerous ; but wheie Coxeter drops 
words, Mr. M. fllason drops lines ; and wheie the 
former omits lines, the latter leaves out whole 
speeches ! 

After what I have just said, the reader, perhaps, 
will feel an inclination to smile at the concluding 
sentence of Mr. M. ftlason's preface: " 1 h.atieb 

MVSEl.F, THAT THIS EDITION OF MaSSINGIK WILL BE 
FOUND MORE COURfCT (AND COHlttClNlSS IS I UK ONLY 
MERIT IT PRETENDS TO) THAN THE UESr OF THOSE 
WHICH HAVE AS YET BEEN I'l'BLISHED OF ANV OIHEK 
ANCIl-NT DRAMATIC WRHEH.t" 

'1 he genuine merits of the Poet, however, were 
Strong enough to overcome these wretclnd reinoras. 
'J'he impression was become scarce, and though 
never worth the paper on which it was pruned, sold, 
at an extravagant |jrice. when a new edition was 
proposed to me by Mr. Evans of Pall-Mail. Mas- 
singer was a favourite ; and 1 had frecjuetitly la- 
mented, with many others, that he had l.illen into 
such hands.' I saw, without the assistance of the 
old copies, that his metre was disregarded, that his 
sense was disjointed and broken, that his dialogue 
was imperfect, and that he was encunib, red with 
explanatory trash which would di^giate :lie pages 
of a sixpenny magazine ; and in the hope of remt dy- 
ing these, and enabling the Author to take his jilace 
on the same shelf, I will not say with Sliaksjieare, 
but with Jonson, Beaumont, and his associate I'let- 
cher, I readily undertook the labour. 

My first care was to look round for the old 
editions. 'I'o c(dlect these is not at all nines jiossi- 
ble. and in everv case, is a work of tionble ami ex- 
pense : b^it the kindness of imlividuals supplied me 
witli all that I wanted. Octuvius (jilchnst, a 



• Preface, p. ix. 



't Preface, p. xi. 



INTRODUCTION. 



gentleman ot Stamford*, no sooner Ijeard of my de- 
sign, than he oblij>in2ly sent ine all tl)e copies vvliich 
he possf-sspd ; the Hev. P. liayles of Colcljester 
(oiilv known to me bv this act of kindness) pre- 
sented me with a small but choice selection ; and 
Mr. Malone, with a liberality which I shall ever 
remember with n-ratiiude and deliglit, furnished me, 
unsolicited, with his invalnable Cdllectionf, amoii<; 
which I found all ihe first editions}: : these, with 
such as I couhl procure in the course ufa few months 
from the booksellers, in addirion to the copies in the 
Museum, and in the rich collection of his iMajfstv, 
which 1 consulted from time to time, form ti.e basis 
of .the presfiU Work. 

With th(->e aids 1 sat down to the business of colla- 
tion : it was now that 1 discoveieil, with no It ss 
surprise than indignation, those alterations and omis- 



• I m^^l not omit tliat iMr. Oilcluist (wliuse n;iinc will 
occur moi'o ilian oikc in the I'lisaiii;; pas;es), liii;tlln'r wlili 
his sopics of ^lrtS^ili^.H•r, tr.ciisiniltcd a iiiiiribtr ol ii.-i ml auil 
judicious obseivati'>iis on llit I'oti, dirivetl tVoiii his exten- 
sive arqiiaintaii.e Willi our ol.l lusionaiis. 

t I''or tins, 1 owe Mr. M.iloiie my peLMiliar tlianks : but 
the adioiri rs of Massiiiijer iinisl join «iili me in expressiiis; 
their giaiilnde to liim lor an oliii'^atiim of a iiioie public 
kind; lor the comiiiiinication of ihai beaiitiliil trai^iin lit, 
which now appears in piiiil for the tlrst time, " 'llie I'arlia- 
mentof Lo\t." From " I'lic Hi-loij of ihe Kiii;lisli Si.iye," 
prclived to Mr. Maloiie's edlli(in ot' Sh.ikspi aie, I liaiiud 
that"Fonr act* of an iin|,nhli>h<'il (Iram.i, liy Massin-ti, 
wen- still extant in iiianiijCi ipt." As 1 aiixioiislj wisliid to 
rcndii ihi- eililicni a» peifiiM as possible. 1 wrote lo Mr. 
M.ilo;,e, wi h wlioin 1 jiml not tin- plrasiirc ot being per- 
tnn.illv acqiiaiiiltd, to know where it iiii<:ht he loiind ; in 
rel'ini, Ik- inionrieil me that the manuscript was in his pos- 
sessi'.ii : itssl.iie.he .itlded, was such, that he ilutihli-it whether 
mu< h .olv.iilaLe i oiilil be <leiive(l lioin it, but that I w.is 
eniirel) wdronie to m.ike the expeiinienl. Of this peimis 
sioii, which 1 accepted with slii;;iil.ir plea-iiirc, 1 iiistaiilly 
availed mysell, ami leci-ivfd the m.innscripl. It w.is, 
indeeil, in a imloin condition: several leave.- were torn from 
the he'^imung, and the lop ami botlom of every pai;e wastid 
by damps, lo wliii h it hail formerly been expo.srd. On ex- 
xminanon, however, 1 had the salisfai linn to find, that a 
coiisideralile part of the first acl.wh.ch w.is oiippostii to be 
lost, yet exiled, and that a i-ertain degiee of attmlii.n, 
which I W.IS not iinwillinj; to bestow on it, mo^ht recover 
near!} the \\hM!e of the remainder. How I succeeded, may 
be seen in the present volume; where the reider will tind 
such an .iccoitiit, as was consistent v\illi Ihe brevity of my 
plan, of the sin^iil.ir in«liliilion on which the fible is loiinded. 
Perhaps the si|i)ject meiits no I'm ther coiisidei atitiii : 1 W(add, 
howe\er, just obsirve, llial, since iln- arlicle was piiiilid, I 
have been Inriiished by my fii.iid, the Itev. H, Nares, with 
a ciiriiiiis old volume, called " Aie>la Amoriim, ir Arieis 
d'Am- iir," writti n in French hj Martial d'Aiiveriiie, u h .. 
died ill I.MIS. It is not possible lo imagine any ll-iiii; 
mule frivolous than the causes, or r.ilhei- appeals, v\liich aie 
supposed lo be hoaid in this Court of l.ove. V\ hal is, how- 
evi r somewhat extraordiiiaiy, i-, that these miserable trllles 
are commi-nii-,1 npim by 13i-noit le Court, a ci lehrated jmis 
consult of ih se times, with a degree of serioii.-mss whhh 
would not disgrace the most impoitanl i|iiestions. Eveiy 
Greek and Roman writer, iheii known, is (|iioUd with pro- 
fusion, to prove some trite position dropt at randicm : o.-ca- 
sion is also taken lo descant on many subtle points of l.iu, 
which might not be abogether, periiaps, without ilieir in- 
terest. I have nothing further to say of this el.iborate pieie 
of foolery, whi. h I read with eipial wearisomeiiess and dis- 
gust, but which si rvis,- pi rliaps, to show that these I'ai.lia 
ments of l.ove, though confesseilly i 'aginary, occupied 
nnich of the public attention, thin ihat it had piobably f.illen 
into Massingtr's hands, as the scene between Bellis.mt ami 
Cl.iriniloie (p.i-je l.'jO) seems to be lounded on the lirst 
appeal \vhich is lu-ard in the "Arrets d'Ainoiir." 

J 1 have no inleiilion of entfriiig into the dispute respecting 
the conparative meiits of the first and recoiid lolios of 
Shakspeare. Of assinger, however. I may be allow id to 
•ay. that I constantly found the larlie.st i-ditious the most 
correct. A palpable eiror might be. and, iiidi-ed, sometimes 
was removed in the siibsiqneiil ones, but the spiiii, ami 
what I would call the laciiiess, of the aulhor only appealed 
complete in the oiiginal copies. 



.sions of which I have already spolfen ; and which J 
made it mv first care to reform ami sujiply. At th« 
oiiispt, fitidi.ng it difficult to conceive that the varia- 
fions in Coxeter and Wr. .M. Mason were the effect 
of ignorance or caprice. I iiiiagined that an authority 
for them znigbt be somewhere found, and therefore 
collated not only every edition, but even several 
ci>i ies of the same edition* ; what began in necessity 
n-as continued by choice, and every ))!ay has under* 
gone, iit least, five close exainiiialions with the ori 
giiial text. On this strictness of revi.-ion rests the 
great distinction of this edition from the preceding 
ones, from which it will be found to vary in an in- 
finite number of places : indeed, accuracy, as Mr. 
iM. Ma-ioii says, is all the merit to wiiicli it pretends ; 
and though 1 not ])rovoke, yet I see no reason to 
(lejirecate the consetpieni esof the severest scrutiny. 
There is yet another distinction. The old copies 
rately specify the place of action : such, indeed, was 
the ]ioverty of the stage, that it admitted of little 
varietv. A plain curtain hung up in a corner, se- 
])araie<l distant regions ; and if a board were ad- 
vancrd with i\lilan and Horeiice wiitteii upon it, 
tliM delusion was compleie. "'A table with ])en and 
ink thrust in," signified that the stage was a counting- 
house; if these were wiilidrawn, and two stools 
]iiit in their places, it was then a tavern. Instances 
uf this may be found in the margin of all our old 
plavs, which seem to be cojiied from the protn|>ter3' 
books ; and IMr. iM alone might have produced from 
his IVJassinger alone, more than i nough to satisfy 
ihe veriest sceptic, that the notion t f scenery, as we 
now understand it, was utterly unknown to the 
stage. Indeed, he had so mucli the advantage of 
the argument without these aids, ihat 1 have always 
wondend how Steevens could so long support, and 
so sirenuouslv contend for, his most hopeless cause. 
l?nt he was a wit and a schohir ; ami there is some 
]iride in showing how dixterouslv a clumsy wea- 
pon may be wielded by a practised swoidsman. With 
all this, however, I liave ventured on an arrange- 
ment of the scenery. Coxeter and IMr. IM. ftJason 
aileinpted it in two or three plays, and their ill 
success ill a niaiter of no extraordinary difficulty, 
proves how much they niistotdc their liilenis, when 
tliey commenced the trade if editorship, with little 
more than the negative qualities of lieeulessnesr. and 
inex]ierience.t 

* In some of these plays I discovered tliat,an error had 
bi-i n (h-ti cled after a part of the impression was woiked otf, 
ami lon-i cpieiilly correcteil, or what was more lieciueuti)' 
the case, exch.ingid lor another' 

t J/iiiz/i siiui'>;t and hwa i^erirrtce-) Tho.se who recollect the 
boast of Mr. iM. v.ason, will be soniewhal surprised, per- 
li.ifs, iven after all which liny have hi aril, at learning that, 
in so simple a matter as maikiiig the nits, this gi ntienian 
bliiiideisal every step. If i'ope m w vm re alive, he need 
II t apply to hi,, lihuk hill I pl.iys lor such niieties as exit 
omiii's. niter tInteOliiek uilche^si IksZ &c. .Mr. M. Mason's 
edition, which he "tlatliis himself will be found more cor- 
nel than the be.-t of tllo^e v\hnh li.ive been yet published 
of any oihei ancient dram tic v\riier," would furnish ahund- 
am-e of them. His lopy oi 'llieF.ital Dinv ry ,' iiovv lies 
hi-toie me, and, in 'he eoinpas- ( f a few pages, 1 observe, 
Ejif I'ff.i-i-rs vj.th Niivull (I'Jli). Eu^t C/iarii/uis, Creciitora, 
imil < Jfiii- sCim), Exit ({(miimt and iServunt {■i\r,). Exit 
]\iirull si'iiid' and /'oiilalier lUCS), H-c. All rail, kicms in 
'•'ihi- I'M peioi of the Fast ( Jl 1), &i7 Gnilleriie>i{-tl-\),AiiA 
/'xit'l'ilwrin und Niiphuiio (•ii:>),\\\ "iheUukeof Milan: 
thi-si- 1,1st bliiiHleis aie volui.t.ii J on the part ol the editor, 
I'oxitii, whom he Usually follows, reads Ex. (or Excmt : 
the liliii.g up, ihiieioie, is solely iliie lo his own in^'iniiity. 
.Similar in.-taiices might be pri-diiced irom every play. 1 would 

J See his Pieiace to Shakspeaie. 



INTRODUCTION. 



I come now to the notes. Tliose wlio are accustomed 
to tlie crowded paues of our modern editors, ivill 
prob-.d)l\- be somewhat htartled at tlie comparative 
nnkedmss. It" iliis be an erior it is a voluntary one. 
1 never could conceive why tlie reailers of cur old 
dram;.itsts should be suspected of labourini^ under 
agreatei debtee of ignorance than those of any oilier 
class of ^^lllel■s; yet, from the trire and ib' .gD fi- 
cant materials amassed for their information, ii is 
evident that, a persuasion of lliis nature is uncom- 
monlv prevalent. Customs which are universal, and 
expiessions ''familiar as household word.s" in 
every mouth, are illustrated, that is to say, over- 
laid, by an immensity of parallel passages, wiih 
just as mucli wisdom and reach of tiiou^ht as would 
be eviiice<l hv him who, to e.xplain any simple word 
in tlii- line, should empty ujioii the reader all the 
examples to be tound under it in Johnson's Dic- 
tionary ! 

'J'his cheap and miserable display of minute 
erudititni tjrew up, in great measure, with Warton : 
— peace to his manes! the cause of sound litera- 
ture has hi'iii fearfully avent;ed u])on his heaii : ai:d, 
the kiiiulif-erraiit who, with his attendant Howies, 
the duliest if all mortal squires, sallied forth in quest 
of the original pro.]>rietor of every common word in 
Milton, h;is had his copulatives and disjunctives, 
his hills and his ands, sedulously ferretted out from 
all the scliool-boolcs in the kingdom. As a prose 
wiitei', he will long continue to instruct and delii^ht ; 
but as a poet he is buried — lost. He is not of the 
'iitatis, nor iloes he possess sufficient vigour to 
shake oft" t le weight of incumbent mountains. 

However this may be, I have proceeded on a dif- 
ferent [dan. Passages that only e.sercise the me- 
mory, bv suggesting similar tlujughls and expres- 
sions ii! other writers, are, if somewhat obvious, 
generally left to the reader's own discovery. Un- 
common and obsolete words are briefly exjilained, 



not infer frum this, that Mr. M. Mason is unacquainted wllli 
the iiicauinu nl mi common a word ; bill jl «o rilicve liini 
from till' (li irije of iijnorancf, \^llnt becomes ot'hisaccarac) ! 
Indeeil, it i.< liifliciilt to say on what (ircclse exertion of this 
faculty his cl.iinis to favour were loiindcd. Sometimes cha- 
ructers coiiu- iii tliat never go out, and (fo oiil that never 
conic ill ; at other times they speak before they enter, or 
after tiny have lelt the stajiC, nay, "to make it llie more 
gracioii,-," allei they are asleep or dead ! Here one mode 
of speilin.^ i^ adopted, there anotlier; here Coxeter ii ser- 
vilely fiiliowed, thfre eapiiiioiisly deserieil; here the scenes 
are nnnduied, there coiitiniu<i wiihout distinction; here 
asides are multiplied without necessity, there snppies5e<l 
with iiiaiiif. si injury to the sense : while tlie paiie is every 
wliere < iirniiiheicd wiih niari;inal directions, which heiiii; 
intendtd sol.ly lor the property-man, v*- ho, as has lui n already 
mentioned, hid hut few properties at his disposal, can now 
only be rri;aided as designed to excite a smile at the ex- 
pense <ir ihf author. Nor is this all: the alisiird scenery in- 
troduced liy Coxeter is continued, in de!-pii;ht of common 
«ensc : the lists of dramatis persona" are imperfectly j;i\eii 
in every instance; and even ihat of "The Fatal Dowry," 
which li.is no description of the rhaiacterp, i^!elt by Mr.'M. 
Mason a> he found it, though nothing can lie more destruc- 
tive of that uniformity which the reader is lid to expect 
from the hold pretensions of his preface. I liope it is m ed- 
Icss to .idd. that these irreutiliuilies will not be found in the 
present volume. 



and, wbere the phraseologv was doubtful or ob- 
scure, it is illustrated and confirmed b\' quofationB 
from conteinjiorary authors. In this part of the 
work no abuse has been attempted of the reader's 
patience: the most positive that could be. found, 
are given, and a S(ru])iilous alleniion is every 
where paid to brevity ; as it Las been always mv 
j'«;rs' ision, 

" That where one's proofs are a|)tly chosen, 
Four are as valid as four dozen. " 

I do not know whether it may be proper to add 
here, that the freedoms of the author (of which, as 
none can be more sensible than myself, so none can 
mine lament tliem) hive obfnii.ed life o my soli- 
citude: those, therefore, who examine the notes 
with a prurient eye, will find no gratification in 
their licentiousness. I have called in no Amner 
to drivel out grauioiis obscenities in uncouth \;\n- 
guage* ; no Collins ( whose name should be devoted 
to lasting- infaniv) to ransack the annals of a brothel 
for secret " better hidt ;" where 1 " isbe.i not lodetain 
the reader, I have lieen silent, and instead of aspiring 
to the fame of a licentious commentator, sought 
only for the quiet a])proba'ion with which the 
father or the husband may reward the faithful 
editor. 

liut whatever may be thouoht of my own notes, 
the critrcal iib-iervations that follow each play, and, 
above all, the eli.(|Ueiit and masterly deline.ition of 
Massinger's character, subjoined to '" The Old 
Law," by the coiii|ianion of mv yoii'h, the friend 
of my malnr r years, the iiisejiarahlr and att'ection- 
ate associate of my pleasures and my pains, my 
graver and m\ li-bter studies, the Kev. JJr. Ire* 
landj, will, 1 am persuaded, be received with pecu- 
liar pleasure, if precision, vigour, discrimination, 
and originality, preserve their u^ual claims to 
esteem. 

'ihe head of JNIassinger, prefixed to this volume, 
was copied by my young friend Lascelles Hoppner, 
from the pr iit beiore three octavo jilays jiublished 
by H. Moseh'y, \6",S. Whether it be really the 
" vera effigies'" of the poet, 1 cannot pretend to say : it 
was produced sufficiently near his time to be accurate, 
and it has not the air of a fancy portrait. 1 here is, 
I believe, no other. 



• In uncouth lansiinye] It is singular that Mr. Stcevens, 
who was so well aci|uamted with the woids of onr ancient 
writers, should be so ignorant of their siyle. The language 
which he lias pin inurthe mouth of Amner is a barbarouf 
Jumble of ditleient ages, that never had, and never couUl 
have, a prototype. 

fOne book which (not being, perhaps, among the 
arc: ives so caieli.lly explond for the bmetii if the youthful 
readei«of .Siiakspeare) seems to fiave escaped the iioiice of 
Mr. CoUiiio. may yet be safely commended to his future 
researches, as not unlikely to reward his pains. He wil) 
find in it, amoni; many other lliing-i eqmlly valuable, 
that " The knowli'dge of viic/tedmss is vut wisdiniu nei- 
ther at any time the counsel of sini,er~ i rudeiice."--£'tri/?«. 
xix. 2i. 

I Prebendary of Westniiuster, and Vicar of Croydon :a 
Surrey. 



ESSAY 



DRAMATIC WRITINGS OF MASSINGER. 



BY JOHN FERRIAR, M.D. 



- - - Bes antiqiKT laudis et artis 
Ino-redior, sanetos auius recludere j'onles. Vino. 



It mio:Iit be urged, as a proof of our possessing a 
uperfiuitv of good plays in our language, that one 
•f cur best dramatic writers is very generally dis- 
regarded. But wiiafever conclusion may be drawn 
from this fict, it will not be easy to free the public 
from the suspicion of caprice, while it continues to 
idolize Shakspeare, and to neglect an author not 
often much inferior, and sometimes nearly equal, to 
that wonderful poet. Massinsjer's fate has, indeed, 
been hard, far beyond the common topics of the 
infelicity of genius. He was not merely denied the 
fortune for which he laboured, and the fame which 
he merited ; a still more cruel circumstance has at- 
tended his productions : literary pilferers have 
built their reputation on his obscurity, and the 
popularity of their stolen beauties has diverted 
the public attention from the excellent orii;inbl. 

An attempt was made in favour of this injured 
poet, in 1761, bv a new edition of liis works, at- 
tended with a critical dissertation on the old English 
dramiitists, in which, though composed with spirit 
and elegance, there is little to be found respecting 
Massinger. Another edition appeared in 1773, 
but the poet remained unexamined. Perhaps Mas- 
singer is still unfortunate in his vindicator. 

The same irreguhiriiy of_ plot, and disregard of 
rules, appear in iMassinger's productions as in those 
of his contemj)oraries. On this subject .Shakspeare 
has been so well defended that it is unnecessary to 
add any arguments in vindication of our poet. 
'J'here is every reason to sujii)Of-e that Massinger 
did not neglect the ancient rules from ignoranc e, 
for he appears to be one of our most learned writers, 
(notwitlistan<ling the insipid sneer of Antony 
Wood*) : and Cartwri.;lit, who was confessedly a 

• AtheruB ilxon. Vol. I. 



man of great erudition, is not more attenlive to tne 
unities than any other poet of that age. Hut our 
author, like Shakspeare, wrote for brewd : it a|>- 
peai's from different parts of liis works*, that much 
of his life had passed in slavish depenrierce, and 
penury is not apt to encourage a desire of liiine. 

One observation, however, may be risked, on our 
irregular and regular plays; that the fo^ner are 
more pleasing to the taste, and the laiter to the 
understanding; readers must determine, then, whe- 
ther it is better to feel or to approve. IMassinger's 
dramatic art is too -jreat to allow a faint sense of pro- 
priety to dwell on the mind, in perusing his pieces ; 
he inflames or soothes, excites the strongest terror, 
or the softest pity, with all the energy and j)ower 
of a true poet. 

But if we must a<lmit that an irregular plot 
subjects a writer to peculiar disadvantages, the 
force of IMassinger's genius will appear more evi- 
dently from this very concession. 'J'he interest of 
bis pieces is, for the most part, strong and well 
defined ; the story, though worked up to a studied 
intricacy, is, in general, resolved with as much 
ease and probabiliiy as its nature will jiermit ; 
attention is never disgusted by anticipation, nor 
tortured with flfiinecessary delay. These chanicters 
are ap|)licahle to most of IMassinger's own produc- 
tions ; but in those which he wrote jointly with 
other dramatists, the interest is often weakened, by 
incidents which that age permitted, but which the 
present would not endure. Thus, in " The Rene- 
gaiio>," the honor of Paulina is preserved Mom the 
brutality of her Turkish master, by the influence of a 



* S»e |),irtiriiUiily tlie clfriication of "Tlie Maid of tlon<'ur.' 
and " TiietJieat Diil-e of I'lurfnce." 
t Tliis pl.i> was written by Massinger alone. 



ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS OF MASSINGER. 



relic, wliicb she wears on her breast: in "The 
Viro;iii Martyr," the heroine is Attended, through 
all her suft'erings, bv an angel disguised as her page ; 
her persecutor is urged on to destroy her by an 
attendant fiend, also in disguise. Here our anxiety 
for tb.^ distressed, and our hatred of the vicked, 
are compietelv stifled, and we are mor; easily 
aflVcted by some burlesque passages which follow 
in the same legendary strain. In the last quoted 
play, the attendant angel picks the pockets of 
two debauchees, and 'J'heophilus overcomes the 
devil bv means of a cross composed of flowers, 
which Dorothea had sent him from Paradise. 

The story of *' 'I'he Bondman" is more intricate 
than that of" The Duke of Milan," yet the former 
is a move interesting play ; for in the latter, the 
motives of Francisco's conduct, which occasions 
the distress of the piece, ate only disclosed in nar- 
ration, at the beginning of the fifth act: we there- 
fore consider him, till that moment, as a man 
absurdly and unnaturally vicious ; but in " The 
Bondman," we hav% frequent glinipi-es of a concealed 
splendour in the character of Pisander, which keep 
our attention fixed, and exalt our expectation of the 
catastrophe. A more striking tom|parison might 
be instituted between "The Fatal Dowry'' of our 
autlior,and Howe scopy of it in his " Fair Penitent ;" 
but this is very fully and judiciously done, by the 
author of " The Observer*," who has proved suf- 
ficiently, that the interest of " 'I'he Fair Penitent" 
is much weakened, by throwing into narration what 
Massiiiger had forcibly represented on the stage. 
Yet Rowe's play is rendered much more regular by 
the alteration. Farquhar's " Inconstant," wliich is 
taken from our auilior's " Guardian," and Fletcher's 
" \\'ild-goo>e Chace, is considerably less elegant 
and less interesting; by the plagiarist's indiscretion, 
the lively, facetious Durazzo of Massinger is trans- 
formed into a nauseous buffoon, in the character of 
old Mirabel. 

The art and judgment with which our poet con- 
duc's his incidents are every where admirable. In 
" 'I he Duke of Milan." our pity for INIarcelia would 
inspire a <lete>tatinn of all tlie other characters, if she 
did not facilitate her ruin by the indtilgence of an 
excessive )ride. In" I he liondman," Cleora would 
be des],icable when she changes her lover, if Leos- 
thenes had not rendered himself unworthy of her, 
by a mean jealousy. The violence of Alinira's 
passion in the " \"ery Woman," prepares us for its 
decay. l\lany detached scenes in these pieces pos- 
sess uncommon beauties of incident and situation. 
Of this, kind are, the interview betw een Charles V. 
and Sforzaf, which, though notoriously contrary to 
true history, and very deficient in the representation 
of tlie emperor, arrests our attention, and awakens 
our teelings in the strongest manner; the conterence 
of Matthias and Baptista, when Sophia's virtue 
becomes sui-pecled| ; the pleadings in "' '1 he Fatal 
Dowry," respecting the funeral iites of Charalois ; 
the interview between Don John, disguised as a 
slave, and his mistress, to whom he relates his 
9tor\ § ; but, above all, the meeting of Pisander and 
Cleoialj, alter he has excited the revolt of the slaves, 
in order lO get her within his power. ihese scenes 
are eminently distinguished by their novelty, cor- 



• No. I.XXXViri, LXXXIX, XC. 

t " Dntfot Milan," A.I. II. 

t " Pitliire." }" A Very Woman." 



Bondman.' 



rectness, and interest ; the most minute critic will 
find little wanting, and the lover of truth and nature 
can sufl'er nothing to be taken awav. 

It is no reproach of our author, that the foundation 
of several, perhaps all, of his plots may he traced in 
difl^erent historians, or novelists; for in .s«|i])lving 
himself from these sources, be followed the practice 
of the age. Shakspeare, Jonson, and the rest, are 
not more original, in this respect, than our Poet ; if 
Cartwright may be exempted, he is the only ex- 
ception to tliis remark. As the minds of an audience, 
unacquainted with the models of an'ii)uiiy, could 
only be affected by immediate application to their 
passions, our old writers crowded as many incidents, 
and of as perplexing a nature as possible, into tl^eir 
works, to sujiport anxiety and expectation to their 
utmost height. In our reformed tragic school, our 
pleasure arises from the contemplation of the writer's 
art ; and instead of eagerly watching fur the unfolding 
of the plot (the imaginaliou being left at liberty by 
the simplicity of the action), we consider wneilier it 
be properly conducted. Another reason, however, 
may be assigned for the intricacy of those plots, 
namely, the prevailing taste for the manners and 
wriiingsof liaiy. During the whole of the sixteenth 
and part of the seventeenth centuries, It.dv was 
the seat of elegance and arts, which the other Furo- 
pean nations had begun to admire, but not to imitate. 
From causes which it would be foreign to the pre- 
sent purpose to enumerate, the Italian writers 
abounded in conij^licated and interesting stories, 
which were eagerly seized by a people not well 
qualified for invention* ; but iNe richness, variety, 
and distinctness of character which our writers 
added to those tales, conl'erred beauties 01 them which 
charm us at this hour, howevei disguised by the 
alteration of manners and language. 

Exact discrimination and consistency of character 
appear in all Wassiiiger's productions ; sometimes, 
indeed, the interest of the play suffers by his scru- 
pulous attention to them. Thus, in " The Fatal 
Dowry," Char.ilois's fortitude and determined ^eiise 
of honour are carried to a most unfeeling and bar- 
barous degree ; and Francisco's villainy, in " Tho 
Duke of Milan," is cold and considerate beyond na- 
ture. But here we must again plead the sad nei.es- 
siiy under which our poet laboured, of ])leasiiig hi.i 
audience at any rate. It was the prevailing o])inion, 
that the characters ouirht to approach towarcs each 
other as little as possible. This was termed art, and 
in consecjuence of this, as Dr. Hurd saysf, some 
writers of that time have founded their characters on 
abstract ideas, instead of copying from real life. 
I'hose delicate and beautiful shades of manners, 
which we ailmire in Shakspeare, were reckoned in- 
accuracies by his contemporaries. Thus Cartwright 
says, in his verses to Fletcher, speaking- of Sliak- 
speare, whom he undervalues, " nature vus nil his 
art." 

General manners must always influence the stage ; 
unhappily, the manners of Massingei's age were 
pedaiiric. Y'et it must be allowed that our Author's 
characters are less abstract than those of Jonsoii or 
C.iriw right, and that, with more dignity, they are 



* Carlwriuht and Congreve, who resemble each otlicf 
stioni;i> in some remaikable circumstances, are ahiio.st 03J 
only (Iramati-ts who have any claim to originality in thei» 
ph.t<. 

t " Essay nn the Provinces of the Drama. 



ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS OF MASSINGER. 



equally natural with those of Fletcher. His con- 
ceptions are, for the most part, just and noble. We 
have a tine instance of this in the character of Dio- 
cletian, who, very differently from the ranting ty- 
rants by whom the stage has been so long possessed, 
is generous to his vanquished enemies, and perse- 
cutes from policy as much as from zeal. He attracts 
our lespect, immediately on his appearance, by the 
following sentiments : — 

- In all growing empires. 
Even cruelty is useful; some must suffer, 
And he set up examples to strike terror 
In othns, tliough far off: but, when a state 
Is raisid to her perfection, and her bases 
Too fir 11 to shrink, or yield, we may use mercy, 
And do't with safety: 

Virgin Martyr, Act. I. sc. i. 

Sfovza is an elevated character, cast in a different 
mould ; brave, frank, and generous, he is hurried, 
by the unrestrnined force of his passions, into fatal 
excesses in love and friendship. He appears with 
great diunitv before the emperor, on whose mercy he 
is thrown, by tlie defeat of his allies, the French, at 
the battle of i^avia. After recounting his obliga- 
tions to Francis, he proceeds : 

If tl)at,then, to be grateful 



P\)r courtesies received, or not to leave 
A fi lend in his necessities, be a crime 
Amongst you Spaniards, 

Sforza brings his head 
To pav the forfeit. Nor come I as a slave, 
Piiiioti'd and fetter'd, in a squalid weed, 
Fallini; before tliy feet, kneeUng and bowling, 
F(ir a forestall'd remission : that were poor, 
And wonlil but slianie thy victory ; for conquest 
Ovi r base foes, is a captivity. 
And 110! a triumph. 1 ne'er fear'd to die. 
Rime than I wish'd to live. When 1 had reach'd 
My ends in being a duke, I woie these robes, 
This crown ujion my bead, and to my side 
This sword was girt ; and witness truth, that, now 
''lis m aiiothei's power when 1 shall part 
Witli them and life togetl.-er, I'm the same : 
My veins then did not swell ^^ith pride; nor now 
Shrink they for fear. 

The Duke of Milan, Act III. sc. ii. 

In the scene where Sforza enjoins Fram isco to dis- 
patcli iMarcelia, in case of the emperor's proceeding 
to extremities against him, the poet has given him 
a strong expression of horror at his own purpose. 
After disposing Francisco to obey his commands 
without reserve; by recapitulating the favours con- 
ferred on him, Sforza proceeds to impress him with 
the bhickest view of the intended deed : 

- But you must swear it ; 
And put into the oath all jojs or torments 
That fright the wicked, or confirm the good : 
Not to conceal it only, that is nothing. 
Bur whensoe'er my will shall speak. Strike now. 
To fall upon't like thunder. 

- - - Thou must do, then. 

What no malevolent star will diire to look on. 
It is so wicked : for which men will curse ihee 
For Ixing the instrument; and ihe blest angels 
Forsake me at my need, for being the author : 



' For 'tis a deed of night, of night, Francisco ! 
In which the memory of all good actions 
We can pretend to, shall be buried quick : 
Or, if we be remeinber'd, it shall he 
To fright posterity by our example. 
That have outgone all precedents of villains 
That were before us ; 

The Duhe of Milan, Act I. sc. ult. 

If we compare this scene, and especially the pas- 
sage 'juoted, with the celebrated scene between King 
John and Hubert, we shall perceive this remarkable 
difference, th;it Sforza, while be proposes to his 
brother-in-law and favourite, the eventful murder of 
his wife, whom he idolizes, is consistent and deter- 
mined ; his mind is tilled wiih the horror of the 
deed, but borne to the execution of it by the im- 
pulse of an extravagant and fantastic delicacy; 
John, who is actuated solely bv the desire of re- 
moving Iiis rival in the crown, not only fears to 
communicate his [lurpose to Hubert, though be per- 
ceives him to be 

A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd. 
Quoted, and sign'd to do a deed of shame; 

but after he has sounded him, and found him ready 
to execute whatever he can propose, he only hints 
at the deed. Sforza enbirges on the cruelly and 
atrocity of his design ; John is afraid to uUer hii 
ill the view of the sun : nay, the sanguinary Ri^diard 
hesitates in proposing the murder of his nephews 
to Hnckingham. In this instance then, as well as 
that of Charalois, our poet may seem to deviate from 
ii.iture, for ainbilioii is a stronger passion than lore, 
yet Sforza decides with more ])roniptness and confi- 
dence than either of Shaksjie. ire's characters. We 
must C''nsider, however, that timidity and irresolu- 
tion are characteristics of John, and that Richard's 
hesitation appears to be assumed, only in order to 
traiisler the guilt and odium of the action to Buck- 
ingham. 

It "as hinted before, that the c'laracter of Pisan 
der, in " The Bondman," is more iiii erecting than that 
of Sforza. His virtues, so unsuitable to the character 
of a slave, the boldness of his designs, and the 
steadiness of his courage, exci'e attention and anx- 
iety in the most powerful manner. He 's perfectly 
consistent, and, though lightly shaded with chivalry, 
is not deficient in nature or pission. Leoslhenes is 
also the child of nature, whom peihaps we trace in 
some later jealous characters. Cleora is finely 
drawn, hut to the present age, perhaps, appears 
rati. er too masculine: the exhibition of characters 
which should wear an iinalienible charm, in their 
finest ;iiid almost insensible touches, was peculiar to 
the prophetic genius of S:iak>])eare*. Massinger 
has ^iven a strong proof of his geiiiu*, hv intro- 
ducing in a difi'erent play, a biiiular character, in a 
like siiuaii';n to that of Pisander, yet. with sufficient 
discrimiiiaiKiii of manners and incideiu : I mean don 
•lohn.in '• l heVery Woman," w ho like Pis;iiider, gains 
his mistress's heart, under the disguise of a slave. 
D'Vi John is a model of magiianuiuty, superior to 
Cato, because he is tree from pedantry and osten* 



* It" Miissinsier formed llie .sini:iilar cliararler iif Sir Gilei 
()v<'iie.icli iKiiii his own iinayiiiatiiin, wli.ii .-lu.iild wt ihink 
(11 lii.s sHUHc-ilj, wlu) have seen this poillc.il ph iiii.un re.ili/.ed 
in our d.i^sf Its appuieiit extiavaj^aiRe rtqjin.il thil 
support. 



ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS OF MASSI.VGER. 



tation. I believe be mav be regarded as an original 
character. It was easy to interest our feeling's for 
all the cliaracters alreiidy described, but no writer, 
before Massinger, had attempted to make a player 
the hero of tragedy. This, however, he has exe- 
cuted with surprising address, in "The Iloman 
Actor." It must be confessed that Paris, the actor, 
owes much of iiis dignity to incidents ; at the open- 
ing; of the Jjlay, he defends his profession suciess- 
fuUy before the seir.ite ; this artful introduction 
raises him, in our ideas, above the level of his silua ■ 
tion, for the poet has " graced him with all the 
power of words;" the empress's passion for him 
places him in a still more distinguished liglit, and 
he mei ts iiis death fiora the hand of the emperor 
himself, in a mock Jilay. It is, perhaps, from a sense 
of the ilitficuliy of exalting Paris's character, and of 
the dexterity re(juisite to fix the attention of the 
audience on it, tliat Massinger says, in the dedica- 
tion of this play, that " he ever lield it the most 
perfect binh o( his Minerva." 1 know not whether 
it is owing' to design, or to want of art, that llomont, 
m " The Fatal Dowry," interests us as much as 
Charalois, tiie hero. If Charalois suirenders his 
liberty to procure funeral r.tes for his father, llo- 
mont previously jirovokes the court to imprison 
him, by speaking with two much animation in the 
cause of his friend. Rornont, though insulted hy 
Charalois, who discredits his report of Beaumelle's 
infidelity, fiies t(i him with all the eagerness ol ni- 
tachment, when Charalois is involved in ditficultifs 
by the murder of Novall and his wife, and revenges 
his death, when he is assassinated by Ponialier. 
Rowe, who neglected the finest parts of this tragedy 
in his plagiarism "The Fair Penitent," has not 
failed to cojty the fault I have jiointed out. His 
Horatio is a nnnh finer character than his Altainont, 
yet ho IS but a jiuppet when compared with iMas- 
singer's Romont. Camiola, " 'i'he Maid of Honour," 
is a most delightful character ; her fidelity, gene- 
rosity, dignity of manners, and elevation of senti- 
ments are finely displayed, and nobly sustained 
throughout. It is pity that the poet ihougiu him- 
self obliged to debase all the other characters in 
the piece in order to exidt her. There is an admirable 
portrait of Old Maleforr, in that extravagant com- 
position " 'J'he Unnatural Combat." The J'oet 
seems to equal the art of the writer whom ha here 
imitates : 

I have known him 
From his first youth, but never yet observed, 
In all the passages of his life and fortunes, 
Virtues so mis'd with vices : valiant the world 

speaks him, 
But with that, bloody ; liberal in his gifts too, 
But to maintain his prodigal expense, 
A fierce extortioner ; an im])otent lover 
Of women for a flash, but, his fires quench'd, 
Plating as deadly : Act. 111. sc. ii. 

Almira and Cardenes, in " The Very Woman," 
are copied from nature, and therefore never obso- 
lete. They appear, like many favourite characters j 
in our present coniedyr, amiable in their tempers, and 
warm iu their attachments, but capricious, and im- 
patient of control. ]\I:»ssinger, with unusual charity, 
has introduced a physician in a resjiectable pdint of 
view, in this play. We are agreeably interested in 
DurazzQ*., who has all the good nature of Terence's 

* "The Guardian." 



Micio, with more spirit. His picture of country 
sports may be viewed with delight, even by those 
who might not reli.->h the reality : 

- - - rise before the sun, 
'1 hen make a breakfast of the morning dew. 
Served up by nature on some grassy hill ; 
You'll finil It nectar. 

In " The City Madam" we are presented with the 
character of a fini>hed hypocrite, but so artfully 
drawn, that he ap])ears to he rather governed by 
external circumstances, to which he adupts himself, 
than to act, like Moliere's Tartutl't-, irom a formal 
system of wickedness. His luimilUv and benevo- 
lence, while he a])pears as a ruined man, and as his 
biother's servant, are evidently produced by the 
pressure of his misfortunes, and he discovers a 
tamehess, amidst the insults of his rel.itions, that 
indicates an inherent, baseness of disposiiion*.— 
When he is informed that his brother has retired 
from the world, and has left him his immense for- 
tune, he seems at first to apprehend a deception : 

- - - O my good lord ! 

This heap of wealth which you possess me of, 

Which to a wordly man had been a blessing, 

And to the messenger might with justice ihallenge 

A kind of adoration, is to me 

A curse I cannot thank you for; and much less 

Rejoice in that tranquillity of mind 

My brother's vows must |iuicliase. I have made 

A dear exchange with him: he now enjoys 

My peace and poverty, the trouble of 

His wealih conferr'd on me, and that a burthen 

Too heavy for my weak shoulders. 

Act 111. sc. ii. 

On receiving the will, he begins to promise un- 
bounded lenity to his setvanls, imd makes pro- 
fessions and piomises to the ladies who used him 
so cruelly in his adversity, which ai)|ieiir nt last to 
be ironical, though they lake them to be sincere 
He does not display himself till he has visited his 
wealth, the sight of which dazzles and astonishes 
him so far as to throw him oft his guard, and to 
render him insolent. Rlassinger displays a know- 
ledge of man, not very usual with drama'ic writers, 
while he represents the same person as prodigal of 
a small fortune in his youth, servile and In pocritic&l 
in his distresses, arbitrary and rapacious in tha 
possession of wealth suddenly acquired : fur those 
seeming changes of character depend on the same 
disposition variously influenced ; I mean on a base 
and feeble mind, incapable of resisting the power of 
external circumstances. In order, hoTvever, to 
prepare us for the extravagances of this char.icter, 
after he is enriched, the poet delineates lis exces- 
sive transports on viewing his wealth, in a speech 
which cannot be injured by a comcaiison with any 
soliloquy in our language • 

' I'was no fantastic object, but a truth, 
A real truth ; nor dream: 1 did not slumber, 
Ar.\ could wake ever with a brooding eye 
To gaze upon't ! it did endure the touch, 
I saw and felt it ! Yet what I belield 
Anil handled oft, did so transcend belief, 
(My wonder and astonishment ]iass d o'er), 
1 iaintly could give credit to my senses. 

* See particularly his soliloquy. Act III. Sc. ii. 



ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS OF MASSINGER. 



Thou dumb maffician — \^Takivg out a key'\, — that 

without a charm 
Did'st make my entrance easy, to possess 
Wliat wise men wish and toii foi ! Hermes' 

mnlv, 
Sihvllii's <roIden bough, ifie srreat elixir, 
lmai;inei| only by the alcfiyniist, 
Co!nj)atp(l with thee are shadows, — tliou the 

subsiance, 
And };uiirdiati of fnlicirv ! No marvel 
R]y broilier made tliv place of rest his bosom, 
'I'liou hfinu: the keeper of iiis heart, a mistress 
To he Iniiiu'd ever ! In bv-cornvis of 
Tliis >.icied room, silver in bai^s, lieap'd up 
Like billets saw'd and ready fur the fire, 
Unworlliy to hoM (ellow!-lii|i with hrii^lit goKl 
'J hat (low'd about tlie room, conceal'il itself. 
There neeils no artificial liuht ; the splendout 
Makes a perpetual dav theie, night and darkness 
]5v tliat still-burning' lamp tor ever banisli'd ! 
But wiien, guided by that, my eves had made 
discover V f)f the caskets, and they open'd. 
Each s;«n himg iiiamt>nd Jivni itself sliocjurtfi 
A puniiniil nj Jinnies, anil in the uwj 
Fi.i'd It It gtoiioiis slar, iiiiil made tlie placf- 
Ucaieti's ahslnicl orepliomef — rubies, sapphires, 
And ropes of oriental |)earl ; these seen, I could 

not 
lint look on gold with contempt*. And yet I 

found 
What «eak credulity could have no faith in, 
A treasure farexceeding lliese : here lay 
A manor bound fast in a skin of parchment, 
'i he wax continuing hard, the acres melting; 
Here a sure deed of gift for a market town, 
If not redeem'd this day, which is not in 
The untlirift's power ; there being scarce one shire 
In Wales or Kngland where my monies are not 
Lent out at usury, the cer.ain hook 
To draw in more. 1 am sublimed ! gross earth 
Supports me not; I walk on air! Who's 

there ? 

Enter Laid Lacv with Sir .Ioiin Frvgal. Sir i\lAunicE 
Lacy, and Fllnty, </js^ii /«(•(/ us Indians. 
Thieves ! raise the street 1 thieves ! 

Act III. sc. iii. 

It was a great fffort, by whicli such a train of vio- 
lent eiiioiioiis, and beautiiul images was drawn, with 
the strictest proprieiy, from the indulgence of a pas- 
sion to which oilier ])oets can only give interest in 
its anxieties and disappointments. Every sentiment 
in this fine solilo(|uy is touched with the hand of a 
raasi(!r; the speaker, overcome by the sjilendour of 
his acquisitions, can scarcely persuade himself that 
the event is real ; " it is no fantasy, but a truth ; a 
real truth, no dream ; he does not slumber ;" the 
natural language of one who strives to convince 
himself that he is fortunate beyond all probable 
expectation ; for " he could wake ever to g»ze upon 
bis tnasure :" again he reverts to his assurances. 



• III these quotations tlie present edition lia- brcn hillicrto 
follo\\e<l IJr. Ferri.ir, it iip|jeais, iiM<le use ..t' Mr. M. 
Alrt-ons, to whose vitiated le.idinijs It is ikicsskij to recur 
on ilii- (iiesent oc(M?iun, a.-, the Uoclor founds on iheni lib 
exciption to Ihe (;ener.il exCLllence of Mas-liii;er's vei silica 
lion. III? leader who wishes to know how tliese lines were 

reill) given by ihe I'oet ist turn to |)at;e 3U3, wlieie he 

will tiiid Ihein to he as flowing and liarniunioini as any part 
Of ibe speech. — KuiTuu. 



" it did endure the touch, he .«aw and felt it." 
These broken exclamations and anxious repetitions, 
are the pure voice of nature. Recovering from his 
astonishment, bis mind dilates with the value of his 
possessions, and the poet finely directs the whole 
gratitude of tliis mean character to tlie key of bis 
stores. In the description which follows, there is a 
striking climax in sordid luxury ; that passage where 

Each sparkling diamond from itself sliot forth 
A pyramid of flames, and in the roof 
Fix'd it a glotious star, and made the place 
Heaven's abstract, or epitome I 

though founded on a false idea in natural histcry 
long since exploded, is amply excused by the sin- 
gular and beautiful image which it jireseiits. The 
contemplation of his enoimous wealth, s'ill ampli- 
fied by his fancy, transports himar length to a degree 
of frenzy; and now seeing strangers approach, he 
cannot conceive them to come ujioii j ny design but 
that of robbing him, and with the appeasing of his 
ridiculous alarm, this storm of passion sub.-idea, 
which stands unrivalled in its kind in dramatic 
his'ory. The soliloquy possesses a very uncommon 
beauiy, that of forcible de,-cri|)tion united with 
passim and character, I should scarcely hesitate 
to ]irefer the descri|)tion of Sir John Frugal's count- 
ing-house to Spen-er's house of riches. 

It is very remarkable, that in this passage the 
versification is so exact (tw o lines oi.ly excep'ed), 
and the diction so pure and elegant, that, although 
much more than a century has elap.-.e(l since it wis 
written, it would be, perhaps, impossible to alter tlie 
measureor language without injury, and certainly very 
diflScult to ]iroduce an equal length of blank vcse, 
from any modern ])oet, which should bear a compari- 
son with Massiiiger's, even in the mecbaniial part of 
its construction, this observation may he extended to 
all our poet's productions: majesty, elegance, and 
sweetne.ss of diction jiredoniinate in them. It is 
needless to (jiiote any single [lassage for proof of 
this, because none of those which I am going 
to introduce will afiTord any exception to the 
remark. Independent of character, the writings of 
this great jmet abound with noble passages. It is 
only in the productions of true poetical genius that 
we meet succe.ssful allusions to sublime natural 
objects; the attempts of an inferior writer, in this 
kind, are either borrowed or disgusting. If Mas- 
singer were to ne tried by this rule alone, we must 
rank him very high ; a few instances will prove this. 
Theophilus, speaking of Dioclesian's arrival, says, 

'Ihe marches of great princes, 
Like to the motions of prodigeous meteors. 
Are step by st. p observed ; 

Virgin Martyr, Act I. sc. i. 

The introductory circumstances of a threatening piece 
of inteditrjnce, are 

but creeping billows. 
Not got to shore yet : ll>- Act II. sc. ii. 

In the same play, we meet with this charming image, 

ajiplied to a modest young nobleman : 

The sunbeams which the emperorthrows t;pon him. 

Shine there but as in water, and gild him 

Not with one spot of pride : Ih. sc. iif. 

No othtr figuie could so happily illustrate tbe 
peace and purity of an ingenuous mind, uucorruptei 



ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS OF MASSINGKR. 



by favour. Massinger seems foad of this thou;;lit ; 
we meet with a similar one in " The Guardian :" 

I have seen those eyes with pleasant glances play 

Upon Adorio's, like Phoebe's shine, 

Gliding a crystal river ^ Act IV. sc. i. 

There are two parallel passages in Shakspeare, to 
whom we are probably indebted for this, as well as 
for many otiier fine imiiges of our poet. The first 
is in " The Winter's 'J'ale:" 

He says he loves my daughter : 
I think so too : for never gazed the moon 
Upon liie water, as he'll stand and read, 
As 'twere my daughter's eyes. Act IV. sc. iv. 

The second is ludicrous : 

King. Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, 
to shine 
(Those clouds remov'd) upon our wat'ry 
eyne. 
Rot. O, vain petitioner ! beg a greater matter ; 

i hou now request st but moon-shine in the 
water. 

Love's Labour's Lost, Act V. sc. ii. 

The following images areapjilied, 1 think, in a new 
uauner : 

as the sun, 
Thou didst rise gloriously, kept'st a constant 

course 
In all thy journey ; and now, in the evening. 
When thou shoiild'st pass with honour \o thy rest. 
Will thou fall like a meteor ! 

Virgin-Murtur, Act V. sc. ii. 

O summer friendship, 
Whose flattering leaves that sliwlow'd us in our 
Prosjierity, with the least gust drop off 
In ilie autumn of adversity. 

Maid oj Honour, Act III. sc. i. 

In the last quoted play, Caniiola says, in perplexity, 

- - - What a sea 
Of melting ice I walk on ! Act III. sc. iv. 

A very noble figure, in the following passage, seems 
borrowed from tjhakspeare : 

What a bridge 
Of glass I walk upon, over a river 
Of certain ru;n, mine own iLeij^hly J'mrs 
Cracking what nhould snjiporl me ! 

The Bondman, Act IV. sc. iii. 

I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ; 
As full of peril and advent'rous spirit, 
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud, 
On the unsieadfast footing of a spear. 

Henry I v.. Pint 1. Act I. sc. iii. 

It cannot be denied that Massinger has improved 
on Ills orii;inal : he cannot be said to burrow, 
80 pr-iperly as to imitate. '1 his remark may be 
applied to many other passages : thus Harpax's 
menace, 

I'll taie thee - - and hang thee 
In a contorted chain of icicles 
In the frigid zone : 

The Virgin-Martyr, Act V. sc. i. 

Is derived from the same source with ihnt jiassage 
in " iMeasuie for Measure," where it is said to be 
a punisbr.ient in a future state, 



- - •• - to reside 

In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice. 

Again, in " The Old Law," we meet with a passage 
similar to a much celebrated one of Shakspeare 's, 
but copied with no common hand ; 

In my youth 
I was a soldier, no coward in my age; 
1 never turn'd my back upon my foe ; 
I have felt nature's winters, sicknesses, 
Yet ever kept a lively sap in me 
To greet the cheerful spring of health again. 

Act I. sc. i. 

Thou;jh I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : 
For in my youth 1 never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors to my blood; 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility ; 
Therefore mv age is as a lusty winter. 
Frosty, but kindly*. 

As You Like It, Act. II. sc. iii. 

Our poet's writings are stored with fine senti- 
ments, and the same observation which has been 
made on Shakspeare's, holds true of our Author, that 
his sentiments are so artfully introduced, that they 
ap])ear to come uncalled, and so force themselves on 
the mind of the sjieakerf. in the legendary play of 
"The Virgin-Martyr," Angelo delivers a beau- 
tiful sentiment, perfectly in the spirit of the piece: 

Look on the poor 
With gentle eyes, for in such habits, often, 
Angels desire an alms. 

When Francisco, in "The Duke of Milan," suc- 
ceeds in his designs against the life of Marcelia, he 
remarks with exultation, that 

When he's a suitor, that brtngs cunning arm'd 
Witli power, to be his advocates, the denial 
Is a disease as killing as the plague. 
And chastity a clue that leads to death. 

Act IV. sc. ii. 

Pisander, in " The Bondman," moralizes the inso- 
lence of the slaves to their late tyrants, after the 
revolt, in a manner that tends stiongly to interes* 
us in his character: 

Here thev, that never see themselves, but in 
The glass of servile flattery, might behold 
The weak foundation upon which ihey build 
Their trust in human frailty. Happy are those, 
That knowing, in their births, they are subject to 
Uncertain change, are still prepared, and arm'd 
For either fortune : a rare principle, 
And with much labour, learn d in wisdom** 

school ! 
For, as these bondmen, by their actions show 
That their prosperity, like too large a sail 
For their small bark'of judgment, sinks them with 
A (bre-nght gale ot liberty, ere they reach 
■file port the\"longto touch at : so these wretches, 

» 111 an expression of AichUlaimis, in "llic Bon<lnian,'» 
we (li-tover, perliapt, the oriijiu of mi image in " Paradise 
Lost ;'■— 

O'er our lieads, with s;iil slietch'rt wini!?, 

1). siriu lion liovers. J he Bondman, Act I. iC. I» 

Milton srt)» oi Sai.in, 

JJis sail broad vanm 

He spie.iil» lor liigUl. ', 

» Mrs. Alonlasu's " Essay on bhakspeare. 



ESSAY ON' THE WRITINGS OF MASSIXGFR. 



Swollen \vitli the filse opinion of their worth. 
And proud of hlessifigs left ii)em, not acquired ; 
That did believe they could with giant arms 
Fathom the earth, and wereubove their fates, 
Tiiose oorrow'd helps that did support them, 

vanish'd, 
Fall of themselves, and by unmanly suffering-, 
Betrav their pro|)er weakness. Act HI. sc. iii. 

His compl-iint of the hardships of slavery must not 

he entiiely passed over : 

- - - The noble horse, 

That, in hi^Jierij youlh, fron his iriile nostrils 
Neigh'd courage to Itis rider, and brake through 
Groves of opposed pikes, bearing' his lord 
Safe to triumphant victory ; old or wounded 
Was set at liberty, and freed from service. 
The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew 
Marble, hew'd fir the temples of the gods. 
The great work ended, were dismissed and fed 
At the public cost ; nay, faithful dogs have found 
Their sepulchres ; batman, to man more cruel. 
Appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave. 

lb. Act IV. sc. ii. 

The sens.T of degradation in a loftv mind, hurried 
into vice by a furiou* and irresistible passion, 
is expressed very haj)pily in " The llenegado,'' by 
Donu'sa : 

Wliat poor means 
Must 1 make use of now 1 and Hatter such. 
To whom, till I betray'd my liberty. 
One e;riicious look of mine would have erected 
An altar to my service ! Act [I. sc. i. 

Again, 

O that I should blush 
To speak what 1 so much desire to do ! 

When Rlathias, in " The Picture," is informed by 
the magical skill of his friend, that his wife's honour 
is ill danger, his first exclamations have at least as 
much sentiment as passion : 

It is not more 
Impossible in nature for gross bodies. 
Descending of themselves to hang in the air; 
Or with my single arm to underjirop 
A falling tower : nay, in its violent course 
To stOD the lightning, than to stay a woman 
Hurried by two furies, lust and falsehood, 
In her full career to wickedness ! 

- - - I am thrown 

From a steep rock headlong into a gulph 

Of misery, and tind myself past hope. 

In the same moment that I apprehend 

That 1 am falling. Act IV. sc. i. 

But if Massinger does not always exhibit the live- 
liest and most natural expressions of passion ; if, 
like most other poets, he sometimes substitutes de- 
clamation for those expressions; in description at 
least he puts forth all his strength, and never 
disappoints us of an astonishing exertion. We may 
be content to rest his character, in the description 
cf passion, on the following single instance. In 
" '1 he V^ery Woman," Almira's Lover, (.'tirdenes, is 
dangerously wounded in a quarrel, by don John 
Ant:uio. who pays his addresses to her. Take, 
now, a description of Almira's frenzy on this event, 
which the prodigal author has put into the mouth 
>f p chambermaid: 



If she slumber'd, straight, 
As if some dreadful vision had nppear'd, 
She started up, her hair unbound, ami, with 
Distracted looks, staring about the cliiiiuber, 
She asks aloud, ]Vhere is Martinn? wJiiire 
Have you concealed 'him ? sometimes names 

Antonio, 
Trenihling in everij joint, her brows contracted, 
Her fair i ace as 'twere changed into a cnne. 
Her hands held up thus ; and, as if her words 
Wtre too big to find passage tiirough her mouthy 
She groans, then throws herself upon her bed. 
Beating her breast. At t II. sc. iii. 

To praise or to elucidate this passagn, would be 
equally superfluous; I am acquainted with nothing 
superior to it, in descriptive poetry, and it would be 
hardy to brin^j any single instance in competition 
with it. Our poet is not less hap[)y in his descrip- 
tions of inanimate nature, and his descriptions bear 
the peculiar stamp of true genius in their beautiful 
conciseness. What an exquisite picture does be 
present in the compass of less than two lines ! 

- yon hanging cliff, that glasses 
His rugged forehead in the neighbouring lake, 

Kenegado, .•\ct II. sc. v. 

Thus also Dorothea's description of Paradise : 

There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth : 
No joint-benumbing cold, or scorching heat. 
Famine, nor age, have any being there. 

The Virgin Martyr, Act IV. Sc. iii. 

After all the encomiums on a rural life, ;ind after 
all the soothing sentiments and beautiful image.« 
lavished on it by poets who never lived in the 
country, Massinger has furnished one of the most 
charming unborrowed descriptions that can be pro- 
duced on the subject: 

Happy (he golden mean ! had I been born 

In a poor sordid cottage, not nurs"d up 

With expectation to command a court, 

I might, like such of your condition, sweetest. 

Have ta'en a safe and middle course, and not, 

As I am now, against my choice, compeil d 

Or to lie grovelling on the earth, or raised 

So high upon the ])innacles of state, 

That I must either keep my height with danger. 

Or fall with certain ruin 

- we might walk 
In solitary groves, or in choice gardens ; 
From the variety of curious flowers 
Contemplate nature's workmanship and wonders* 
And then, for change, near to the murmur of 
Some bubbling fountain, I might hear you sing. 
And, from the well-tuned accents of your tongue, 
In my imagination conceive 
With what melodious harmony a quire 
Of angels sing above their ftlaker's praises. 
And then with chaste discourse, as we return'd. 
Imp feathers to the broken wings of time :— 

... walk into 

The silent groves, and hear the amorous birds 
Warbling tiieir wanton notes; here, a sure shade 
Of barren siccamores, which the all-seeing sun 
Could not pierce through ; near that, an arbour hung 
With spreading eglantine; there, a bubbling spring 
Watering a bank of hyacinths and lilies ; 

The Cheat Diihe of Florence, Act I. Sc. i. and 
A';t IV. Sc. 11. 



ESSAY O.V THE WRITINGS OF MASSINGER. 



Lot us oppose lo these peaceful and inglorious ima- 
res, tbe picture of a triumph by the same masterly 
band : 

when she views you, 
Like a triumphant conqueror, canied through 
The streets of Synicusa, (he glad peo|ile 
Pressing to meet you. and tlie senators 
Contending who sball heap most lionours on you; 
The oxen, crown'd with garlands, led before you, 
Appointed for tbe sacrifice ; and tbe aliars 
Smoking with thankful incense to tbe gods : 
The soldiers cliauntingloud hymns to your praise. 
The windows fill'd with matrons and with virgins, 
Throwing upon your head, as you pass by, 
The choicest flowers, and silently invoking 
The queen of love, with their particular vows, 
To bo thought worthv of you 

the Bondman, Act IIL Sc. iv. 

Every thing here is animated, yet every action is ap- 
propriate : a painter might work alter tbis sketch, 
without requiring an additional circumstance. 

The speech of young Charalois, in the funeral pro- 
cession, if too metaphorical for bis character and 
situation, is at least highly poetical: 

How like a silent stream shaded with night. 
And gliding softly with our windy sighs, 
Moves the whole frame of tbis solemnity ! 

Whilst I, the only murmur in this grove 
Of death, thus hollowly break loriii. 

The Fatal Dowry, Act IL Sc. i. 

It may afford some consolation to inferior genius, 
to remark tiiat even iMassinger sometimes employs 
pedantic and dverstrained allusions. He was fond 
of displayiIl^•■ the little military knowledge be pos- 
sessed, winch he introduces in the following 
passage, in a most extraoidniary niaiintr: one beau- 
tiful image m it must excuse the rest : 

- were Margaret only fair, 
Tbe cannon of her more than earthly form, 
'1 bough mounted high, commanding all beneath it. 
And raiiim'd with bullets of her si>arkling eyes, 
Cf all the bulwarks that defend your senses 
Could bailer none, but that which guards your sight. 
But - - - - 

when you feel her touch, and breath 
Like a soft ue>>ieni wind, when it glides o'er 
Arabia, creutiiig gums and spices ; 
And in the van, the nectar of bt-f lips, 
Which you must taste, bring the battalia on, 
Well arm'd, and stronjjly lined with her discourse, 

• ■!••• 

Hippolytus himself would leave Diana, 
To follow such a Venus. 

A New Way to Pay Old Debts, Act IIL Sc. i. 

What pity, that he should ever write so extrava- 
gantly, who could produce this tender and delicate 
image, in another piece : 

What's that? oh,nothingbut the whispering wind 
Breathes through yon churlish hawthorn, that grew 

rude. 
As if it chid the gentle breath that kiss'd it. 

The Old Law, Act IV. Sc. ii. 

I wish it could be added to Massinger's just praises, 
that he had preserved his scenes Irora tbe impure 
dialogue which disgusts us in most of our old 
3 



wriitTs. Hut we may observe, in defence of his 
failure, ihiit several causes operated at that time 
to prii(lu',-e such a dialogue, and that an author who 
subsisiftl bv writing, was ab,«olutetv subjected to 
the influence of those causes. The manners of the 
age peril iid'd great freedoms in langiuige; ilie the- 
atre was not frequented by tbe best company: the 
male jiart of tlie audience was by much the more 
numerous; and what, perhaps, bad a greater efTeot 
than imy of these, the women's parts were performed 
by boys. So powerful was the eft'«-ct of those cir- 
cumstances, that Cariwright is the only dramatist of 
that age whose works are tolerably free from inde- 
cency, ftlassinger's errcr, perha[)S, appears more 
strongly, because his indelicacy bus nin alwavs the 
apology of w it ; for, either from a natural deficiency 
in that (jualiiv, or from tbe peculiar model on which 
he had torineit himself, his comic characters are less 
witty than those of his contem])orrtri8s, and when 
be at enipis wit, ho frequently degenerates into 
buff'oonerv. Hut be has showed, in a remarkable 
manner, the jus'ness of his taste, in declitring the 
practice oi (juhbling ; and-as wit and a quibble were 
suppc)s<d. Ml that aye, to be inseparable, we are per- 
haps to seek, ill his aversion to the |irevailiiig fully, 
the tiu<- cause of bis sparing emplo\raeiit of wit. 

Our I'ocf excels more in the descnpimii than in 
the expression of passion; this may be ascribed, in 
some iiieasuie, to his nice attention to the fable: 
while Ills .^-ceiies are managed with consummate skill, 
the lii;lrer shades of character and senliineiit are 
lost in ilie t( iKlency of each part to the catastrophe. 

Tb ■ prevailing beauties of lis pruductioiis are 
dignitv Hiul elegance; their predominant tault is 
want 1.1 jias^ion. 

Tlif melody, force, and variety of his versification 
are ever \ u here remarkable : admitiinsj the force of 
all the oiijeciions which are made to the employment 
of bi.iiilv verse in comedy, Ma^siIlger possesses 
charii:3 >u(licient to dissipnte them all. It i>, indeed, 
equalu (Unereiit from lliat which modern authors 
are |.h a>eii to s^yle blank verse, and from the flip- 
pant I losf so loudly celebrated in the comedies of 
the dav. 'I'liH neglect of our old comedies seems 
to arise iVo II other causes, than from the employ- 
ment ol blank verse in their dialogue ; for, in 
gene:al. its consi ruction is so natural, that in the 
mouth of a good actor it runs into elegant ])rose. 
The liei|uent lieiineatioiis of perishable manners, in 
our old comedy, have occasioned this ntglect, and 
we may foresee the f\»te of our present fishionable 
pieces, in that which hasattended Jonson's, Fletclier'S, 
and Massinger's: they are either entirely overlooked, 
or so mutilated, to fit them for representation, as 
neither to retain tbe dignity of tbe old comedy, nor 
to acquire the graces of tbe new. 

The changes of manners have necessarily pro- 
duced very remarkable eflfecis on theatrical peiform- 
ances. In proportion as our best writers are 
further removed from the present times, they 
exhibit bolder and more diversified characters, 
because tbe prevailing manners admitted a fuller 
display of sentiments in the common intercourse of 
life. Our own times, in which the intention of 
polite education is to produce a general, uniform 
manner, afford little diversity of character for the 
stage. Our dramatists, therefore, mark the dis- 
tinctions of their characters, by incidents more than 
by sentiments, and abound more in striking situ- 
ations, than interesting dialogue. In the old 



ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS OF MASStNGER. 



comedy, the catastroplie is occasioned, in general, 
by a change in the mind of some principal character, 
artfully prepared, and cautiously conducted ; in the 
modern, the unfolding of the plot is effected by the 
overturning of a screen, the opening of a door, or 
by some other equally dignified machine. 

When we compare Massinger with the other 
dramatic writers of his age, we cannot long hesitate 
where to place him. More natural in his charac- 
ters, and more poetical in his diction than Jonson 
or Cartwright, more elerated and nervous than 
Fletcher, the only writers who can be supposed to 
contest his pre-eminence, Massinger ranks imme- 
diately under Shakspeare himself. 

It must be confessed, that in comedy Massinger 
falls considerably beneath Shakspeare ; his wit is 
less brilliant, and his ridicule less delicate and 
Tsrious ; but he affords a specimen of elegant 



comedy", of which there is no archetyi>e in hi 
great predecessor. By the rules of a very judicious 
criticf, the characters in this piece appear to be of 
too elevated a rank for comedy : yet though 
the plot is somewhat embarrassed by tliis circum- 
stance, the diversity, spirit, and consistency of th» 
characters render it a most interesting phiy. In 
tragedy, Massinger is rather eloquent than pathetic; 
yet be is often as majestic, and generally more 
elegant than his master ; lie is as powerful a ruler 
of the understanding as Shakspeare is of the pas- 
sions: with the disadvantages of succeeding that 
matchless poet, there is still much original beauty in 
bis works ; and the most extensive acquamtance 
with poetry will hardly diminish the pleasure of a 
reader and admirer of Massinger. 

• "The Great Duke of Florence." 

* Sec the " Kssay on the Provinces of the Dranu." 



COMMENDATORY VERSES ON MASSINGER. 



CPCN THIS WOnK (the PUKE OF MrLAx) OF MIS BKLOVED 
FIIIUND THE AUTtlOK. 

I AM snapt already, and may go my way ; 

The poet-ci-iiic's come ; 1 hear him say 

This youth's mistook, the autlior's work's a play. 

He could not miss it, he will straight appear 
At such a bait ; 'twas laid on purpose there 
To take the vermin, and I have him hero. 

Sirrah ! you will be nibbling ; a small bit, 
A syllable, when you're in the hungry fit, 
Will serve to stay the stomach of your wit. 

Fool, knave, what worse, for worse cannot deprave 

thee ; 
And were the devil now instantly to have thee. 
Thou canst not instance such a work to save thee, 

'iMongst all the ballads which thou dost compose. 
And what thou stylest thy poems, i!!as those. 
And void of rhyme and reason, thy worse prose 

Yet like a rude jack-sauce in poesy, 

With thoughts unblest, and hand unmannerly, 

Ravishing branches from Apollo's tree ; 

Thou mak'st a garland, for thy touch unfit. 

And boldly deck'stthy pig-brain'd sconce with it. 

As if it were the supreme head of wit : 

The blameless Muses blush ; who not allow 
That reverend order to each vulgar brow, 
Whose sinful touch profanes the holy bough. 

Hence, shallow prophet, and admire the strain 
Of thine own pen, or thy poor cope-mate's vein ; 
This piece too curious is for thy coarse braiu. 

Here wit, more fortunate, is join'd with art» 
And that most secret fienzy bears a part. 
Infused by nature in the poet's heart. 

Here may the puny wiis themselves direct 
Here ma}' the wisest find what to affect. 
And kings may learn their proper dialect. 



On then, dear friend, thy pen, thy name, shall spread, 
Ad'] shouldst thou write, while thou shalt not be 

r ead , 
The I\Iuberaust labour, when thy hand is dead. 

M'. B*. 



THE AUTHOR S rniEND TO THE READER, ON " 

BONDMAN." 

The printer's haste calls on ; I must not drive 

Rly tune past six, though I begin at live. 

One hour I have entire, and 'tis enough. 

Here are no gipsy j'gs, no drumming stuff. 

Dances, or otiier trumpery to delight. 

Or take, by common way, the common sight. 

Tlie author of this poem, as he dares 

To stand the austerest censures, so he cares 



• W. B.] 'Tis the opinion of Mr. Reed, llwil the Initials 
W. B. staiiil for William IJn.wii, llie aiuliur of " Briitamiia't 
Pastorals. 1 see no reason to tliiiik ollierwise, except that 
Ben Joiifon, whom W. IJ. seems to attack all through this 
poem, had greatly celehiated liiovvii's " I'astoials ;" but, 
indeed, Johson was so capricious in Ills teiujier, that we 
must not suppose him to be very constant in Ids friendships, 
Dames. 

This is a pretty early specimen of the judgment which 
Davies br.iiijrht to ihe eliiciiUtion of his work. Not aline, 
not a syllable of this little poi-m can, l.y any violence, be 
tortured into a reflectinn on Jonson, wlu)m he supposes to 
be " attacked all tlironuh it !" In \iili, when it was written, 
that ureal poet was at ilie heigia of iiis reputation, the envy, 
the admiration, and the terror, of his contemporaries : wonld 
a "young" writer presume to terni such a man "fool, 
knave," &:c.? would lie— but the enquiry is too absurd for 
further pursuit. 

I know not the motives which induced Mr. Ree<l to at- 
tribute these stanzas to \V. Brown; they may, 1 tliink, witb 
some probability, be referred to W. B.isse, a minor poet, 
whose tribute of praise is placeil at the lieail of tlie commen- 
datory verses on Shakspeare; or to W. Barksted, author of 
" Myrrha the Mother of Adonis," a poem, ItiOr. Baiksted 
was an actor, as appears Irom a list of " the principa. come- 
dians" who represented Jonson's " Silent Woman;" ali(l» 
therefore, not less likely than the author of '' Britannia • 
Pastorals," to say > that, 

" in the way of poetry, now a days. 

Of all that are call'd works the best are plays'* 

There is nt much to be said for these introductory poemf, 
wnicli must be vitvveil rather as pro^ifs of Irieii iship than 
of t.denls. In the former editions they are K>*'e" ^'^^ • 
decree of ignorance and iuaUeutioii tii.ly scandalous. 



COMMENDATORY VERSES ON RIASSINGER. 



As little what it is ; his own host way 

Is to he judge, and author of" his play ; 

It is his biowledge roakes him ilius secure ; 

Nor does he write to please, hut to endure. 

And. reader, if you iiave disburs'd a shilling, 

To see this worthy story, and are willing 

To have a large increase, if ruled by me, 

You may a merchant and a poet. be. 

'Tis graiited for your twelve-pence you did sit, 

And see, ami hear, and understand not yet. 

The author, in a Christian pity, iakes 

Care of your good, and prints it for your sakes. 

That such as wiii hut venture sixpence more, 

Way know what tliey but .-aw ami heard before ; 

'Twill not be money lost, if you can read 

(^1 here's all the doulitnow), but your gains exceed, 

If yi)u tan understand, and you are made 

Free of the freest and the noblest trade ; 

.1ri(i in the way of poetry, now-a-days. 

Of all that are call'd works the best are plays. 

W. B. 

TO MY HONOURED FRIEND, MASTER PHILIP M.\S- 
SINCER, UPON HIS " KENtOADO." 

Dabblers in poetry, that only can 
Court this weak lady, or that gentleman, 
V\ itli some loose wit in rhyme ; 
Others tliat friglit the time 
into belief, with mighty words that tear 
A passage through the ear; 
Or nicer men, 
Tliat through a perspective will see a play. 
And use it the wrong way 
(Not wortb thy pen). 
Though all their pride exalt them, cannot be 
Competent judges of thy lines or thee. 

I must confess I have no public name 
To rescue judgment, no poetic flame 
To dress tliy Muse wiih praise. 
And Phoebus bis own bays ; 
Yet I commend this poem, and dare tell 
'Ihe world I liked it well ; 
And if there be 
A tribe who in their wisdoms dare accuse 
This oil'--] I ring of thy Muse, 
Let them agree 
Conspire one comedy, and they will say, 
'Tis easier to commend tlian make a play. 

Jawes Shirley*. 

to ills worthy friend, master philip massingeu, on 

HIS PLAY call'd THE " IlENEGADO." 

The bosom of a friend cannot breath forth 

A flattering plirase to speak the noble worth 

Of him that hath lodged in his honest breast 

So large a title : 1, among tlie rest 

That honour thee, do only seem to j>raise, 

Wanting the flowers of art to deck that bays 

Merit has crown'd thy temples with. Knov, 

friend. 
Though there are some who merely do commend 

• Jaues Shirley.] A wtll-knoHn <lr;tmatic writer. 
His works, wliicli aie very Vdhiiniiiuns, liavt never been 
Cdlkcleil in aii iinitoiiii tdiiinn, ihoiigli liij;lily (kservinj; of 
It. He assi.-te<l Kleitlier in in:iny of liis pLiys; .ind smne, 
jay Ills biogr.iplicrs, ihoiii;lu liiiii tqiwl lo iliat great pott. 
He itied in Itiii'j. ( lliey «trc alterwaiiU collected and 
lublidhed in Vols., by Air. (.iiflord liiintelf. 



To live i' the world's opinion such as can 

Censure with ju<lgn)eni. no such pit-ce of man 

•Makes up my Sjiirit ; "hern ilesert does live. 

There will 1 plant my wonder, and there i;ive 

I'Nly best eiultavi urs to huikl up his story 

'I'liat truly merits. 1 did ever glory 

To heboid virtue rich ; though cruel Fate 

In scnriiful malice does heai low their slate 

'Jliat best deceive ; when others that but know 

Only to scribble, and no more, oft '^row 

Great in tbeir favour.- thai wouhl seem to be 

Patrons ol w it, and niode.-^t poesy ; 

Yet, with \our abler Irieiids, let me say this. 

Many may strive to e<|ual you, but miss 

Of your tiiir scojie ; ibis work of yours men may 

Throw in the face of envy, and then say 

I'o those, that are in great men's thoughts moro 

blest, 
Imitate this, and call that work your best. 
Yet wise men, in this, and too often err. 
When they their love betore the work prefer. 
If 1 should say more, some may blame me for't. 
Seeing jour merits speak you, not report. 

Da.siel Lakvn. 



TO HIS DEAR FUINED THE AUTHOR, ON THE " ROMAN 

ALTOU." 

I AM no groat admirer of the plays. 

Poets, or actors, tlmt are now-a-oays ; 

Yet, in this work of i bine, metbinks, I see 

SufKcienl reason lor idolatry. 

Each line tliou hast taught Csesar is as high 

As he could s]]eak, when groveliiig flattery. 

And his own pride (forgetting heaven's rod) 

By his edicts styled himself great Lord and God. 

By thee, again, the laurel crowns his head. 

And, tbus revived, who can affirm him dead? 

Such ])ower lies in this lofty strain as can 

Give swords and legions to Domitian : 

And when thy Pans plead.-, in the defenco 

Of actors, every -grace and excellence 

Of argument for that subject are by thee 

Contracted inn sweet eiiitome. 

Nor do iby women the tired hearers vex 

With language no way proper to their sex. 

.lust like a cunning painter thou let's fall 

Copies more fair than tbe original. 

I'll add but this : Iroin all tbe modern plays 

Ihe stage bath lately born, this wins the bays; 

And if It come to trial, boldly look 

To carry it clear, thy witness being thy book. 

T. J* 



IN PHILLIPI MASSINGERI POETjE ELEGANTISS ACTOREM 
BOMANUM TVPIS EXCUbUM. 

AiKai;iKov. 

EccE Philippinee celebrata Tragoedia Musas, 
iiuam Koseus Britonum Rosciust eg;it, adest. 



• T. J.] Coxetcr gives tliese initials to .Sir Thomas Jay, 
or Jeay, to whom the play is dedicated: lie is, probablv 
light. Sir Tlioinas, who was "no great admirer" of the 
nl,i>aof his d.i)s, when Joiison, Shirley, Ford, &c. were 
in full vigour, would not, 1 sii.-pect, be altogether enrap- 
tured if he could wilne^» those ot ours! 

t Jio.<:cit:s.] 'I'liis was Joseph Taylor, whose name occarf 
in a subse'iuent page. 



COMMENDATORY VERSES ON MASSINGER, 



Semper frotide anibo vireant Parnasside, semper 

Liber ab invidia* dentibus esto, liber. 
Crfbra ]>apviivori spernas iiicendia pa?ti, 

Thus, vffinum expositi tegiiiina suta libri: 
^et nietuas raucos, i\Jomoruiii sibilii.rhoncos, 

'lain banlus nebulo si lainen ulius erit. 
Nam toties festis. actum, placuisse tlieatris 

Quod litjuet, hcc, cusum. crede, placebit, opus. 

Tho. Goff*. 

to his dksenvinc fhiknp, mr. phiup massinger, 
upon ims tuafiedy " hie iioman actor." 

Paiiis, llie best of actors in Ijis age, 

Acts vet, ;ind speaks upon our Roman stage 

Sucli lines by tliee as do not derogate 

From Rome's pioud lieigbis, and her then learned 

state. 
Nor jrreat IJomitian's favour; nor the embraces 
Of a lair empress, iioriliose often graces 
Wliicli from til' applauding tbeatres were paid 
To his lirave action, nor liis aslies laid 
In the I'iaminian way. where people ^trow•'d 
His grave «itli floweis, and Miirtial's wit bestow'd 
A hisiing ei>it;iph ; not ail these same 
IJoadd so much renown to Paris' numo 
As this that thou jireseni'st his history 
So well to us : for which, in thanks, would he 
(If that his soul, as thought Pythagoras, 
Could into any of our actors |)ass) 
Life to these lines by action gladly give, 
Wljose pen so well has made his story live. 

Tho. Mat!. 

itpon mr. massinger bis " roman acto%." 
To write is grown so common' in our time, 
That every oi'e who tan but frame a rhyme. 
However monstrous gives himself that praise 
VViiicI) only he t-houhl claim that niav wear bays 
Bu: their ap|dause whose judgments appreliend 
The weight and truth of wlmt they dare commend, 
In this hesotted age, friend, 'tisthv glory 
'J'hat here thou hast outdone the Roman story. 
Domitian's pride : his wife's lust unabated 
In death; with Paris merely were related 
Without a soul, until thy abler pen 
Spoke iliem, and made tliem »peiik, nay, act again 
In such a height, that here to know their deeds, 
He may become an actor that but reads 

John Ford}. 

UPON MP.. MASSINGKr's "ROMAN ACTOR," 

Long'st thou to see proud Cfesar set in state, 
His morning greatness, <'r his evening fate, 
With admiration b^-re behold him fall, 
And yet ouilive his tni-jic funeral : 
For 'tis a question wbjther (Jajsar's glory 
Rose to its height before or in this story ; 



♦ Tho. Goff.] Goff was a man of considerable learning 
gnd lii^lily c. Itbriiltd tor his or.ituricrtl iitiHers, vvhicli lie 
turaerfto the best of piirpoMS, in tlie serxice of ihc cliiinli. 
He al.-o wrote srveral |ilii>!'; but iIum- <Io no lioimnr to his 
memory, btiii^ lull of llie iiio-l ridiciilons b aiib^ist. 

i Tho. May I J\Iay ir.tii-l.iu<l iMcan into l-n>;li>h verse, 
and was )( caiiilid^ie for the i.thce ol I'.iel I.Hiiie.it .viUi Sir 
Williaiiijt I),iv. nam. lie wrote si vrr^.! pl.iys; liis L^tin 
" S(ip|il( ment tu Lucan" is much adiniieil by the learned. 
Davi.hs. 

t JoN.N Ford.] Ford was a very f;oi.d 
eleven plijs ipf his wrilini;, iioiir <if v 
merit. Tlie writers of his time opposed li 
cess to Juiisou. 



poet. We have 
liieh are wiijioiii 



Or whether Paris, in Domitian's favour, 
VVere more exalted that in this thy labour. 
Each line speaks him an emperor, every pbrase 
Crowns thy deserving temjiles with the bays; 
So that reciprocally botli agree, 
Thouliy'st in him, and be survives in thee. 

Robert Harvey. 



TO HIS LONG-KNOWN AND LOVED FRir.ND, MR. PHILIP 
MASSINGER, UPON HIS " ROJIAN ACTOR." 

If that my lines, being placed before thy book, 
Could make it sell, or alter but a look 
Of some sour censurer, who's a|it to say. 
No one in tliese times can produce a |iUiv 
Worthy his reading, since of late, 'tis true. 
The old Mccepted are more than the new : 
Or, could I on some.spot o'the court work so. 
To make him s[ieak no more ihan he doth know; 
Not borrowing from his flatf'ring fiatter'd friend 
What to dispraise, or wherelore to commend ; 
Then, gentle friend, I should not blush to be 
Raiik'd 'mongst those worthy ones which here I see 
Ushering this work ; but why I write to thee 
Is, to profess our love's antiquity. 
Which to this tiagedy must give my test. 
Thou bast made many good, but this thy best. 

Joseph Tayi.op.. 



TO. MR. PHILIP MASSINGFB, MY MUCH- ESTEEM D FIIIEND, 
ON HIS " GREAI DUKE OF FLORENCE.'' 

Enjoy thy laurel ! 'tis a noble choice. 

Not by ihe suffrages of voice 
Procured, but by a conquest so achieved, 

As that thou hast at full relieved 
I Almost neglected poetry, whose bays, 

Sullied by chihiis!) thirst of praise, 
Wither'd iii'o a dullness of(les]iair. 

Had not thy later labour (heir 
Unto a former iiulu-lrv) made known 

This work, which thou m^iyst call thine own, 
So rich in worth, that tli' ignorant may grudge 
To find true virtue is become their judge. 

Geohce Donne. 



TO THE deserving MEMORY OF THIS WORTHY WOHt 
(••THE GREAT DUKE OF FLOftENCE"; AND THE AU- 
THOR, MR. PIIII.IP MASSINCtR. 

Action gives many poems right to live . 

This piece gave lile to action ; and will give 

For slate and lantiuage, in each change of age, 

To time delight, and honour to the stage. 

Should late prescription fail which fames that seat 

This pen mi<;ht style the Duke of Florence Great. 

Let many write, let much be printed, read 

And ceiisur'd ; toys no sooner hatch'd than dead. 

Here, without blu.-h to truth of commendation. 

Is proved, how art hath outgone imitation. 

John Fono. 



TO MY WORTHY FKIEND, THE AUTHOR, UPON IIISTRAOI- 
COMEDY "THE MAID OF HONOUR." 

Was not thy Emperor enough before 
For ih"" to give, ihiit ihoii dost give us more. 
I would bg- just, hut ciiiinot : ihat I know 
1 did not slander, this 1 fear 1 do. 



COM MEN'DATORY VERSES ON MASSINCtKR. 



But panlon me, if 1 offend ; thy ■ 'e 
Let equal poeis i)r.iisp, wlule 1 :i(li..ire. 
If any .-av ihiil 1 enoU!;h li;ive writ. 
They are thy foes, ami envy at thy wit. 
Believe not iheiii, nor nie ; they Unow thy lines 
Deserve apphuise, hut speak against their minds. 
I, out of jusiife, would commend tliy pli'V, 
But (fiieud forgive me) 'lis iihovemv way. 
One word, and 1 h;u'e done (and trom mv heart 
Would 1 could speak the whole truth, not tiie part 
Because 'tis thine), it henceforili will he said, 
Not the AJaid of Honour, hut the llonour'd Maid. 

AsrON COCKAINE*. 



TO HIS WOtlTHY FIIIEND, MH. PHILIP MASSINGER. UPON 
HIS TRAOI-CO.MEDY, SIYLEU ." HIE PICIUHe" 

Methinks T hear some busy critic say. 

Who's this tliat singly ushers in this |)lay ? 

*Tis biddness, I coiiless, and yet perchance 

It mav he construed love, not arrogance. 

I do not here iijion this leaf intrude. 

By praising- one to wrong a multitude. 

Nor do I think th.it all are tied to be 

(Forced by my vote) in the same creed with me. 

Each man haih liberty to judge ; free will. 

At his own j)!ensure to speak good or ill. 

But yet vour Muse already's known so well 

Her worth will hardls' find an intidel. 

Here she hath diawn a picture v.-hich shall lie 

Siife for all iuuire times to practice by ; 

Wliaie'er shall follow are but copies, some 

Preceding works were tyjies of this lo come. 

'Tis your own lively image, and sets fonh, 

When we are dost, the heiiuiy of your worth. 

He that shall duly read, and not advance 

Aught that is here, betravs his ignorance: 

Yet whosoe'er beyond desert commends. 

Errs more by much than he that reprehends; 

For praise misplaced, and honour set upon 

A worthless subject, is detraction. 

I cannot sin so here, urdess 1 went 

About to stvle you only ex( ellent. 

Ap<jllo'3 gilts are not confined alone 

To your disjiose, he hath more heirs than one, 

And such as do derive from his blest hand 

A large inheriiance in the j)oets' land. 

As well as you ; nor are you, 1 assure 

Myself, so envious, but you can eniiure 

To hear their praise, whose worth long since was 

known. 
And justly too preferr'd before your own, 
I know you'd take it for an injury, 
(And 'tis a ws-ll-becoming modesty). 
To be parallel'd with Beaumont, or to bear 
Your name by some loo partial friend writ near 
Unequall'd Jonson ; being men whose fire 
At distance, and with reverence, you admire. 
Do so, and you shall find vour gain will be 
Much more, by yielding them priority, 
Than with a certainty of loss, to hold 
A foolish competition : 'tis too bold 
A task, and to be shunn'd : nor shall my praise, 
VVith too much weight, ruin what it would raise. 

Thomas Jay. 



MASSIN'tir R 
tMPEIlOIUOf 



* Asioit CocsAiNE.] See the Introduction pattim. 



J 

TO MY WORTHY EIIUNO, Mr. PIIIIIP 
UPON HIS rRAGl-COMLDy CAl.Llil) JIIE " 
TflK EAST." 

Suffer, my fiiend, these lines to have the grace, 

That they mav be a mole on \'enns' face. 

There is no fault about thy book hut this, 

And it will show liow fair thv Emperor is, 

Thou more tluin poet I our Mercury, that art 

Apollo's messenger, and dost impart 

His best ex|)ressions to our ears, live long 

To purify the slighted Enj'.lish tongue, 

That both the nvniphs of 'lagus and of Po 

Mav not henceforth despise our language so. 

Nor could they do it, if they e'er had seen 

The matchless features of the F-iiry Queen ; 

I?ea(l Jonson, Sh.ikspeare, lieaumont, Fletcher, o? 

Thy neat-limned pieces, .-kilful Massinger. 

Thou known, all the Castilians must confess 

Veuo de Carpio thy foil, and bless 

His language can translate thee, and the fine 

[talian wits yield to this work of thine. 

Were old Pythagoras alive again. 

In thee he might find reason to maintain 

His paradox, that souls by transmigration 

Jn divers bodies make their habitation: 

And moie, than all poetic souls vet known. 

Are met in thee, contracted into one. 

This is a truth, not an applause : I am 

One that at furthest distance views thv flame, 

Yet may pronounce, that, were Anollo dead. 

In thee his poesv might all be read. 

Forbear thv iiiodestv : thy Ern^ieror's vein 

Shall live admired, when jioets shall complain 

It is a pattern of loo high a reach. 

And what gieat Phrebus might the Mu-^es teach. 

Let it live, therefore, and 1 dare he bold 

To say, it with the world shall not grow old. 

Am ON CocKAiXa. 

A FRIEND TO IHF, AUTHOR, AND WPI.T.-WISH En TC 
TUB READER, ON THE EMPEROR OF " THE EAST." 

Who with a liberal hand freely bestows 

His bounty on all comers, and yet knows 

No ebb, nor formal limits, but proceeds 

Continuing his hospiiable deeds, 

With daily welcome shall advance his n;ime 

Beyond tlie art of fla'iery ; with such fame 

May yours, dear friend, compare. Your muse haih 

been 
Most bountiful, and I liave often seen 
'J'lie willing seats receive such as have fed. 
And risen thankful ; yet were some misled 
By NICETY, when this lair banquet came 
(So I allude) their stomachs were to blame, 
JJec use that exie'lent, sharp, and |)oignant sauce 
Was wanting, they arose without due grace, 
Lo ! thus a second time he doth invite you : 
Be your own carvers, and it may delight you. 

John Clavkll. 



TO MY TRUE FRIEND AND KINSMAN, Plllt.IP AIASSiH- 
GER, ON HIS " EMPEROR OF THE EAST." 

I TAKE not upon trust, nor am I led ^ 

By an implicit faith : what 1 have read 
VVith an imi)artial censure 1 dare crown 
With a deserved applause, bowe'er cried dowa 
By such whose malice will not let them be 
Equal to any piece liinn'd forth by thee. 



COMMCNDArORY V^ERSES ON MASSINGER. 



Contemn tlieir poor detraction, and still write 
Poems like this, that can endure the light, 
And search of abler judgments. This will raise 
Thy name ; the others' scandal is thy praise. 
This, oft perused by grave wits, shall live long, 
Not die as soon as past the actor's tongue. 
The fate of sli<;hter toys ; and 1 must say, 
'Tis not enough to make a passing play 
In a true poet : works that should endure 
Alust have a genius "n them strong as pure, 
And such is thi'-e, iriend : nor shall time devour 
The well-form'd features of thy Emperor, 

William Singlbton. 



ro THE INCENrOUS AUTHOR MASTER PHILIP MAS- 
■ SINGER, ON HIS COMEUY CALLED " A KEW WAY TO 
PAY OLD DEB/i." 

'Tis a rare charity, and thou couldst not 

So proper to the time have found a plot : 

Yet whilst you teach to pay, you lend; the age 

We wretches live in, that to come tlie stage. 

The thronged audience that was tbitlier brought. 

Invited by you fame, and to be taught 

This lesson ; all are grown indebted more, 

And when they look for freedom^ rau in score. 

It was a cruel courtesy to call 

In hope of liberty, and then, inthrall. 

I'he nobles are your bondmen, gentry, and 

All besides those that did not understand. 

They were no men of credit, bankrupts borUj, 

Fit' to be trusted with no stock but scorn. 



You have more wisely credited to such, 
That tliough they cannot pay, can value much. 
I am your debtor too, but, to my shame, 
Repay you nothing back but your own fame. 

Henry Moody*. Miles. 

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR, ON " A NEW WAY lO 
PAY OLD DEBTS. 

You may remember how you chid me, when 

I rank'd you equal with those glorious men, 

Beaumont and Fletcher : if you love not praise. 

You must forbear the publishing of plays. 

The crafty mazes of the cunning plot. 

The polish'd phrase, the sweet expressions, got 

Neither by theft nor violence ; tlie conceit 

Fresh and unsullied ; all is of weight, 

Able to make the captive reader know 

I did but justice when I placed you so. 

A shamefaced blushing would, become the brow 

Of some weak virgin writer; we allow 

To you a kind of pride, and there where most 

Should blush at commendations, you should boast. 

If any think I flatter, let him look 

Off from my idle trifles on thy book. 

Thomas Jay. Miles 



• Henry Moody.1 Sir Henry Moody plays on the title 
of the piece. He has not much of ihc poet in liim, bnt ap 
pears to be a fiientily, good-natured man. A short poem oi 
liis is prefixed lo ihe folio edition of iJeaiimont and Fletcher. 
He was one of the yenllenien wlo had nonorary degree* 
conferred on them by Charles I., on hit return to Oxfora 
from the battle of Edi^ebiU. 



GLOSSARIAL INDEX 



AnnAM MFN, 356 

absuril, V9-4 

abase, 240 

acts (if jiiirliament, 497 

actuate,. Iii9 

aerie, 7 '2. 'JoO 

aflecis, 97 

alba reiriilis, 271 

tltar, l.")8 

a many, 1 1 

amorous i^07 

Ains!eril:iiii, 121 

AnaxiiretB. 16.i 

•ngel (l)itd), II 

ape, 1(1:") 

apostuta, 25, 29, 37, 38 

»;ip!e, 30;5 

Argiers, :i7 

arrear;iges. 264: 

as (as i(") 3)9 

astrol(>^;v, 386 

atlieisiii, 240 

atoijeineiit, 82 

Aventiiie, 173 

B. 

baVe-house, 166 
bandog:, 13 
banquet, 44, 384 
banquetins-liousp, 93 
Baptista Porta, 254 
bar, 157 
baratlirum, 363 
barley-break, 28 
bases, 260 

basket, SS7. 353, 379 
battalia. 260 
battle of Sabia, 472 
beadsmen, 383, 39l| 
bearing dislies, 374 
Beauraelle, 322 
becco, 282 
bees, 399 
beetle*. 73 
heg estates, 2881 
beglerbeg, 133 



BelIona,262 

helLs ring- backward, 62 

l)eiid the body, 72, 482 

beneath the salt, 378 

beso las manos, 213 

betake. 399 

bind \viili,412 

bird-bolts, 420 

biriliriglit, 99 

Hiscaii', 4.^9 

bisogninn, 241 

blacks, 31 9 

bla-pliemoiis, 210 

bloods, 3.")3 

blue gown, 405 

bradies, 54.349, 390 

brave, 'i42, 461 

braveries, 9', 155 

bravery, 5t, 261, 501 

15reda.'351 

lirennus, 339 

broacUide (to shew), 147 

brother in arms, 233 

buck, 24 

bug, 365 

bullion,321 

biiny'd, 354 

burial denied, 316 

burse, 389 

bury monev, 515 

but, 123, 306 

Butler (Dr.), 504. 



calver'd salmon, 237, 429 

camel, 322 

cancelier, 413 

canters, 349 

Caranz.i, 42, 422 

carcanet, 400, 439 

caroch, 123, 248 

carouse, 62 

carpet knights, 235 

caster, 397 

casting, 278 

cast suit, 275 

cater, 5b5 



cautelus, 101 
cavallery, 234 
censtire, 116, 221 
ceruse, 3'.'6 
chamber, 1 17 
chapel fall, 113 
chapiiies, 123 
Charles the robber, 4''.b 
charms on rubies, 207 
cheese-trenchers, 502. 
chiaus, 135 
chine evil, 274 
choice and richest, 126 
chreokopia, 496 
chufls, 7.3 
church hook, 496 
circ'ilar, 296 
civil, 144, .S81 
clap-ilisii. 154 
clenim'd, !S2 
close breeches. 331 
clubs, 125, 380 
coals, .■i07 

Colbran'd, S.'il 
colon, 35, 260 
come aloft, 105 

comfort, 471 

coming in, 74 

commence, 80, 293 

cominodiies, 102 

come ofl", .'J4 

commoner, 20 

comparison, 263 

comrogues, 395 

conceited, 101 

conclusions, 80 

conduit, 166 

coii()\jerinu Romans, 10,5 

consiirt, 2.")9, 3.'>1 

constable, to steal a, 226 

constant in, 4 

constantly, 220 

cooks' «lii>|)s, .358 

Corinth, 9.'5 

corsives, 192,300 

counsel, 74, lo9 

counterleit gold thread, .3ft4 



GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 



courtesy, 208 

courtsliij), 70. 77, 203, 217, 439 

courtesies, 372 

cow-eves. 51, 293 

crack, 3'1 

crinconies, 430 

crone. 3 1 

crosses, 1.30 

crowd. 52'i! 

crowns o' tlie sun, 33 

cry absurd ! 294 

cry aim, 96. 122 

Cupid and Death, 24 

culiion.'*, 419 

cunning, 417 

cuiiositv, 379 

Curious Impertinent, 329 

curiousneSs, 49, 151 

cypress, 431 

D. 

dagor, 332 

dallimice. 22 

dangler, 318, 404 

dead ])avs, 54 

death, t!ie, 66 

deck,42'i! 

decline, 227 

deduct, 506 

deep as( eiit, 480 

deer often, 301 

defeaiuie, 108 

defensible, 411 

degrees, 1H4 

Delphos. r*39 

demeans, ''■i:')3 

denying burial, 316 

depr.rt. 123 

dependencies, 226 

deserved me, 369 

Diana, G2 

discour>e and reason, 39 

disclose, '230 

dispartaiions, 131 

dissolve, 83, 186 

dista-;ie, 49, 123 

divert, £02 

doctor, go out, 80, 

doctrine, 226, :i;97 

drad,8 

drawer-on, 417 

dresser, cook's drum, 43, 422 

drum-wine, 889 

Dunkirk, 77 

E. 

elenchs, 294 

elysiuni, 8.5 

empiric, 303 

entradas, 433 

equal, 35 " 

equal mart, 477 

estridge, 234 

extend, 373. 404 

eyasses, 278 



faith, 17 
fame, 462 
far-fetcb'd, 419 



fault, 114, 510 

fautors. 1 17 

fellow. 2(^6 

festival exceedings, 278 

fercli in, 188 

fewierer, i;32, 278 

Fielding, 398 

fineness, 137 

FiorinilH, 199 

flie.-*, 11 

for, n 

forks, 213 

for-Tis, 46 

fore-rigbt, 147 

(brill, ;i08 

fre(|ueut, 174, 176 

fri])|iery, 379 

fur, 380 

G. 

gabel, 289 

galluit of the last edition, 379 

galley foist, 321 

galliard, 511 

garden-house, 93 

gauntlets, 47 

tiav, 320 

gazet, 237 

genionies, 174 

i;inKrack, 8.3 

(.iiovaniii, 199 

•;lid to. 11 

glorious, 37, 51,202 

go l)v, VJ6 

CJod be wi' you, 389 

gods to frien.-l, 174 

gold and store, 263, 397 

golden arrow, 186 

go less. 393, 484 

golU, 395 

go near, 129 

good, 394 

good fellows, 435 

good lord, 284 

good man, 317 

good mistress, 176 

goody wisdom, 321 

Gorgon, 471 

governor's place, 8 

(Jransoi). 317 

f.reat I5ritain,27 

green apion, 122 

Gresset, 470 

grim sir, 46 

grul) up forests, 419 

guard, 256 

H. 

hairy comet, 36 
band, 133 
hawking, 278 
beats, 97 

hecaioinbaion, 507 
Hecuba, 187 
bell, 378, 478 
high forehead, 34 
bole, 378 

horned moons, 130 
bo»e, (213 
humanity, 319 



bunt's up, 71 
hurncano, 58 



Jane of apes, 105 
jewel, 432, 457 
imp, 147, 195. 201 
impotence, 192, 444 
impotent, 45 
Indians, 402 
induction, 335 
ingles, 395 
interest, 63 
Iphis, 185 

K 

ka me Ici thee, 385 
kafexocbien, 420 
keeper of the door, 164 
knock on the dresser, 43 



Lachrynife, 226, 281 

lackeying, 4 

Lady Compton, 387 

lady of the lake, 356 

lanceprezado, 237 

lapwing's running, 5l6 

lavender, 273 

lavoha. 215, 390 

leaden dart. 7 

lea-uer, li;54, 326 

leege, 601 

Lent, 143 

I'eiivoy, 484,490 

leper, 1.54 

lets, 8, 57 

ligbllv, 106 

line, il 

little, 69 

lively grave, 319 

living tuneral, 110 

looking-glasses at the girdle, 378 

lost, H6 

loth to depart, 514 

lottery, 107 

lovers jierjuries, 208 

Lowin, John, 173 

Ludgate, 382 

Luke, 402 

lye abroad, 121 

RI. 
M. for master, 398 
magic picture, 255 
magnificent, 292 
Mahomet, 121 
Mnlelort,36 
Rlammon, 181 
mandrakes, 31 
mankind, 390 
marginal fingers, 329 
marmoset, 389 
Mars. 262 
Marseilles, 35, 151 
masters of dependencies, 236 
JMepliostophilus, 280 
mermaid, 514 
Rluierva, 194 
miniver cap, 400 



GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 



mirror of kniu'litliood, 414 
mist less. 4S, 1.S2 
mistress' colours, 116 
moppes, lOo 
Morat, .SI 7 
more, '26'i 
most an cue), 449 
music. O.J.J 
muiiic-niaater, 333 

N. 
Nancv. 317 
never-f;illini;, 288 
Nell of Greece, 513 
nii;srl« 310 
ni-iiiinpale, 202 
niyht-viiil, 393 
nimiiiing', '134 
no ciinniiip: quean, 92 
north passage, 388 
Novall, 3.-50 
number Ins years, 178 

October, 98 
oil of aiii^els, 76 
oil of talc, 396. 
Olympus, 367 
Ovid, 4M 
outcry 382 
owe, 99 
owes, 7, 128 

P. 

pacVing 212 
padder, 3.^6 
palo-spirited, 356 
Pandarus, 421 
paned lio.se, 213, .501 
pantofle, sworn to, 46 
parallel. 81, 230 
parle, 471 
parted, 12, 217 
parts, 2 J3 
pasl), K' 

passionately, 508 
passions, 496, 524 
pastry fortifications, 351 
Patch, 3(i4. 374 
Pa via. battle of, 63 
peat, 233 
peevish, 20 
peevi-,liness, 371 
perfected 49 
persever, 4, 250 
personate, 217, 254 
Pescara, 66 
physicians, 445 
piety, 476 
pine-tree, 70 
pip, 321 
place, 413, 492 
play my prize, 370 
plumed victory, 40 
plurisy, 51 

Plymouth cloak, 349, 397 
Ponialier, 328 
poor John, 121, 265 
porter's lodge, 76, 350 
ports, 4 



possessed. 209 

power of ih'ngs, 174 

praciire, 167, 223 

praciick, 29 1 

precisian, 319 

prest, 393 

pretty. 240 

prevent, .371, 498 

prevented, 126 

progress, 410 

provant sword, 226 

providence, 361 

pull dow n the side, 40, 216 

puppet, 70 

purer, 68 

purge, 265 

put on, 79, 314, 365, 403 

Q. 

quality, 176, 260, 333, 510 
quirpo, 321 
quited, 505 

R. 

rag, 326 

Ram Alley, 358 

remarkable, 41 

relic, 123 

remember, 111, 156, 429 

remora, 130 

re-refine, 289 

resolved, 72, 281 

rest on it, 95 

riches of catholic king, 483 

ride, 390 

rivo, 131 

roarer, 126 

Roman, 398 

roses, 379, 401 

rouse, 62, 102 

royal merchant, 129 

rubies, 207 

S. 
Sabla, battle of, 472 
sacer, 305 
sacratus, 305 
sacred badye, 141 
sacrifice, 320 
sail-stretch'd, 37 
sainted, 277 
St. Dennis, 154 
St. Martin's, 397 
sanzacke, 155 
salt, above the, 44 
scarabs, 73 
scenery, 381 
scholar, 254 
scirophorion, 507 
scotomy, 511 
sea-rats, 461 
Sedgely curse, 387 
seisactheia, 496 
servant, 48, 50, 152, 414 
shadows, 43 
shall be, is, 416 
shape, 117, 164. 184, 186, 299 
she-Dunkirk, 77 
sherifTs basket, 379 



shining shoes, 419 

Sir Giles Mompesson. 354 

skills not. 62. 170, 173 

sleep on either ear, 416 

small legs, -150 

softer neck. 50 

so. ho, birds, 278 

solve. 83 

sort. 20 

sovereign, .522 

sought to. 57 

sparred, 22 

ispartan boy, 426 

sphered, 22 

spit, 28 

spiral, 390 

spittle, 274, 327, 390 • 

spring, 48 

squire o'dames, 164, 287 

squire o' Troy, 421 

stale the jest.' 53, 487 

startup. 279 

slate, 93. 93, 222 

statute ag.iinst witcbes, 373 

staunch, 93 

steal a constable. 226 

steal courtesy from heaven, 208 

Sterne, 321 

stiletto, 271 

still an end, 449 

stones, 278 

story, 215 

strange, 92 

strongly, 302 

street fired. 1 18 

strengths, 139, 146, 301 

striker, 51 

suit, 391 

sworn servant, 181 

Swiss, 517 

synonyma, 287, 336 

T. 

table, 502 

taint, 164 

fake in, 374 

take me with you, 215, 241, 459 

take up. 203 

fail ships, 30 

tall trenchermen, 44 

tamin, 361 

tattered, 13 . 

'J'ermagant, 121 

theatre, 173 

Theocrine, 38 

thick-skinned, 82 

thing of things, 102 

third meal, 73 

thought for, 373 

Thrace, 262 

time, 180 

Timoleon, 94 

to-to, -153 

token, 349, 399 

toothful. 28 

toothpicks. 213 

tosses, 263 

touch, 484 

train, .53 

tramoutanea, 206 



XI.TI 



GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 



trillibubs, 511 

trimmed, 133 

try conclusions, 80 

tune, 180 

turn Turk, 145, 232 

twines, 411 



U. 



uncivil, 330 
unequal 308 
uses, 22«i, 297 



vail, 24t. 289 
varlets, 336 
Venice glasses, 125 
Virbius, 185 



voley, 270 
votes, 431 

W. 
waistcoateer, 390 
walk after supper, 44 
walk the round, 259, 423 
ward, !^,i6 
wards, 409 
wardship, 409 
watchmen, 497 
way of youih, 175, 45C 
weakness the last, 4(J2 
wear the caster, 397 
wear scarlet, S81 
well, 323 
wheel, 262 



where, (whereas) 152, 314, 349 

441,464 
while, 194, 499 
whiting-mop, 429 
whole field wide, 232, 392 
why, when ! 192 
witches, 373 
witness, 295 
wishes, as well as, 455 
wolf, 471 

work of grace, 137 
wreak, 122 

Y. 

yaws, 453 
yellow, 80 
yeoman fewterer, 232. 278 



A LIST 



MASSINGER'S PLAYS. 



Those marked thus * are in the vreaent Edition. 

1. The Forced Lndy, T. This was one of the pinvs destroyed by Mr, Warburton's servant*. 

2. The \(.1)Ip Choire, C. i lliitered on the Stationers' books, by H. Moseley, 

3. The Waruleriiiir Lovers C. j ^^^'l)t. 9. \6bj\ but not printed. These were among the 

4. Phile'izo and Hi|ipolita, T. C. I plays destroyod by Mr, Wai burton's servant. 

5. Antonio and Valliaf, C. ") F^ntered on the Stationers' books, by H. IMosely, June 29, 

6. 'I he Tyrant, r. J 1660, but not printed. 'J hese too were among the plays 

7. Fast and Welcome, C. ) destroyed by Mr. Warburton's servant. 

8. The Woman's Plot, C. Acted at court 1621. Destroyed by Mr. Warburton's servant. 

9. *The Old Law, C. Assisted by'Rowley aid Middleton, Quarto, 1656. 

10. *lhe Virgin-Martyr, T. Assisted by liecker. Acted by the servants of his Majesty's revels. Quarto, 

\6'ti ; Quarto, 1631 ; Quarto, 1661. 

11. "The Unnatural Combat, T. Acted at the Globe. Quarto, 1639. 

12. •The Di.ke of Milan, T. Acted at Bhuk-Frii.rs. Quarto, 1623 ; Quarto, 1638. 

13. 'The Bondman, T. C. Acted December 3, 16'i!3, at the Cockpit, Drury Lane. Quarto, 16'i4 ; 

Quarto, 1638. 

14. •The Renegado, T. C. Acted April 17, 1624, at the Cockpit, Drury Lane. Quarto, 16.jO. 

15. *T]ie Parliament of Love, C. Unfinished. Acted November 3, 1624, at the Cockpit, Drury 

Lane. 

16. The Spanish Viceroy, C. Acted in 1621. Entered on the Stationers' books, September 9. 1653, 

by 11. Moseley, but not printed, 'i his was one of the plays destroyed by Mr. Warburton's 
servant. 

17. 'The Roman Actor, T. Acted October 11. 1626, by the King's company. Quarto, 1629. 

18. The Judge. Acted June 6, 1627, by the King's company. This play is lost. 

19. * The Lireat Duke of Florence. Acted Julv 5, 1627, at ihe Phoenix, Drury Lane. Quarto, 1636. 

20. Tho Honour of Women. Acted May 6, 1628. This play is lost. 

21. *The Maid of Honour, T. Cj. Acted at the Phoenix, Drury Lane. Date of its first appearance 

uncertain. Quarto, 1632. 

22. 'The Picture, T. C. Acted June 3, 1629, at the Globe. Quarto, 1630. 

23. Minerva's Sacrifice, T. Acted November 3, 1629, by the King's company. Entered on the 

i-^tationers' books Sept. 9, 1633, but not printed. Tliis was one of the plays destroyed by Mr. 
Warburton's servant. 



♦ In his first edition, Mr. Giflford had entered aflertliis plav the Secretary, of which the title appears in the catalogue 
which fiiinijhid tlie materials for Poole's Parnassus Mr. Gilchrist liaviiig discovered among some old riil)hish in a 
village linrary, that the work referred to is a Iran laiioii of fainiiiar letters by iMons. La Serre, and that the Irauslator s 
name was John Massinsrer.it was omitted in tlie list funiiflifd fur the second edition. 

t 111 ihat most curioirs MS. Register discovered HI Dul-iicli College, and subjoined by Mr. Malone to his " Hisjorical 
Accouni uf the English Stige, is the following entry, " R. ^0 of June, 1693, at antnny and vallea 01. xxs. Od " If llm 
be the play entered by Mosely, Massingtr's claims cm only arise from his having revised and altered it; for he ir.iist ha' e 
been a nine oliild when it was first pro<Uiced. S>e ihe Iniioilintion, p. i j u ■ i 

♦ Mr. Maloue thinks this to be the play imniediaielj preceding it, with a new title. This is, however, extremely donbtlul. 



LIST OF MASf,VNGER'S PLATf* 



t4. •The Emperor of the East, T. C. Acted March 11, 1831, at Black Fnars. Quarto, 1632. 

25! Believe as you List, C. Acted May 7, 1631. Entered on the Stationers' books, September 9, 16.53, 

and a<'ai:i June 29, 1660, but not printed. This also was one of the plays destroyed by Mr 

Warburton's servant. 
Sb. The Italian Niirbtpiece, or The Unfortunate Piety, T. Acted June l3, 1631, by the King's conipan). 

This plav is lost. 
•27. • The Fatal Dowry, T. Assisted by Field. Acted by the Kind's company. Quarto, 1632. 

28. *A New Wav to I'av Old Debts, C. Acted at the Phoenix, Drury Lane. Quarto, 1633. 

29. •The City Madam, C. Acted May 2.5, 1632, by the King's company. Quarto, 16.59. 

30. *The Guardian, C. Acted October 31, 1633, by the Kino:'s- company. Octavo, 16.55. 

Si! The Tragedy of Oleander. Acted May 7, 163-K by the King's company. This play is lost. 

32. "A Very Woman, T. C. Acted June 6, 1634, by the King's company. Octavo, 1655. 

33. The Orator. Acted June 10, 1635, bv the King's comyiany. This play is lost. 

34.' *The Bashful Lover, T.C. Acted May 9, 1636, by the King's company. Octavo, 1655. 

35. The King and the Subject. Acted June 5, 1638, by the King's company. This play is lost. 

36. Alexius, or (he Chaste Lover.jl Acted September 25, 1639, by the King's company. This 

play is lost. 
S7. The Prisoner, or the Fair Anchoress of Pausilippo. Acted June 26, 1640, by the King's company 
This play is lost. 



• The title of this p)ay, Sir H. Herbert tells ns, was changed, Mr. Maloiie conjectures it was named "The Tyrant," one 
of W iiibinlcii's iinrurliiiiale coUerlion." I'robably, however, It was Mil)^equently found : as a MS. tragedy called '' Tb« 
Tyrant," was sold November, iri'.i, among the books of John W'ai brrtan, K;q.. Somerset Herald."— //%. Drama. 

i This [.lay mn.st have posses.-ed Hncommon nieiit, since it drew the Qm en (Heiiiiella Miiria) to Blaekiiiars. A rema'k- 
«bie event at that lime, \\lien onr Sovereigns were not accustomed to vi?it the [Jublic theatres. She hoiiouied it «illi her 
presence on ihe l.tth of May, fix da>s after its first appearance. Tlic ciicumstanee is recorded by the Master of ihe Kt vel» 

X Alexitu]. This i)lay is supposed' bj the editors 01 the '' Biograpliia Ur^matiia," to be the same as " B.ishlul Lover." 



THE 



yiRGIK MARTYR. 



TrtE VinciN-MAHTYn.] Ot this Tragedy, ■which appears to nave been very popular, there are three 
editions in quarto, 1C22, 1631, and 1661; the last of which is infinitely the worit. It is not posbnble to 
ascertain when it was first produced ; but as it is not mentioned among the dramatic pieces " read and 
allowed " by Sir H. Herbert, whose account commences with 1622, it was probably amongst the author's 
earliest efforts. In tlie composition of it he was assisted by Decker, a poet of sufficient reputation to 
provoke the hostility or the envy of Jonson, and the writer of several plays much esteemed by ms con- 
temporaries. 

In the first edition of this tragedy it is said to have been " divers times publicly acted with great applause 
by the servants of his Majesty's Revels." The plot of it, as Coxeter observes, is founded on the tentii and 
last general persecution of the Christians, which broke out in the nineteenth year of Dioclesian's reign, with 
a fury hardly to be expressed ; the Christians being everv wliere, witliout distinction of sex, age, or 
condition, dragged to execution, and subjectea to the most exquisite torments tliai rage, cruelty, and hatred 
could suggest. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



DlOCLESIAN, ) r ^ T> I 

MAx»nM,s.j^'"P<^'^*^^«"*' 
King of Pontus. 
King of Epire. ^ 

King of Macedon. 
Sai'rmii's, Governor of Caesarea. 
TiiEoiTiiLus, a zealous persecutor of the Christiant 
Semi'ronius, captain of Sapritius' guards, 
Antoninus, son to Sai'ritivs. 
M.Kcniyvi, frieiid to Antoninus. 
IIaupax, ait evil spirit, following Theophilus in the 
shape of a ucretary. 

SCENE, 



AsG^ho, a good spirit, serving DonoTiiEA in the habit ^ 

a page. 
Hincius, a ivhoremaster, ) ^ t-« 

SruNGius, a drunkard, J««'-^"""« «/ Douothea 
Priest of Jupiter. 
Britiih Slave. 

AnxEMiA, daughter to Dioclesian. 
Chrisi^eta , } '^''^'Shters to Theophilto. 
Dorothea, the Virgin-Martyr. 
Officers and Executioners. 

Ctesarea. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — The Governoh's Palace. 
Enter Theophilus and Harpax. 

rheoph. Come to Csesarea to-night ! 

Harp. Rlost true, sir. 

Theoph. The emperor in person ! 

Harp. Do I live ? 

Theoph. 'Tis wondrous strange ! The marches of 
great piinces, 
Llt4 to the motions of prodigious meteors, 
Art step by step observed ; and loud-tongued Fame 
Tho harbinger to prepare their entertainment : 
And, were it possible so great an army, 
Though cover'd with the night, could be so near, 
The governor cannot be so unfriended 
Among the many that attend his person. 
But, by scmp secret means, he should have notice 



Of Ca;sar*s purpose* ; — in this then excuse me. 
If I appear incredulous. 

Harp. At your pleasure. 

Theoph. Yet, when I call to mind you never fail'd 
In things more difficult, but have discover 'd [me. 
Deeds tliat were done thousand leagues distant from 

me. 
When neither woods, nor caves, nor secret vaults. 
No, nor the Power they serve, could keep these 

Christians 
Or from my reach or punishment, but thy magic 

• "/ C'wsar's p'lrjiose ;—in this then excuse me,] Before 
Mr. M. Masoa's e iiiioii, it stood: 

he should have notice 

Of Cccsar's purpose in this, 

meaning, perhaps, in this hasty and unexpected visit : I 
have not, however, altered the pointing. 



THE VIRGIN-IMARTYR. 



lor L 



Still laid them open ; I begin again 
To be as confident as heretofore. 
It is not possible thy powerful art 
Should meet a check, or fail. 
Enter a Priest with the Image of Jupiter, Causta 
and CniusTETA. 

Harp. Look on the X'estals,' - 
The holy pledges that the gods hare given you, 
Your chaste, fair daughters. Wer't not to upbraid 
A service to a master not unthankful, 
I could say these, in spite of your prevention, 
Seduced by an imagined faith, not reason, 
(Which is tlie strength of nature,) quite forsaking 
The Gentile gOds, had yielded up themselves 
To this new-found religion. Tliis I cross'd. 
Discover 'd their intentions, taught you to use, 
With gentle words and mild persuasions, 
The power and the authority of a father 
Set off with cruel threats ; and so reclaim'd them : 
And, whereas ihey with torments should have died, 
(Hell's furies to me, had they undergone it ! ) 

[Aside. 
They are now votaries in great Jupiter's temj)le. 
And, by iiis priest instructed, grown familiar 
With all the mysteries, nay, the most abstruse ones. 
Belonging to his deity. 

Theoph. 'Twas a benefit, 
For which I ever owe you. Hail, Jove's flamen ! 
Have these my daughiers reconciled themselves, 
Abandoning for ever the Christian way. 
To your opinion ! 

Priest. And are constant in* it. [ment, 

riiey teach their teacliers with their depih of judg- 
And are with arguments able to convert 
The enemies to our gods, and answer all 
They can object against us. 

theoph. Aiy dear (laughters ! [sect, 

Cal. We dare dispute against this new-sprung 
lu private or in public. 

Harp. IMy best lady. 
Perse vert in it. 

Chris. And what we maintain. 
We will seal with our bloods. 

'Harp. Brave resolution ! 
1 e'en grow fat to see my labours prosper. 

TLeopli. I young again. To your devotions. 

Harp. Do — 
My prayers be present with you. 

[E.iei(«t Priest and Daughters of Theophilus. 

Theoph. (J my Harpax ! 
Thou engine of my wishes, thou that steel'st 
My bloody resolutions ; thou that arni'st [sion ; 

My eyes 'gainst womanish tears and soft compas- 
Instructing me, without a sigh,' to look on 
Babes torn by violence from their mothers' breasts 
To feed the tire, and with them make one flame ; 
Old men, as beasts, in beasts' skins torn by dogs ; 
Virgins and matrons tire the executioners ; 
Yet I, unsatisfied, think their torments easy. 

Ha\p. And in that, j ust, not cruel. 



• Triest And are constant in it.'] So the first two edi- 
tions. The l.ist, whicli is very intorrcctly printed, reads (o 
it, and is follDwed by tlie modern editors. 

t Persever in it.] Hu lliis word was ancicnt'y written 
and pronounced : ihiis (lie kin^, in Hamlet : 

but to persever 

Jn obstinate cnndolement. 
Coxeter ad(>|its llio uniiioirk-iil reading of the third quarto, 
ferscverc in il, and is I'ollowerl by Mr. M. Mason, who how- 
ever, warns the reader to lay tlie accent on Ilie peniiltiniate. 



Theoph. Were all sceptres 
That grace the hands of kings, made into one. 
And offer'd me, all crowns laid at my feet, 
I would contemn them all,— tiius spit at them ; 
So I to ;dl posterities might be call'd 
The strongest champion of the Pagan gods. 
And rooter out of Christians. 

Harp. Oh, mine own, 
Mine own dear lord ! to further this great work, 
I ever live thy slave. 

Enter Sapritius and Sempronius. 

Theoph. No more — the governor. [doubled ; 

Sap. Keep the ports close*, and let the guards be 
Disarm the Christians, call it death in any 
To wear a sword, or in his house to have one. 

Semp. I shall be careful, sir. 

Sap. 'Twill well become you. 
Such as refuse to offer sacrifice 
To any of our gods, put to the torture. 
Grub up this growing mischief by the roots ; 
And know, uhen we are merciful to them, •• 

We to ourselves are cruel. 

Setnp. You pour oil 
On fire that burns already at the height ; 
I know the emperor's edict, and my charge, 
And they shall find no favour. 

Theoph. i\Iy good lord. 
This tare is timely for the entertainment 
Of our great master, who this night in person 
Comes here to thank you. 

Sup. Wlio ! the emperor ? [triumph, 

Harp. To clear your doubts, lie doth return is 
Kings lackeying f by his triumphant chariot ; 
And in this glorious victory, my lord. 
You have an ample share : for know, your son, 
The ne'er-enough commended Antoninus, 
So well hath flesh'd his maiden sword J, and died 
His snowy plumes so deep in enemies' blood. 
That, besides public grace beyond his hopes, 
There are tewards propounded. 

Sap. I would know 
No mean in thine, could this be true. 

Harp. My head 
Answer the forfeit. 

Sap. Of his victory 
There was some rumour ; but it was assured, 



* Sap. Keep the ports close,] This word, which is di- 
rectly truni tue Lain), is so trequently used by i^.assiugcr 
and the writeis ol his time, for tlie yatts of a town^ that it 
appears siiperlluons to produce any examples of it. I'o have 
noticed it once is suDicient. 

t Kinys lackey ins; by his triumphant chariot ;] Running 
by the side of ii lie lackiex, or loot-boys. So iu iViarston's 
Antonio and Mellida: 

" Oh tliat our power 
Could lackey or keep pace with our desire!" 

X So well hath Jiesh d, &c.] iMassingir was a great reader 
and admirer of Sliakspeare : he has here not only adopted 
his sentiment, but his words . 

" Come, brother John, full bravely hast Ihuaflesh'd 

7 hy Maiden sword" 

But Shakfpeare is in every one's head, or, at least, in every 
one's hand ; and I sliould therefore be constantly antici- 
pated, in such remarks as these. 

I will take this opportunity to say, that it is not my in- 
tention to encumber the pai^e nilU tracing every phrase of 
Massinger to its imaginary sourcf. This is a compliment 
which sliould only be paid to great and miglity geniuse-.; 
with ii spect to those of a second or third order, it is some 
what worsi; than superlluoiis to hunt them through iiinu- 
meralik- works of all di-scriptions, for t. e purpose of disco 
verin^ wluiice every common epithet, or tiivial expression 
Was taken. 



Soon I.] 



THE VIRGIN ^lARTYR. 



The army pass'd a full day's journey higher, 
Into the country. 

Harp. It "as so determined ; 
But, for the furtlier honour of your son. 
And to observe tlie government of tlie city, 
And witli what rigour, or remiss indulgence. 
The Christians are pursued, he makes his stay here : 

l^Trumpets. 
For proof, his trumpets speak his near arrival. 

Sap. Haste, good Sempronius, draw up our guards, 
And with all ceremonious pomp receive 
The con(|uering army. Let our garrison speak 
Their welcome in loud shouts, the city shew 
Her state and wealth. 

Semp. I'm gene. [E.ri(. 

Sap. O, I am ravish 'd 
With this great honour ! cherish, good Theophilus, 
This knowing- scholar ; send [for] your fair daugh- 
I will present them to the emperor, [ters*; 

And in their sweet conversion, as a mirror. 
Express your zeal and duty. 

Theoph. Fetch them, good Harpax. 

[Eai't Harpax. 

A guard brought in bif Sesipronu-s, snidiers leading 
in three kings hound ; Antoninus and Macrini's 
carriiing the Emperor's eagles ; Dioclfsian with 
a gilt laurel on his head, leading in Artemia : 
Sapritius kisses the Emperor's hand, then em- 
braces his Son ; Harpax brings in Cai.ista and 
Christeta. Loud shouts. 

Diode. So : at all parts I find Cwsarea 
Completely govern'd ; the licentious soldier t 
Confined in modest limits, and tlie people 
Taught to obey, and, not compell'd with rigour : 
The ancient Roiiian discipline revived, [her 

Which raised Rome to her greatness, and proclaim'd 
The glorious mistress of the conquer'd world ; 
But, above all, the service of the gods 
So zealously observed, that, good Sapritius, 
In words to thank you for your care and dtty, 
Were much unworthy Dioclesian's honour, 
Or his magnificence to his loyal servants. — 
But I shall find a time with noble titles 
To recompense your merits. 

Sap. jMightiest Cresar, 
% Whose power upon this globe of earth is equal 
To Jove's in heaven ; whose victorious triumphs 
On proud rebellious kings that stir against it. 
Are perfect figures of his immortal trophies 
Won in the Giants' war ; whose conn-ierin^ sword. 
Guided -by his strong arm, as dsaJ!"r zrlli 
As did his thunder ! all that I have done. 
Or, if my strength were centupled, could do. 
Comes short of what my loyalty must challenge. 

• send [fur] your fair daityhterg ,] All tlie copies 

read, — send your fair dauyhtcrs : for, wliicli I have inserted 
seems iiecessaij l-j coinplLie llie sense as well as (he metre ; 
as Harpax is ininediilely 'lispatclied to biing them. 

t the licentious suldiei] Mr. M. Mason reads tot- 

diers, the old and line lectum is soldier. The stage direction 
in this place is very stiaiiaely giv/n by the former editors. 
I may here observe, that [ do not mean lo notice every 
lli)^t concctioi) : already several errors have been silently 
reformed by the assistance of the fust quarto : without 
reckoning tlie remova; of snch barbarous contractions as 
conq'ring, ail'mant, ranc'rous, i<;n'rance, rhet'iick, &c. with 
which the modern editions arc everywlitre defoinied with- 
out authority or reason. 

t Whose power, Sc] A translation of the well-known 
line : , 

Divisum imperium 7um Jove Ca-sar habet. 



Hut, if in any thing I Iiave deserved 

Great Ca>sar's smile, 'tis in mv hun.ble care 

Still to preserve tlie honour of these gods, 

'J'hiit make him what he is : my zeal to them, 

I ever have express'd in my fell ha^e 

Against the Christian sect that, with one blow, 

(Ascribing all things to an unknown power,) 

Would strike down all their temples, and allowt 

Nor sacrifice nor altars. [them* 

Diode. Thou, in this, 
V\ alk'st hand in hand with me : my will and power 
Shall not ahine confirm, but honour all 
'1 hat are in this. most forward. 

Sap. Sacred Ca'sar, 
If your imperial majesty stand pleased 
To sliower your favours upon such as are 
The boldest champions of our religion ; 
Look on this reverend man, to whom the power 
Of searching out, atid punishing such de.in()uents. 
Was by your choice committtd; and, for ))roof, 
He harli deserved the grace imjiosed upon hiin, 
And with a fair and even hand jiroceedtd. 
Partial to none, not to himself; or those 
Of etjual nearness to himself; behold 
t I tiis pair of virgins. 

Diode. \\ hat are these 1 

Sap. His daughters. [ones, 

Artein. i\ow by your sacred fortune, they are faif 
Excel ding fair ones : would 'twere in my power 
To make them mine ! 

Theoph. They are the gods', great lady. 
They »vere most happy in your service else: 
On these when they fell from their failier's faith, 
I used a judge's power, entreaties failing 
(Thev being seduced) to win them to adore 
1 he holy powers we wor>hip ; I put on 
The scarlet robe of bold authority. 
And as they had been strangers to my blood, 
Presented them, in the most horrid iorm, 
All kind of tortures : ]iart of which they suffer 'd 
\\ itli Roman constancy. 

Artem. And could you endure, 
Peing a father, to behold their limbs 
Extended on the rack ? • 

Theoph. 1 did ; but must 
Confess there was a strange contention in me, 
Between the impartial office of a judge, 
And j)ity of a father ; to help justice 
Religion stept in, under which odds 
Compassion fell: — yet still 1 was a father; 
For e'en then, wlien the flinty hangman's whips 
Were worn with stripes sjient on their tender limbs 
I kneel'd and wejit, and begged them, though they 
Be cruel to themselves they would ti'ke jiity [would 
On my grey hairs : now note a sudden change, 
\Vhich 1 with joy remember; those whom torture, 
Nor fear of death could terrify, were o'eicome 
By seeing of my sufferings; and so won, 
lieturning to the faith that they were born in, 
I gave them to the gods.: and be assureil, 
1 that used justice with a rigorous liand. 
Upon such beauteous virgins, and mine own, 
W ill use no favour, where the cause commands me. 



• and allows l/nin 

Nor sacrifce, nor altars.] The luodrin idiloi.-- have, 

and allow iheiii 

No sarrljice nor allars : 
which is the conript iciiliiig of the f|iiano, Iliiil. 

t ilus pair of vin/ins] Cliain;id, I kmi" not why, by 
the modern editors, into — These j;air of viryiit*. 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act L 



To any other ; but, as rocks, be deaf 
To all entreaties. 

Uiocle. Thou deserv'st thy place ; 
Still hold it, and with honour. Things thus order'd 
Touching the gods ; 'tis lawful to descend 
To human cares, and exercise that power 
Heaven has conferr'd upon me ; — which that you, 
Rebels and traitors to the power of Rome, 
Should not with all extremities undergo. 
What can you urge to qualify your crimes, 
Or mitigate my anger? 

*A'. of Epire. We are now 
Slaves to tliy power, that yesterday were kings, 
And had command o'er others ; we confess 
Our grandsires paid yours tribute, yet left us. 
As their forefathers had, desire of freedom. 
And, if you Romans hold it glorious honour 
Not only to defend what is your own. 
Rut to enlarge your empire, (though our fortune 
Denies that happiness,) who can accuse 
'I'he famish'd mouth if it attempt to feed ? 
Or such, whose fetters eat into their freedoms, 
If they desire to shake them oil"? 

A', of Pontus. We stand 
The last examples, to prove how uncertain 
All human happiness is ; and are pnpared 
To endure the worst. 

A', of Macedon. That spoke, which now is highest 
In fortune's wheel, must when she turns it next, 
Decline as low as we are. This considor'd, 
Taught the /Egyptian Hercules, Sesostris, 
That had his chariot drawn by captive kings. 
To free them from that slavery ; — but to hope 
Such mercy from a Roman, where mere madness : 
We are familiar with what cruelty 
Rome, since her infant greatness, ever used 
Sucii as she triumph'd over ; age nor sex 
Exempted from her tyranny : scepter'd princes 
Kept in her common dungeons, and their children, 
In scorn train'd up in base mechanic arts, 
for public bondmen. In the catalogue 
Of those unfortunate men, we expect to have 
Our names remember'd. 

Diocle. In all growing empires, 
Even cruelty is useful ; some must suffer, 
And be set up examples to strike terror 
111 otiiers, tliough far oft": but when a state 
Is raised to her perfection, and her bases 
Too firm to shrink, or yield, we may use mercy, 
And do't with safety :t but to whom'! not cowards, 
Or such whose baseness shames the conqueror, 



• K. of Epire. JVe are now 
Stavea to thy power, &c.] I have observed several imi- 
tations of W;issiin;LT in tlie dramas of Mason : tliere is, for 
iDstanii', a striking similarity between tliis spirited speecli, 
and tlic indii;nant exclamation of the brave but nnfortu- 
nate Caract-icus : 

• — — " Soldier, I hid arms. 

Had neisjliini; steeds to wliirl my iron cars, 
Had wealth, dominions: Dost lliou wonder, Roman, 
I fought to save them ? Wliat it Ca!sar aims 
To lord it universal o'er the world, 
Sh.dl the wuilil tamely crouch to Caesar's footstool I" 
I And dot with safety .] Tliis is admirably expressed ; 
the maxim however, though just, is of the most itangerous 
nature, for wliat ambitious chief will ever allow the state to 
be " raised to her perfection," or that the lime for using 
" mercy with safety" is arrived t even Uioclesian has his 
exceptions,— strong ones tool for Rome was old enough in 
bis time. There is an allusion to Virgil, in the opening of 
this spt ech : 

ties dura, et noxntoji regni me talia cogunt 
Aloliri, 4c 



And robs him of his victory, as weak Perseus 

Did great .4i^milius.* Know, therefore, kings 

Of Epire, Pontus, and of Macedon, 

Tliat I with courtesy can use my prisoners. 

As well a-i make them mine by force, provided 

That they are noble enemies : such I found you, 

Before I made you mine ; and, since you were so. 

You have not lost the courages of princes 

Although the fortune. Had you born yourselves 

Dejectedly, and base, no slavery 

Had been too easy for you : but such is 

The |)ower of noble valour, that we love it 

Even in our enemies, and taken with it. 

Desire to make them friends, as I will you. 

K. of Epire. Mock us not, Caesar. 

Diocle. I5y the gods, I do not. 
Unloose theirbonds ; - 1 now as friends embrace you ; 
Give tliem their crowns again. 

K. of Pontus. We are twice o'ercome ; 
By courage and by courtesy. 

A', of Macedon. But this latter. 
Shall teacli us to live ever faithful vassals 
To Dioclesian, and the power of Home. 

A'. ()/' Epire. All kingdoms fall before her • 

A. of Pontus. And all kings 
Contend to honour Ca'sar ! 

Diocle. I believe 
Your tongues are the true trumpets of your hearts, 
And in it I most happy. Queen of fate, 
lm])erious fortune ! mix some light disaster 
With my so many joys, to season tliem, 
And give them sweeter relish : I'm girt round 
With true felicity ; faitliful subjects here. 
Here bold commanders, here with new-made friends; 
But, what's the crown of all, in thee, Artemia, 
My only child, whose love to me and duty, 
Strive to exceed each other ! 

Artem. I make ])avnient 
But of a debt, which I stand bound to tender 
As a daughter and a .subject. 

Diocle. -Which requires yet 
A retributii)n from me, Artemia, 
Tied by a father's care, how to bestow 
A jewel, of all things to me most precious. 
Nor will 1 therefore longer keep thee from 
The chief joys of creation, marriage rites ; [of, 

Which that thou may'st with greater jjleasures taste 
Thou shalt not like with mine eses, but thine own. 
Among these kings, forgetting they were captives 
Or those, remembering not they are my subjects. 
Make choice of any ; by Jove's dreadful thunder, 
My will shall rank with thine. 

Artem. It is a bounty 
The daughters of grent princes seldom meet with j 
For they, to make up breaches in tlie state, 
Or for some other public ends, are forced 
To match where they affect not.f INIay my Ufe 
Deserve this favour ! 

Diocle. Speak ; I long to know 
The man thou wilt make happy. 



* as weak Persetis 

Did yreat JEmilius.] It i^ said that Perseus sent todesinf' 
Panlus T^milius no to exhibit him as a spectarlc to the 
Romans, and to spare him the indignity of biini; leil in 
triumph. jEniilius replied cohlly : The favour he ask* of 
me is in his own power ; he can procure it for hvnaelji'. 

COXETER. 

i 'To match where they affect not.'i This does better for 
modern than Roman pr.iclice; and indeed the author wa# 
thinking more of Hamlet than Dioclesian, iu this part at 
the dialogue. 



Scene I.] 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR, 



Artem. If that titles, ^ 

Or the adcred name of Queen could take me, 
Here would I fix mine eves, and look no further; 
But these are baits to take a mean-born lady, 
Not lier, that boldly may call Civsar father; 
In that 1 can biino^ honour unto any. 
But from no king that live^ receive addition: 
To raise desert and virtue by my fortune, 
1"houoh in a low estate, were greater glory 
Than to mix greatness with a prince that owes* 
No worth but that name only. 

Dincle. 1 commend thee, 
'Tis like mvself. 

Artem. If then, of men beneath me. 
My choice is to be made, where shall I seek, 
But among those that best deserve from vou ? 
That have served you most faithfully ; that in dangers 
Have stood next to you ; that have interposed 
Their breasts as shields of proof, to dull the swordsf 
Aiin'd iit your bosom ; that have spent their blood 
To crown your brows with laurel ? 

Macr. L'vtherea, 
Great Queen of Love, be now propitious to me ! 

Harp, (fo •S'«/».) Now mark what I foretold. 

Anton. Her eye's on me. 
Fair Venus' son, draw forth a leaden dart, X 
And tliat she may hate me, transfix lier with it ; 
Or, if thou needs wilt use a golden one. 
Shoot it in the behalf of any other : 
Thou know'st I am thy votary elsewhere. [Aiiile. 

Artem. (to Anton.) Sir. 

Theoph. How he blushes ! 

Sap. Welcome, fool, thy fortune. 
Stand like a block when such an angel courts thee ! 

Artem. I am no object to divert your eye 
From the beholding. 

Anton. Rather a briglit sun. 
Too glorious for him to gaze upon, 
That look not first flight from the eagle's aerie. 
As I look on the temples, or the gods. 
And witli tliat reverence, lady, I Ijehold you, 
And sliall do ever. 

Artem. And it will become you. 
While thus we stand at distance ; but, if love, 
^ove horn out of the assurance of your virtues, 
1 eacli me to stoop so low 

Anton. O, rather take 
A higher flight. 

Artem. W by, fear you to be raised ? 
Say 1 put off the dreadful awe that waits 
On majesty, or with you share m\ beams. 
Nay, make you to outshine me ; change the name 
Of Subject iuto Lord, rob you of service 
That's due from >ou to me, and in me make it 
Duty to honour you, would you refuse me? 

Anton. Refuse you, madam ' sucha worm as 1 am» 



* Than to mix yreainesa with a jniiice that o^ve^^ 
Whiri-v.r I ho foiiiier wliu.rs ni. t-t witli this word, in tlie 
Miise III possess, llity alter it into ou-ns, tliuugh it is so used 
iu almost e\e)) page of our <,lil dr^iiidli-ts. 

+ to dull tlic stt'orrfi] So the old copies. Mr. 

M. .Mrtson, read?, to dull liieir swords ' 

I Fair Venus' son draw forth a leaden dart,} The idea 
of this double ettect, to «hich Mdssin);er has nioic than oce 
ulliisioii, is tioni Ovid : 

Filins liiiic Veiieiis; Figat tiiiis omnia, Plicebe, 
'JV jiieiis arciis, ait ;— Parnasyi ronstitit arre, 
Eque sagilfifera (iromsit duo l.li pliaietra 
Diversnruin operuni : fiigai hoc, facil iiliid amorcin. 
Quod faci', anratum c-t, et ciispide lnli;et acuta ; 
yuod lugat, oblusum est, et Imbet sub ai'undine )'liimbiim. 

Met. lib I. 470. 



Refuse what kings upon their knees woiilii suft foH 

Call it, great lady, bv another name ; 

An humble modesty, that would net mate>> 

A molehill with Olympus. 

Artem. He that's famous 
For honourable actions in the war. 
As you are, Antoninus, a proved soldier, 
Is fellow to a king. 

Anton. If you love valour, 
As 'tis a kinglv virtue, seek it out. 
And cherish it in a king : there it shines brighteat. 
And yields the bravest lustre. Look on Epire, 
A prince, in whom it is incorporate ; 
And let it not disgrace him that he was 
O'erconie by Ca?sar; it was victory. 
To stand so long against him : had you seen him, ... 
How in one bloody scene he did discharge 
The parts of a commander and a soldier, 
Wise in direction, bold in execution ; 
\'ou would have said, Great Caesar's self excepted, 
The world yields not his e(|lial. 

Artem. Yet I have heard. 
Encountering him alone in the head of his troop, 
\ ou took him prisoner. 

K. of Epire. 'Tis a truth, great princess ; 
I'll not detract from valour. 

Anton. 'Twas mere fortune; 
Courage had no hand in it. 

Theoph. Did ever man 
Strive so against his ■ wn good ? 

Sap. Spiritless villain ! 
How 1 am tortured ! By the immortal gods, 
I now could kill him. 

Diode. Hold, Sapritiiis,hold, 
On our displeasure hold ! 

Harp. Why, tliis would make 
A father mail, 'tis not to be endtitCtl ; 
Your honour's tainted in't. 

Sup. By heaven, it is ; 
I shall think of it. 

Harp. 'Tis not to be forgotten. 

Artem. Nay, kneel not, sir, I am no ravisher. 
Nor so far gone in fond aflfection to you, 
But that I can retire, my honour safe : — 
Yet say, hereafter, that thou hast neglected 
What, but seen in possession of another. 
Will make thee mad with envy. 

Anton. In her looks 
Revenge is written. 

Mac. As you love your life, 
Study to appease her. ' 

Anton. Gracious madam, hear me. 

Artem. And be again refused ? 

Anton. The tender of 
My life, my service, or, since you vouchsafe it,* 
JMv love, my heart, my all : and pardon me. 
Pardon, dread princess, tliat 1 made some scruple 
To leave a valley of security. 
To mount up to tlie hill of majesty, 
On which, the nearer Jove, the nearer lightning. 
What knew I, but your grace made trial of me •. 
Durst I presume to embrace, where but to toucb 
With an unmanner'd hand, was death? The fox. 
When he saw iirst the forest's king, the lion, 



• My life, my service, or, since you vouchsafe it, 

My love, \c.] This i* the reaiiiii;^ of ti.e tirsl edition 
and is evidi-iilly rii;ht. Coxeter follows the if riiid ami third, 
which nail not inste.-.d of or. How did this iiouseuse escape 
Mr. M. Mason 1 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act It 



Was nlniost dead with fear ;* the second view 
Onlv a little daunted liim; the third, 
He durst salute liim boldly : pmy you, apply this; 
And you shall find a Utile time will teach me 
To l<>,)k with more familiar eyes upon you, 
Than duty yet allows me. 

Slip. VVeil excused. 

Arlem. You may redeem all yet. 

Diode. And, that he may 
Have means and opportunity to do so, 
Artemia, I leave you my substitute 
In fair Ca^sarea. 

Sap. And here, as yourself, 
We will obey and serve her. 

Diode. Antoninus, 
So you prove hers, I wish no other heir ; 
Think oii't :— be careful of your charo-e, Theophilus ; 
Saprilius, be you my daughter's gjuardian. 
Your company I wish, confederate princes, 
In our Dalmatian wars, which finished 
With victory I hope, and Maximinus, 
Our brother and copartner in the empire, 
At my request won to confirm as much. 
The liins^doms I took from you well restore, 
And make you greater than you were before. 

[Eaeitnt all but Antmiinus and Macrimis, 

Anton Oh, I am lost for ever ! lost, Macrinus ! 
The anchor of the wretcl\ed, hope, forsakes me. 
And with one blast of fortune all my light 
Of happiness is put out. 

Mac. You are like to those 
That are ill only, 'cause thev are too well ; 
That, surfeiting in the excess of blessings. 
Call their abundance want. What could you wish, 
That is not fall'n upon you ? honour, greatness, 
Respect, wealth, favour, the whole world for a dower ; 
And with a princess, whose excelling form 
Exceeds her fortune. 

Anton, Yet poison still is poison. 
Though drunk in gold ; and all these flattering glories 
To me, ready to starve, a painted banquet. 
And no essential food. When I am scorch'd 
With fire, can flames in any other quench me? 
What is her love to me, greatness, or empire, 
That am slave to another, who alone 
Can uive me ease or freedom ? 

Mac. Sir, you point at 
Your dotage on the scornful Dorothea : 



Is she, though fair, the same da)' to be named 

With best Artemia ? In all their courses, 

Wise men jiropose their ends : with sweet Artemia 

There comes along pleasure, seem ity. 

Usher'd by all that in this life is precious : 

With Dorothea (thnui;h her birtli be nobl<», 

Tlie daughter of a senator of Rome, 

By him left rii h, yet with a private wealth. 

And far inferior to yours) arrives 

The emperor's frown, which, like a mortal plague, 

Sjieaks death is near ; the piincess' lieavy scorn, 

Under which you will shrink ;t your father's fury, 

Which to resist, even piety forbids : — 

And but remember that she stands suspected 

A favourer of the Cliristian sect ; she brings 

Not dangec but assured destru;tion wi'h her. 

This truly weigh'd one smile of great Arteuiia 

Is to be cherish'd, and preferr'd before 

All joys in Dorothea : therefore leave her. [thou art 

Anton. In what thou think'st thou artn,ost wise 
Grosslv abused, Macrinus, and most foolish. 
For any man to mat( h above his rank, 
Is but to sell his liberty. With Artemia 
I still must live a servant ; but enjoying 
Divinest Dorothea, I shall rule. 
Rule as becomes a husband : for the danger. 
Or call it, if you will, assured destructien , 
I slight it flius.— If, then, thou art my friend. 
As I dare swear thou art, aid wilt not take 
A governor's place upon thee, J be my helper. 

Mac. You know I dare, and will do any thing ; 
Put ine unto the test. 

Anton. Go tlien, INIacrinus, 
To Dorothea ; tell her I have worn. 
In all the battles I have fought, her figure. 
Her figure in my heart, which, like a deity, 
Hath still protected me. Thou can'st sjieak well, 
And of thy choicest language spare a little, 
To make fier understand how much I love her. 
And how I languish for her. Bear these jewels. 
Sent in the way of sacrifice, not service. 
As to my goddess : all kt.s$ thrown behind me, 
Or fears that may deter me, say, this mornnig 
I mean to visit her by the name of friendship : 
— No words to contradict this. > 

Mac. I am yours ; 
And„if my travail this way be ill spent. 
Judge not my readier will by the event. [Exeunt. 



ACT II, 



SCENE I. — A Room in Dorothea's House. 
Enter Spun'gius, and Hincius.]! 
Spun. Turn Christian Wiuld he that first tempted 



* ff'ag almost de?id witJtfear;] The reading of the first 
quarto is drad, wliicli may peihaps, be tlie genuine word. 
The fabl" is from the Greek. In a preceding line there is 
an alln>iuii to tlie proverb : — Procul a Jove, sed prociil t 
fitltnint:. 

+ Under which you will shrink ;] So all the old copies. 
Modern editors inconeclly, and uiimetrieally read : 
Under which yon'll .-^ink, &c. Tomitted in Edit, of 1813.) 

X A (jovernor's place vpon th(.-(:.\ From the Latin : »ic sfs 
WRihi tutor. 

^ All lets thrown behind w,] i. e. All impedi- 

nenU. So in the Mayor uf (Juinhurouyh : 



me to have my shoes walk upon Christian soles, had 
turn'd me into a capon ; for I am sure now, the 
stones of all my pleasure, in this fleshly life, are 
cut cflT. 



" Hope, and be »nre I'll soon remove the let 
That stands between thee and thy glory." 

II Very few of onr oH Enjilish plajs are free from theje 
dialogues of low wit and batfoonery : 'twas the >iie of th« 
a^e ,• nor is Massinyer less free from it thai' his cotempo- 
raries. To defend them is impossible, nor shall I attempt 
it. They are of tliis use, that they mark the taste, display 
the manners, and shew usvvhat was the chief delight and 
entertainment of our forefathers. Coxeteh. 

It should, however, be observed, in justice to our old 
plays, that few, or rather none of them, are contanr'.inatei' 
with such detestable ribaMiy as the present. To " low ^it," 



SCF.NK I.J 



THE VIRGIN.MARTYR. 



Hi.r. So then, if any coxcomb lias a o:alloping de- 
sire to ride, here's a geldin<;-, if lie can but sit hi u. 

Spun. 1 kick, for all that, like a horse ; — look 
else. 

Hir. But that is a kickish jade, fellow Spungius. 
Have not I as much cause to complain as thou hast ! 
When 1 was a pagan, there was an infidel jjunk of 
mine, would have let me come upon trust for my 
curvetting-: a pox on your Christian cockatrices ! 
they cry, Lke poulterers' wives: — No money, no 
conev. 

Spun. Bacchus, the god of brew'd wine and sugar, 
grand patron of rob-pots, upsy-freesy tipplers, and 
super-nucnlum takers ; this Bacchus, who is head 
warden of Vintners'-liall, ale-conner, mayor of all 
victualliiig-houses, the sole liijuid benefactor to bawdy 
houses; lanceprezade. to red noses, and invincible 
adelantado over the armado of pimpled, deep-scarleted, 

rubified, and carbuncled faces 

Hir. What of all this? 

Spun. This boon Bacclianalian skinker, did I make 
legs to. 

//((•. Scurvy ones, when thou wert drunk. 
Spun. There is no danger of losing a man's ears 
by makir.g these indentures ; he that will not now 
and then be Calabingo, is worse than a Calamoothe. 
When I was a pagan, and kneeled to this Bacchus, 
I durst out-drink a lord ; but your Christian lords 
out-bowl me. I was in hope to lead a sober life, 
when 1 was converted; but, now amongst the Chris- 
tians, I can no sooner stagger out of one alehouse, 
but I reel into another : they have whole streets of 
nothing but drinking-rooms, and drabbing-cham- 
bers, jumbled together. 

Hir. Bawdy Priapus, the first schoolmaster chat 
taught butchers to stick pricks in flesli, and make it 
swell, thou know'st, was the only ninglethat I cared 
for under the moon ; but, since I left him to follow 
a scurvy lady, what with her praying and our fast- 
ing, if now 1 come to a wench, and offer to use her 
any thing hardly (telling her, being a Christian, she 
must endure), she jiresently handles me as if 1 were 
a clove, and cleaves me with disdain, as if I were a 
calf s head. 

Spun. 1 see no remedy, fellow Hircius, but that 
thou and I must be half pagans, and half Christians ; 
for we know very fools that are Christians. 

Hir. Right: the quarters of Cliristians are good 
for nothing but to feed crows. 

Spun. True : Christian brokers, thou know'st, are 
made up of the quarters of Christians ; par-boil one 
of these rogues, and he is not meat for a dog : no, 



or iiitlced to wit of any kind, it h;is nut llie sli^^licst proti'n- 
sion ; being, in fact, nolliiii<; inoru tli.in a loallisonie >()()tei-- 
kin ongondercd of rtltli and dnlness. (It was e* i ienlly tlie 
anth.ir s design to pcrsonil'y Lust and DrHnkenness in the 
characitrs of Hiiciiis anj Spniii;iHS, and \U\% may account 
foi (:.e ribaldry in wliicli tlu-y indnlgt.) Tliat Mas.«ini;er is 
not fir.- tuna di.il0L;ncs of low wit and bnttbonciy (llion_li 
ccrl.iinly, notwitlislandini; Coxct.r's assertion, lie is nmcli 
more so ihin Ins contenipor.iries) may readil\ be !;ranted ; 
bill t.'u ptr'on who, alter perusing this 'jxecrilile Hash, can 
imasiino it to hear any lesemhl iiue to his stjieand manner, 
must have lea I him to very liille pwrp isc. It w,is assuredly 
written l)y Decker, as was the resi of llii< act, in which tlie.e 
is nine I lo approNc : Hithrcspen to this scene, and every 
other ill wlii.li ilie present speakers are inlrodiued, I lecom- 
iiieiid Ih.iri to the reader's supreme scorn and coiitciiiit ; if 
he pa'^s them eniirely over, he will lose little of the sti.rv, 
and niitliiny of his respect for the aiKlmr. I have caret'il'ly 
coriected the text in innumerable places, but eiven it no 
faither co.i-ilcratioa. 1 repeat iiij ciuiealv thai iIik reader 
would reject it altogether. 



no, I am resolved to have an infidel's lieart, though 
in shew I carry a Christian's face. 

Hir. Thy last shall serve my foot : so will I. • 
Spun. Our whimpering lady and mistress sent me 
with two great baskets full of beef, mutton, veal 

and goose, fellow Hircius 

Hir. And woodcock, fellow Spungius. 
Spun. Upon the poor lean ass-fellow, on which 1 
ride, to all the almswomen : what think'st thou I 
have done with all this good cheer 1 
Hir. Eat it ; or be choked else. 
Spun. Would my ass, basket and all,' were in thy 
maw, if I did ! No, as I am a demi-pagan, I sold th« 
victuals, and coined the money into pottle pots of 
wine. 

Hir. Therein thou shewed'st thyself a perfect 
demi-christian too, to let the poor beg, starve, and 
hang, or die of the pip. O^r puling, snotty-nose 
lady sent me out likewise with a purse of money, to 
relieve and release prisoners : — Did I so, think you ? 
Spun. Would thy ribs were turned into grates of 
iron then. 

Hir. As I am a total pagan, I swore the)- should 
be hanged first; for, sirrah Spungius, I lav at my 
old ward of lechery, and cried, a pox on your two- 
penny wards ! and so I took scurvy common flesh 
for the money. 

Spun. And wisely done; fur our lady, sending it 
to prisoners, had bestowed it out upon lousy knaves : 
and thou, to save that labour, cast'st it away upoo 
rotten whores. 

Hir. All my fear is of that pink-an-eye jack-an- 
apes boy, her page. 

Spun. As 1 am a pagan from my cod-piece down- 
ward, that white-faced monkey frights me too. I 
stole but a dirty pudding, last day, out of an alms- 
basket, to give my dog when he was hungry, and the 
peaking chitty-face page hit me in the teeth with it, 
Hir. With the dirty. pudding ! so he did me once 
with a cow-turd, which in knavery I would liave 
crumb'd into one's porridge, wlio was half a pao-an 
too. The smug dandiprat smells us out, whatsoever 
we are doing. 

Spun. 13oes he ? let him take heed I prove not 
his back-friend : I'll make him curse his smelling 
what I do. 

Hir. 'Tis my lady spoils the boy ; for he is ever 
at her tail, and she is never well but in his company. 

Enter AxctLO tt';('t a hooh, and a taper lighted ; theu 
seeing Itim, counterfeit devotion, 

Aug. O ! now your hearts make ladders of your 
eyes. 
In shew to climb to heaven, when your devotion 
Walks upon crutches. Where did vou waste your 
When the religious man was on his knees, [time. 
Speaking the heavenly language! 

Spun. Why, fellow Angelo, we were speaking in 
pedlar's French, I hope, 

Hir. We have not been idle, take it upon my wori 

Ang. Have you the baskets emptied, which yoor 
Sent, from her charitable hands, to women [ladr 
That dwell upon her pity ? 

Spun. Emptied them ! yes; I'd be loth to hare 
my belly so empty ; yet, I am sure, I munched not 
one bit of them neitlier. 

Ang. And went your money to the prisoners? 

//('/■. Went ! no ; I carried it, and with these fia- 
gers paid it away. 



10 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[An II. 



An^. What way? the devil's way, tlie way of sin, 
The wav of hot damnation, way of lust ! 
And you, to wash awav the poor man's bread 
In bowls of drunkennes;^. 

Spun. Drunk nness ! yes, yes, I use to be druuk ; 
our next neighbour's man, called Christopher, hath 
often seen me drunk, hath he not? 

Hir. Or me given so to the flesh ! my cheeks 
speak mv doings. 

Ang. Avaunt, ye tliieves, and hollow hypocrites ! 
Your liearts to me lie open like black books. 
And tliere I read your doings. 

Spun. And what do you read in mv heart? 
Hir. Or in mine ? come, amiable Angelo, beat the 
flint of your brains. 

Spun. And let's see what sparks of wit fly out to 
kindle your cerebrum. [S'ius call'd, 

Aug. \o\iv names even brand you ; you are Spun- 
And like a spunge, you suck up lickerish wines, 
Till your soul reels to hell. 

Spun, To hell ! can any drunkard's legs carry him 

60 far ? food , 

iing. For blood of grapes vnu sold the widows' 

And starving- them 'tis murder : what's this but 

hell ? 

Hircius vour name, and goa*ish is vour nature : 
You snatch the meat out of the prisoner's mouth, 
To fatten harlots : is not this hell too ? 
No angel, but the devil, waits on you. 
Spun, Shall I cut his throat? 

Hir. No ; better burn him, for I think he is a 
witch ; but sooth, sooth him 

Spun. Fellow Angelo, true it is, that falling into 

the company of wicked he-christians, for my part — 

///)•. And .-he-ones, for mine, — we have them 

swim in shoals hard by 

Spun. We must confess, I took too much out of 
the jiot ; and he of t'other hollow commodity. 

Hir. Yes, indeed, we laid Jill on both of us : we 
cozen 'd the poor ; but 'tis a common thing- ; many a 
one, that counts himself a better Christian than we 
two, has done it, by this light. 

Spun. But pray, svreet Angelo, play not the tell- 
tale 10 my lady ; and, if you take us creeping into 
any of tiiese mouse-holes of sin any more, let cats 
flay off our skins. 

Hir. And put nothing but the poison'd tails of 
rats into those skins. 

Aug. Will you dishonour her svv-eet charitv, 
Who saved you from the tree of death and shaine ? 

Hir. Would I were hang'd, rather than thus be 
told of my I'aults. 

Spun. She took us, tis true, from the gallows ; 
yet I hope she will not bar yeomen sprats to have 
their swing. 

Aug, She comes, beware and mend. 

Hir. Let's break his neck, and bid him mend. 

Enter Dohothea. 

Dor. Have you my messages, sent to the poor, 
Deliver'd with good hands, not robbing- them 
Of anv jot was theirs? 

Spu)i. r<ob them, 1-ady ! I hope neither mv fellow 
nor I am thieves. 

. Hir. Delivered with good hands, madam ! else 
let me never lick my fingers more when I eat but- 
ter'd fish. 

Dor. Who cheat the poor, and from them pluck 
their alms. 
Pilfer from heaven ; and there are thunderbolts 



From thence to bent them ever. Do not lie. 
Were you both faithful, true distributers? 

Spun. lAe, madam ! wliat grief is it to see you 
turn swaggerer, and give your poor-minded rascally 
servants the lie. 

Dor. I'm gl.id you do not ; if those wretched people 
Tell you they pine for want of anv thing. 
Whisper but to mine ear, and you slta 1 furnish them. 
Hir. Whisper! nay, lady, for my part I'll cry 

whoop. 
Aug. Play no more, villains, with so good a lady ; 

For, if you do 

Spun. Are we Christians? 
///)-. The foul fiend snaji all pagans for me. 
Aug. Away, and, once itiore, mend. 
Spun. Takes us for botchers. 
Hir. A patcli, a patth !* [Exeunt Spun, and Hir 
Dor. JMy book and taper.f 
Aug. Here, most holy mistress. 
Dor. '1 liv :voice sends forth such music, that I 
Was ravish'd with a more celestial sound. [i^ever 
Weri' every servant in the world like thee. 
So full of goodness, angels would come down 
To dwell with us : thy name is Ani;elo, 
And like that name thou art ; get thee to resf , 
Thy youth w-ith too much w-atching is opprest. 
Ang. No, my dear lady, I could weary st-ars, 
And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes 
My my late watching, but to w-ait on you. 
When at your prayers you kneel before the -altar, 
Methinks I'm singing with some quire in heaven. 
So blest I hold me in vour company : 
Therefore, my most loved mistress, do not bid 
Your boy, so serviceable, to get hence ; 
For then you break his heart. 

Dor. Be nigh me still, then ; 
In golden letters down I'll set that day, 
VVhich gave thee to me. ' Little did I hope 
To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself, 
This little, pretty body ; when I , coming 
Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy. 
My sweet-faced, godly beggar boy, crave -an alms. 
Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand ! — 
And when I took thee home, my most chaste bosom, 
Methought, was fill'd with no hot wanton fire, 
But w ith a holy flame, mounting- since higher. 
On wings if cherubins, than it did before. 

Aug. Proud am I, that my lady's modest eye 
So likes so poor a servant. 

Dor. I have offer'd 
Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents. 
I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of some, 
To dwell with thy good father; for, the son 
Bewitching me so deej)ly with his presence, 
He that begot him must do't ten times more. 
1 pray thee, my sweet boy, shew me thy parents ; 
Be not ashamed. 

Ang. I am not : I did never 
Know who my mother was : but, by yon palace 



* Hir. ' patch, a patch.'] A knave — a fool — in this sense 
the word is tvuleiilly used in the fcllowini;. 

"Here is such patcheric, such jiigling and such knaverie." 
S/iah. 'i'ruiias & Cres. Act II. Sc. 3. 
althongh nowohsokte in the sense here intended il.tVcqncnlly 
occurs in tlie old dramatists. ED. 

+ Dm: Aly book and taper.] What follows, to the end of 
the scene, is exquisitely beaMtllul. W'h.it pity ihal a man so 
cap.ible ot interesting our best passions (for 1 am |ieisu,i(lerl 
that this also was written by Decker), slionld prnsiilnte his 
genius and his judgment to the production of what couid 
only disgrace himself, and disgust his reader. 



Scene II.] 



THE VIRGIN-MAR rVR. 



U 



Fill'd with bright heavenly courtiers, I dare assure 

And pawn these eves upon it, and this hand, [you, 

My father is in heaven : and pretty mistress, 

If your illustrious hour-glass spend his sand 

No worse than yet it does, upon my life. 

You and I both shall meet my father there, 

And he shall bid you welcome. 

Dor, A blessed day ! 
We all long to be there, but lose the way. 

\Exeunt. 



[Macrinus ' 



[Macrinus, 



SCENE II. — A Street near Dorothea's House. 
Enter Macrfnus, met by Theopiiij.us and Harpax. 

Theop. The Sun, god of the day, guide thee, 

Mac. And thee, Theophilus ! 

Tlieopk. (jhid'st thou in such scorn* ? 
I call my wish b.ick. 

Mac. I'm in haste. 

Theoph. One word. 
Take tlie least hand of time up : — stay : 

Mac. Be brief. 

Theoph. As thought : I prithee tell me, good 
How health and our fair princess lay together 
'I'his night, for j'ou can tell ; courtiers have fliesf 
That buzz all news unto them. 

Mac. Slie slept but ill. 

Theoph. Doublethvcourtesy ; how does Antoninus? 

Mac. Ill, well, straight, crooked,— I know not bow. 

Theoph. Once more ; 
— Thv head is full of windmills : — when doth the 
Fill a bed full of beauty, and bestow it [princess 

On Antoninus, on the wedding-night? 

Mac. I know not. 

Theoph. No! thou art the manuscript, 
Where Antoninus wriies down all his secrets : 
Honej-t Macrinus, tell me. 

Mac. Fare you well, sir. [Exit. 

Harp. Honesty is some fiend, and frights him 
A many courtiers love it not{. [hence ; 

Theoph. What jiiece 
Of this state-wheel, which winds up Antoninus, 
Is broke, it runs so jarringly ? the man 
Is from himself divided : O thou, the eye 
By which I wonders see, tell me, my Harpax, 
What gad-fly ticklfS this ]\lacrinus so, 
Tliat, flinging up the tail, he breaks thus from me. 

Harp. Oh, sir, liis brain-pan is a bed of snakes. 
Whose stings shoot through his eye balls, whose 

poisonous spawn 
Ingenders such a fry of speckled villainies. 
That, unless charms more strong than adamant 
Be used, the Roman angel's^ wings shall melt, 



* Theoph. Clad'st thoit m such scorn ?] This is the reailing 
of all ilip ol.l cupii'S, iinil appedis to be the genuine out. 
Theophilus who is rtpiesenteil as a furious zealot for pa- 
ganism, is niortifit"! at the Inditterence with wliich Macrinus 
returns the happiness Jie li.id wi-hcd him by his god. Mr. 
M. Mason reads, G.iddest thou in such scorn? 

t courtiers have ttic-i] 'J'his word is used by 

Ben Jon-on, a close and devoted imitator of the ancients, 
for a don esiic parasite, a familiar, &.-.. and from him, pro- 
bably. Picker adopted it in the present sense. 

j A many courtiers love it not ] This is the reading of the 
first quaito. The editors follow that of .the last two :— And 
many &c. which is not so good. 

§ the Homnn ang I's] As anvils were no part 

of the pagan tiieoloL'y, this should certainly be avyel from 
the ltali.iu auyello, which means a bird. M. Mason. 

I, we.; to be wished that critics would sonielimes apply 
to them-ilves the advice which Gonerill gives to poor old 
Lear : 

" I pray you, father, beiny weak, seem so ;" 



And Cai'sar's diadem be from his head 

Spurn 'd by base feet ; tlie laurel which he wears. 

Returning victor, be enforced to kiss, 

1 hat which it hates, the fire. And can this ram, 

'i'his Antoninus-engine, being made ready 

To so much mischief, keep a steady motion ? — 

His eyes and feet, you see. give strange assaults. 

Theoph. I'm turu'd a marble statue at thy languag* 
Which printed is in such crabb'd characters. 
It. puzzles all my reading : what, in the name 
Of Pluto, now is hatching? 

Harp. This Macrinus* 
The line is, upon which love-errands run 
'Twixt Antoninus and that ghost of women, 
The bloodless Dorothea, who in prayer 
And meditation, mocking all your gods. 
Drinks up her ruby colour : yet Antoninus 
Plays the P^ndymion to this pale-faced moon. 
Courts, seeks to catch her eves — 

Theoph. And what of this ? 

Harp. These are but creeping billows. 
Not got to siiore yet : but if Dorotliea 
Fall on his bosom, and be fired with love, 
(Your coldest women do so,) — had you ink 
Brew'd from the infernal Styx, not all that blaLknesii 
Can make a thing so foul, as the dishonours. 
Disgraces, buffetings, and most base affronts 
Upon the briglit Artemia, star o' th' court. 
Great Csesar's daughter. 

Theoph. I now conster thee. [fill'd 

Harp. Nay, more ; a firmament of clouds, being 
With Jove's artillery, shot down at once. 
To pashf your gods in pieces, cannot give, 



we should not then find lo many of these certainties. The 
barbarous word auyel, of which Mr. M. Alason speaks so 
confidently, is foreign lo our language, whereas anyel, in 
the sense of birds, occurs frequently. Joiison Ijeariiifnlly 
rails the nightingale, " the dear goo<l anyel of the spiing ;" 
and if this shouUl be ihought, as it probably is, a Grecism; 
yet we have the same term in another passage, which wiU 
admit of no <lispiife : 

" Not an anyel of the air 

Hirii melodious, or bird fair, &c. 

Tv-o Aoble h'insmem. 

In Mandeville, the barbarous Heroflotus of a I) u ba-"-n 
age, there is an account of a people (probably llie ieijjain& 
of the old Guebies) who exposed the dead boc'iis () flieir 
parents to ihe foulrs of the air. Tliey lescrved, howi ver, 
the sculls, of which, says he, the son, " letetlie make a cuppe, 
and thereof druikeihe he with gret devorioun, in remem- 
braunce of the hol> man that iheaunyeUs of Cod had eten. 

" By tliise.xpre.-sion," says Mr. Hole, " Mandeville possi- 
bly meani to insinuate that they were consideicd as sacred 
messenyers." No, surely : aunyeles of God, was s) nony- 
mous in Mandeville's vocibulary, tofowles of the air. With 
Greek phraseolo^jy he w'd*, ^.'erhaps, but little acquainted, but 
he knew his own language well. fBy anyel is meant the 
Roman ensign^the eayle). 

The leader cannot but have already observed how ill the 
style of Decker assimilates wiih that of Massiiiger : in the 
former art Harpax had spoken suHiciently plaiii, and told 
Theophilus of strange and iiiipoitant events, without these 
ha|Sli and violent starts and meta|,hoi'S. 

* Harp. This Macrinus 

The line is, ■ifC] 'J'he old copies read time. Before I >aw 
Mr. M. Mason's emendation, 1 li.id altercil it to /«■;»«■. JAne 
however, appears to be the genuine word. The allusion is 
to the rude hre-works of our ancestors. So, in the Fawnt 
by Maiston. 

" Paye. Theie be squibs, sir, running upon lines,\We 
sore oi our gawd\ gallants," &c., {an I in Deckers Honest 
Wlioie. "Troth iiiistres^^, to tell you true, the liie-works 
then ran Ironi nie upon lines," >c. > 

+ 'J'o pasli your yods in pieces ] So the old copies. Cox- 
eter (who i« followed, as usual, by Mr. ,M. Mason), ignorant 
perhaps of the sense of pas'i, changed it to dasii, a word of 
far less energy, and of a diticrent meaning. Tlie latter jig 
nifies, to throw one thing with violence against anollier ; the 



IS 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act II. 



With all those thunderbolts, so deep a blow 
To the religion there, and pagan lore. 
As this ; for Dorothea hates your gods, 
And, if she once blast Antoninus* soul, 
Making- it foul like hers, Oh ! the example — 

Thenph. Eats through CiT?sarea's heart like liquid 
poison. 
Have I invented tortures to tear Christians, 
To see but which, could all that feel hell's torments 
Have leave to stand aloof here on earth's stage, 
They would be mad 'till they again descended. 
Holding- the pains most horrid of such souls, 
Maj'-g-ames to those of mine : has this my hand 
Set down a Christian's execution 
In such dire postures, that the very hangman 
Fell at ray foot dead, hearing; but their figures ; 
And sliall Macrinus and his fellow-masker 
Strangle me in a dance J 

Harp. i\ o ; — on ; 1 hug thee, 
For drilling thy ([uick brains in this rich plot 
Of tortures 'gainst these Christians : on ; I hug thee ! 

Theoph. Both hug and holy me ; to this Dorothea 
Fly thou and 1 in thunder. 

Harp. Not for kingdoms 
Piled upon kingdoms : there's a villain page 
Waits on her, whom 1 would not for the world 
Hold traffic wirh ; I do so hate his sight 
That, should I look on him, I must sink down. 

Thenph. i will not lose thte then, iier to confound ; 
None but tliis head with glories shall be crown'd. 

Harp. Oh ! mine own as I would wish thee. 

[_Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — A Room in DonoxnEA's House. 
Enter DonoTHEA, Machinus, and Ancelo. 

Dor. !\Iy trusty Angelo, with that curious eye 
Of thine, which ever waits upon my business, 
I prithee wa'ch those my still-negligent servants, 
That they perform my will, in what's enjoiu'd them 
To the good of others ; else will you find them flies, 
Not lying still, yet in them no good lies : 
Be careful, dear boy. 

Ang. Yes, my sweetest mistress.* [Exit. 

Dor. No^v, sir, you m-ay go on. 

Mac. I then must study 
A new arithmetic, to sum up the virtues 
Which Antoninus gracefully become. 
There is in him so much man, so much goodness, 



•ormer, to Mril:e a thine with s;,ch force as to crush it to 
pieces. Thus i,, Act IV. of this trngedy : 

" when the bdttoring r.im 

Whs fitchin',^ his crtieei backwards, to path. 
Me win. his lioiiis in pieces." 
The word is now ohsokte ; which i* to be regretted, as we 
have none lliat can H.leqti.itely supply its placv : it is used in 
Its proper sense by Dryden, whicii is the latest instance 1 
recollert : 

" 'J'hy cnnning engines hnve with l.ihonr raised 
V.y heavy .inger, li^^e a mighty weight, 
To fall and pash thee." 
Mr. Giflorcl niiglit have added the following illustration in 
which the distinction between pash and dash is nointedlv 
marked. ' ■' 

" They left him (Bccket) not till they had cnt and pashed 
ont his biaius, and dashed tiein about npon tlie ihiuch 
pavement." Holins-hed, Hen. II. an. 1 171. 

It wonlri not be dilli. nil to rite many other authorities to 
kupporl oi the n-e here made of this now ob.solete word. Shak^- 
pearc fre(|neiitly Ufes it. !•", D. 

• Ang. »», niij sweetest mi.itrrss.] So the old copies : 
the modern editors read. Yes, my sweet viistress, which de- 
Uo>^ tlie uictic. 



So much of honour, and of all things else, 

Which make our being excellent, that i'rom his store 

He can enough lend others : yet, much ta'en from 

him. 
The want shall be as little, as when seas 
Lend from their bounty, to till up the poorness* 
Of needy rivers. 

Dor. Sir he is more indebted 
To you for praise, than you to him that owes it. 
Mac. If cjueens, viewing his presents paid to th 
whiteness 
Of your chaste hand alone, should be ambitious 
But to be parted in their numerous shares ;t 
This he counts nothing : could you see main armies 
Make battles in the quarrel of his valour. 
That 'tis the best, the truest, this wei-e nothing; 
The greatness of his state, his father's voice 
And arm awing CjBsarea,| he ne'er boastt. of; 
The sunbeams which the emperor throws upon him, 
Shine there but as in water, and gild him 
Not with one spot of pride : no, dearest beauty, 
All these, heap'd up together in one scale. 
Cannot weigh down the love he bears to you. 
Being put into the other. 

Dor. Could gold buy you 
To sjjeak thus for a friend, you, sir, are worthy 
Of more than I will number; and this \ our language 
Hath power to win upon another woman, 
'lop of whose heart the feathers of this woild 
Are gaily stuck : but all which first you niimed. 
And now this last, his love, to me are nothnig. 
Mac. 'ion make me a sad messenger; — but him- 
self 

Enter An-ioxixus. 

Being come in person, shall, I liope, hear from you 
iMusic more pleasing. 

Anton. Has your ear, Macrinus, 
Heard none, tlien ? 

Mac. None 1 like. 

Anton. But can there be 
In such a noble casket, wherein lie 
Bsiiity a:id chastity in their full perfections, 
A rocky heart, killing with cruelty 
A life that's prostrated beneath your feet? 

Dor. L am guiUv of a shame 1 yet ne'er knew, 
Thus to hold ]iarley with you ; — pray, sir, ])ardon. 

Anton. Good sweetness, you now have it, and shall 
Be but so merciful, before your wounding me [go; 
With such a mortal weapon as Fai-ewell, 
To let me murmur to your virgin ear, 
What 1 was loth to lay on -any tongue 
Bat this mine own. 

Dor. If one immodest accent 
Fly out, 1 ha e you evei-1-astingly. 

Anton. iMv true love dares not do it. 

iliac. Hermes inspire thee ! 



• to,filf vp the poorness'\ The modern editors read 

I know lot wii) — to Jill up \\nii poorness .' 

f Hut to be p lite I in their numerous shares ;] This the 
former eiiilois lia^e modiinizeo into 

Jlut to be piitiieis, &c. 
a better word, peiliaps, but not lor that, to b;' imwairantabljr 
ihrii-l into the te.\t. The exp^.•^Mon may be louiid in the 
witters ol our luthor's age.eape'.i .lly in lieu Joiisoii, in the 
siiise lure u'luired : to be parted; to be favoured, or en- 
dowed witli a pait. 

; And arm aw ins; Ccusarea] 1 have vi ntiired, to differ 
here from all the copies, which r. ad owlny ; the erri.r, if it 
bo one, as I IliiiiU it is, proli.ibly arose Mom the expression 
beiiii; taken down bv llie ear. 



§C£NK in.] 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



13 



Enter abnie, Aktemia, Sapiutius, TiiLoniiLus, 
Si't'NGius, and IIinciis. 

Spun. So, now, do you see ? -Our work is done ; 
the fish vou angle for is nibbling- at the hook, and 
therefore nntniss the cod-piece-})oint of our reward 
no matter if the breeches of conscience fall about our 
heels. 

Theoph. The rold you earn is here ; dam up your 
And no words of it. [mouths, 

Hir. Xo; nor no words from you of too much 
damninn- ni-if!ier. I know women sell themselves 
dailv, and a:e hacknied out for silver : vhy may not 
we, tlien, betray a scurvy mistress for g;old ? 

Spun. She saved us from the gallows, and, only 

to keep one proverb from breaking- his neckt we'll 

hang- her. [white boys. 

Theoph. Mis well done; go, go, you're my fine 

Spun. ]f your red boys, 'tis well known more ill- 
favoured faces than ours are j)aiiited. 

Sap. Those fellows trouble us. 

Theoph. Away, away! 

Hir. I to my sweet placket. 

Spun. And I to my full pot. 

[Exeunt. Hir. and Spun. 

Anton. Come let me tune you : — gl-dze not thus 
With self-love of a vowed virginity, [>our eyes 

Make every man your glass ; you see our sex 
Do never murder [iropagation ; 
We all desire your sweet society. 
And if v'Hi bar me from it, you do kill me, 
And of my blood are guilly. 

Artem. base villain ! 

Sap. Hridle your rage, sweet princess. 

Anton. Could not my fortunes, 
Rear'd liigher far than yours, be worthy of you, 
Methinks mv dear affection makes you mine. 

Dor. Sir, for your fortunes, were they mines of 
He that I love is richer ; and for w orth, [gold, 

You are 1o him lower than any slave 
Is to a monarcli. 

Sap. So insolent, base Christian ! 

Dor. Can I, with wearing out mv knees before 
Get vou but be his servant, you shall boast [him, 
You're equal to a king. 

Sap. Confusion on thee. 
For plaving thus the Iving sorceress ! [ihe sun 

Anton. Your mocks are great ones ; none beneath 
Will 1 be servant to. — On my knees I beg it, 
Pity me, wondrous maid. 

Sap. I curse thy baseness. 

Theoph. Listen to more. 

Dor. kneel not, sir, lo me. 

Anton, 1 his knee is emblem of an humbled heart : 
That heart which tortured is with your disdain. 
Justly i'or scorning others, even this heart. 
To which for pity such a princess sues. 
As in her hand offers me all the world. 
Great Cicsar's daughter. 

Artem. Slave, thou liest. 

Anton. Vet this 
Is adamant to her, that melts to you 
In drops of blood. 

Theoph. A very dog ! 

Anton. Perhaps v 

"Tis my religion makes you knit the brow ; 
Yet be you mine, -and ever be your own : 
I ne'er will screw your conscience from lliat Power, 
On which you Christi-ans lean. 

Sap. 1 can no longer 



Fret out my life with weeping at thee , villain. 
Sirrah ! [AUmd, 

Would, when I got thee, the high Thunderer's hand 
Had struclc thee in the womb ! 

Mac. We are betray 'd. 

Artem. Is tiat the Llol, traitor, which thou kneel'st 
Trampling u])on my heau'y 1 [to, 

Theoph. Sirrah, bandog* ! 
\Vilt thou in j>ie<.es tear our Jupittr 
For her? our Mars for her ? our Sol for her? 
A whore! a Ik H-bound I In tliis globe of brains, 
Where a whole world of furies for such tortures 
Have fought, as in a chaos, wbu li should exceed,. 
These nails >liall grubbing lie from skull to skull, 
lo find one hornder ihan all, fur you, 
You three ! 

Artem. Thi-eatcn not, but sirilve : i|uick vengeance . 
Into my bosonit ! caitifi! here all love dies. [flies 

[}• Aeuut above, 

Anton. O! I am thunderstruck! V\ e are both 
o'erwht Im't-I- 

Mac. With one high-raging billow. 

Dor. You a so.'dier. 
And sink beneath the violence of a woman I 

Anton. A woman ! a wroug'd princess. From 

* such a star 
lUazing with firi s of hate, what can belook'd for, 
But tragiial events! my life is now 
The subject of her tyranny. 

Dor. 'I'hat ft ;n- is base. 
Of death, wi.eu that deaih doth hut life displace 
Out of her bouse o^ earth ; you only dread 
The stroke, and uit what follows when you're dead 
There's the great fear, in(!eed| : come, let your eyes 
Dwell where mine do, you'll scorn their tyrannies. 

Re-enter below, Ahiemia, SAPnirius, Tiieofuilus, a 
guard ; Angli.o comes and stands close by Doro- 
thea. 

Artem. l\Jy father's nerves put vigour in minearm. 
And 1 his sirengtb must use. Because I once 
Shed beams of lavnur on thee, and, \\ith the lion, 
Play'd with thee gently, when thou struck'st my 
I'll not insult en a base, humbled prev, [heart. 



• 'l"licopli. -Sirrah, l>,iii(\o!;. 

JJ'itt thou in pieces tear our Jvpitcr] A bandog, as the 
nniiit in!|joiIs, w.is ,i (log m) Ikrci-, as to i-fijiiiic to be 
chained up li .i.d'i^.s aic Ii't'i|U<-i,ll> int-iilujit'il 1)> iiiir old 
writers (iiutt-L-d Hit- wnrd uci-iir.- lim i- li;i.L-s in llus very- 
play) and aluajs xvitli a rflfieiice l.i tin ir siva^t nature. 
If lilt term was appr.ipriatt-d lo a spri-ii->, it probaljly meant 
a large dog, •'!■ ihe ii asliit kind, « liiili, til' iii;li n.i longer 
met with here, i^ Mill cuimiioii in injiij parl^ i.f Geiin,iny : 
it was tan.iliar to Siiyders.and is loiiiid in m(>^t <<t hi.^ hunt, 
ing-pieees. 

In this couiiliy the bai:dog was kett tn bail boais: with 
the dtclini- of lli.it " noble -pint," peiliap-, lie aiiiinal fell 
into disuse, a> lie was too feKnions I. r a. y doim. si ic pur- 
pose. Mr. «Ml.-hri-,l ha.i fiiiiiished n.e with a ciirii.ris pas- 
sage froiii Laiali i;i., which H ncU-i-s dii\ fii.tliei- delails on 
the subject unneeiss ity. ' On the ?y x h ii ■} it In r iiiajes- 
tyes cnmn ii:!;, a gn-al .Mirt of bancloyx ulie.ir ili'.ir lyed in 
die utter eoimit, .mfi ih) rteen bears in the ii.nii-. \Vhooso- 
ever made ihe |Mii..el! lliear wear < iii.hm- n r a qnea.-i, and 
one for a chilleiigi- an I need wear. A wi,lit «f great wis- 
dooin an<l graviiie sei iiivd tin ir f" email to be, had il 
cum to a j":y : but ilull uuiil tliit iln-y wear c uit-ed to 
appeer tliear ii(uui im Mieli in il'» r, but unlie tnii . nswear 
\w> M\ avncient quiirrele hetwren them anil the handnijs," Ike. 
Qiwen Eli.::atjetli s i.n/irtainment at hillinywut lli Castle, in 
1575. 

t qvl^k vencjeance flies 

Into my liosom, occ.] The old eople.-i re id. Into thy 
boxotu. Fur Ihe cliaii;;e, which is obviously iicce.v-aiy, I ain 
answerable. 

X'llwres the great /for inileed :] Th ■ modern editor* 
omnyreai, which i^ li.iin ■ iu the lir.->t .ii-l second quarto*. 



i« 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act II, 



By lins^erinj; out thy terrors ; but with one frown 
Kill iljpe : hence w i h *em ;ill to execution. 
Seize liiin ; hut let even death itself be weary 
In torturino- her. I'll change those smiles to shrieks ; 
Give the fool what she's proud of, martyrdom : 
In pieces ruck iliat hawd ti o. 

Sap. Albeit the reverence 
I owe our aods, and V"u. are in my bosom, 
Torrents so stron;.^, that pity quite lies drown'd 
From saviup: this younp; man ; yet. wh^n I see 
What face death gives him, and that a thing- within 
Says, 'lis my son, I am forced to be a man, [me 

And fi'row fond of his life, which tlius I beg. 

Artem. And 1 denv. 

Aiikin. Sir, vou dishonour me, 
To sue for that which 1 disclaim to ha\'e. 
I shall more glory in mv suft'i'riiigs gain 
Than you in giving judgment, since I offer 
Mv blood up to your anger ; nor do I" kneel 
To keep a wri'tched life of mine from ruin ; 
Preserve this temple, biii!ded fair as yours is*, 
And Cajsar never v r^ut in greater triumph, 
Than I shall to the scaflbld. 

Artem. Are vou so brave, >ir? 
Set forward to his triumjih, and let those two 
Go cursing along with him. 

Dor. No, but pitying, 
For my parr, I, that you lose ten times more 
By torturing me, than I that dare your tortures : 
Throuj;hall the army of my sins, 1 have even 
Labour'd to break, and cope with death to th' face. 
The visage of a hangman friuhts not me ; 
The sight of whips, racks, gibbets, axes, fires, 
Are scaffoldings by which my soul climbs up 
To an eternal habitation. 

Theaph, C;esar's imperial daughter, hear me speak 
Let not this Christian thing, in this her pageantry 
Of proud deriding both our gods and Ca'sar, 
Build to herself a kingdom in her dt^ath. 
Goingt laughing from us : no ; her bitterest torment 
Shall be, to feel her constancy beaten down : 
The bravery of her resolu'ion lie 
Batter'd, by argument, into such pi.'ces, 
That she again shall, on her bellv, i reep 
To kiss the lavemetits of our painim gods. 

Arlem. How to be done ! 

Theoph. I'll send my daughters to her, 
And ihev shall turn her rocky faivh to wax ; 
Else spit at me, lei me be ma !e your slave. 
And meet no Roman's but a viUain's grave. 

Artem. '1 liy prisoiur let her be, then ; and, 
Sapritius, 
Your son an;l taatt; be yours ; death shall be sent 
To him that sulFers them.by voTce or letters, 
To greet each other. Rifle her estate ; 
Christians to beggary brought, grow dcsparate. 

• Preserve this temple, biiilil \\ fdir as ynuns is.'] As this 
line st.iiiil.-', AiiioiiiiiM.', » ii.jMt'^t i.~, lint iiiL'itly ilMt Aili'iiii.i 
shuul:! iiK^eivc l)i,i<>ilu,i, t)iit liiii .-.lu- >lii>iilii iMisu tier tu a 
degrt'*- of .■.(ilciiiloiii ti|'i.il 1.1 liiT (nvii. The ;ibsiii(lily iif 
auppusiii!;; til it he ^hllul I iii ike llils i'ei|iiesl t» a priiicei^s, 
whu ImiI ciMKleiiiiied hiiii III iliMtli, in r.iviiur i>t her rival, 
made me ,-i1|))I'>m- lli.it Hit re iiiii,-l be an e.mr in this pas- 
sage, an I sii^'.;! sled lln- aineiulinenl — M. Mason. 

WoniliTliilK s.ij;ai:ioiis! A single Ll.iuee it either of the 
first three icIitiHiis uoiill h.ive saved ..11 lliis l.ih.iiir : build 
|7 is the blunder nl llie ipi iriii, Kilil, \>hieh Coxeter fol- 
lowed ; ill the others it >l.iiid.s as in ilie le\t. 

■t (Joins; lamjliiHi/ J'roiii itx :] So ihe old eopies; whleh i* 
far iiioie correct tli.in the modern reading— Go, lauyhinij 
from "« 

j }'f«r son and th.it,l Mraiiiiig Macriims, whom before 
•he had ealle.l a b.i.v.i — M. M.i.soN. 



Dor. Still on (he bread of poverty let me feed. 

Ang. O ! my admired mistress, quench not out 
The h .Iv fires within you, though temptations 
Shower down upon you : clasp thine armour on, 
Fight well, and thou shalt see, after these wars. 
Thy head wear sunbeams, and thy feet touch stars, 
[Exeunt all but Angela, 

Unlet Hincius and Spungius. 

Hir. I low now, Angelo ; how is it, how is it ? 
What thread spins that whore J'ortune upon her 
wheel now? 

.S'/»i;«. Com^ esta, com' esta, poor knave ' 

Hir. Comment portez-vcuiz, comment portez-vouz, 
mon petit g(ir(;on ? 

Spun. My pretty wee comrade, my hilf-inch of 
man's flesh, how run the dice of this cheatin.^- world, 
ha ? 

An<^. Too well on jour sides ; you are hid in gold 
O'er h^ad and ears. 

Hir. We th ink our fates, the sign of the gingle- 
bovs hangs at the doors of our pockets. 

Spuk. Who would think that we, coming forth 
of the a — , as it were, or fag-end of the world, should 
yet see the golden age, when so little silver is 
stirring. 

Ilir. Nav, who can say any citizen is an ass, for 
loading his own back with money till his soul cracks 
again, only to leave his son like a gilded coxcomb 
behind him? Will not any fool take me for a wise 
man now, seeing me draw out of the jiit of inv trea- 
sury this little god with his belly full of gold '. 

Spun. And this, full of the same meat, out of my 
ambry. 

Ang. That gold wdl melt to poison. 

Spmi. Poison ! would it would ; whole jiiuts for 
healths should down my throat. 

Hir. Gold, poiion! there is nevera she-f!ir;nher 
in Cicsarea, th.it lives on the flail of money, will call 
it so. 

Ang. Like slaves you sold your souls f;r golden 
Bewraying her to death, who stept between [dross, 
You and the gallows. 

Spun. It was an easy matter to save us, she being 
so well back'd. 

Hir. The gallows and we fell out ; so she did but 
part us. 

Ang. The misery of that mistress is mine own ; 
She beggar 'd, I left wretched. 

//(■)•. i can but let my nose drop in sorrow-, with 
wet pyes for her. 

Spun. J'he petticoat of her estate is unlaced, I 
confess. 

Hir. Yes, and the smock of her charity is now all 
to jiieces. 

Ang. For love you bear to her, for some good turns 
Done you by me, give me one piece of silver. 

Hir. How! a piece of silver! if thou wert an 
angel of gold, I would not put thee into white i;:oney, 
unless I weighed thee ; and 1 weigh thee not a ruah. 

Spun. A piece of silver ! I never had b;.t two 
calves in my life, and those my mother left lue ; I 
will rai her "part from the fat of them, than from a 
mustard-token's worth of argfnt. 

Hir. And so, swppt nit, we crawl from thee. 

Spun. Adieu, demi-dandi})rat, adieu ! 
A/ig. Stay, — one word yet ; you now are full of 
gold. 

Hir. I would be sorry my dog were so full of the 

I)OX. 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



15 



Spun. Or any sow of mine of tlie meazles either. 

Aiiif;. Go, pfo ! vou're beggars both ; you are not 
Tha: ieather on your feet. [worth 

Hir. Awfiy, away, boy ! 

Spun. Pii!;e, vou do nothing but set patches on 
the iolos of your jests. 

Aug. I am ghul I tried your love, wliich, see ! I 
So lon<v as tills is full. [ want not, 

Both. And so long as this, so long as this. 

Hit: Spungius, you are a picKporket. 

Spun, iliriius, tliou hast ninrd:-5o hng as ! — 
not so much money is left as will buy a lou-e. 

Hir. Thou art a thief, and thou liest in that gut 
thiough which tiiy wine runs, if thou deniest it. 

Spun. Thou liest deeper than the bottom of mine 
enraged pocket, if thou aftVontest it. 

Ang. No blows, no bitter language; — all your 
gold gone ! 

Spu7i. Can the devil creep into one's breeches ? 

Hir, Yes, if his horns once get into the cod-piece, 

Ang. Come, sigh not ; I so little am in love 
With Uiat whose loss kills you, that, see ! 'tis yours, 



All yours . divide the heap in equal sbai-;, 
So you will go along with me to jirisoii. 
And in our mistress' sorrows bear a part- 
Sav, will vou ? 

Both. V\ill we! 

Spun. If she were going to hanging, no gal'owa 
should part us. 

Hir. Let us both be turn'd into a rope of ot ions, 
if we do not. 

Ang. Follow me, then ; repair your bad deeds past; 
Happy are men, when their best days are last ! 

Spun. True, master Angelo ; pr^iy, sir. li>a-l the 
way. [lit It Angela. 

Hir. Let him lead that way, but follow thou me 
this wa\'. 

Spun. I live in a gaol ! 

Hir. Awav, and shift for ourselves: — She'll do 
well enough there ; for prisoners are more hungry 
after mutton, than catchpoles after prisoneis. 

Spun. Let her starve then, if a whole gaol will 
not fill her belly. [^Exeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. — A Room in DonoTHEA's House. 
Enter SAPnrrius, Theopiiii.us, Priest, Calista, and 

CliniSTETA. 

Sap. Sick to the death, I fear*. 

Theoph. I men* your sorrow. 
With my true feeling of it. 

Sap. She's a witch, 
A sorceress, Tlieojihilus ; my son 
Is charin'd by her enchanting eyes ; and, like 
An image made of wax, her beams of beauty 
Melt him to nothing : all mv hopes in him, 
And all his gotten lionours, find their grave 
In his strange dotage on her. Would, when first 
He saw and loved her, tliat the earth had open'd 
And swallow'd both alive ! 

Theoph. There's hojie left vet. 

Sap. Not any: thougli the princess were apjieased, 
All title in her love surrender'd up ; 
Yet this coy Christian is so transported 
Wi h her religion, that unless mv son 
(But let bin' perish fir.st ! ) drinli the same potion. 
And be of ber belief, she'll not vouchsafe 
To be his lawful wiiie. 

Priest. But, once removed 
From her opinion, as I rest assured 
The reasons of these holy maids will win her. 
You'll find her tractable to any thing. 
For your content or his. 

Theoph. If she refuse it. 
The Stygian damps, breeding infectious airs. 
The mandrake's shrieks, the basilisk's killing eye. 
The dreadful lightning that does crush the bones. 
And never singe the skin, shall not appear 

•Sap. Sick to the death, I fear.] It is dt-Iiglitfiil. atter 
the vile ribalilry and h.irslincs< ot' the piecediii!; act, to fall 
in again willi llic cluar and liarmoiiious periods ol' i\(assin!;cr. 
From lience to tlie coiiclisioii of tlie second scene, where 
Decker takes np tlie story, every page is crowded with 
beauties of no connnoii kind. 



Less fatal to her, than my zeal made hot 
^Vith love unto my gods. I have deferr'd it, 
In hojies to draw hack this apos^irij, 
Which will be <>rea'er honour than her death, 
Unto her fii'lier's faith ; and, to that end. 
Have brought mv daughters hither. 

Cal. And we doubt not 
To do what vou desire. 

Sop. Let her be sent for. 
Prosper in your good work ; and were I not 
To attend tlie princess, I would see and hear 
How you succeed. 

Theoph. I am commanded too, 
I'll* bear vou company. 

Sap. Give them your ring. 
To lead her as in triumph, if they win her 
Before her highness. [Exit, 

Theoph. Spare no promises. 
Persuasions, or threats, I do conjure you ; 
If you prevail, 'tis the most glorious work 
You ever undertook. 

Enter Dorothea and Axgelo. 

Priest. She comes. 

Theoph. We leave you ; 
Be constant, and be careful. 

\_Exeunt Theoph and- PrietU 

Cal. We are sorry 
To meet you under guard. 

Dor. But I more grieved 
You are at liberty. So well I love you. 
That I could wish, for such a cause as mine, 
You were my fellow-prisoners : Pritlieo, Angelo, 
Reach us some chairs. Plepse you sit 

Cal. We thank you : 
Our visit is for love, love to your safety. 

Christ. Our conference must be privat?.. Dray you. 
Command your boy to leave us. \ therefore, 

Dor. You may trust him 
With any secret that concerns my lite. 
Falsehood and he are strangers : bad you, ladies. 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act IIL 



Beer. WessVl with such a servant, you had never 

Forsook that way, your journey even half ended, 

That leads to joys eternal. In tlie place 

Of loose lascivious mirtli, lie would have stirr'd you 

To holy meditations ; and so far 

He is from flattery, that he would have told you, 

Your pride being- at the height, how miserable 

And wretched things you were, that, for an hour 

Of pleasure here, have made a desperate sale 

Of all your right in happiness hereafter. 

He must not leave me ; without him I fall : 

In this life he's my servant, in the other 

A wish'd companion. 

Aug. '1 1 n not in the devil, 
Nor all his wicked arts, to shake such goodness. 

Dm: liuL you were speaking, lady. 

Cal. As a friend 
And lover of your safety, and I pray you 
So to receive it ; and, if you remember 
How near in love our parents were, that we. 
Even from the cradle, were brought up together. 
Our amity increasing with our years, 
We cannot stand suspected. 

Dor. To the purpose. 

Cal,. We come, then, as good angels, Dorothea, 
To make j^ou happy ; and the means so easy, 
That, be not you an enemy to )'Ourself, . 
Already you enjoy it. 

Christ. Look on us, 
Ruin'd as you are, once, and brought unto it 
By your persuasion. 

Cal. But what follow'd, lady ? 
Leaving those blessings which our g-ods gave freely, 
And showcr'd upon us with a prodigal hand. 
As to be noble born, youth, beauty, wealth. 
And the free use of these without control, 
Check, curb, or stop, such is our law's indulgence ! 
All happiness forsook us ; bonds and fetters 
For amorous twines ; the rack and l)angman's whips 
In place of choice delights ; our parents' curses 
Instead of blessings ; scorn, neglect, contempt, 
Fell thick upon us. 

Christ. '1 his consider'd wisely. 
We made a fair retreat ; and reconciled 
To our forsaken gods, we live again 
In all prosperity. 

Ciil. By our example. 
Bequeathing misery to such as love it. 
Learn to be happy. I'he Christian yoke's too heavy 
For such a dainty neck ; it was framed rather 
To be the shrine of Venus, or a pillar 
More precious than crystal, to support 
Our Cupid's image : our religion, lady, 
Is but a varied pleasure ; yours a toil. 
Slaves would shrink under. [devils ? 

Dor. Have you not cloven feet ? are you not 
Dare any say so mucli, or dare I hear it 
U ithout a virtuous or religious anger ? 
Now to put on a virgin modesty. 
Or maiden silence, when His power is question'd 
That is omnipotent, were a greater crime 
Than in a bad cause to be impudent. 
Your gods ! your temples ! brothelhouses rather, 
Or wicked actions of the worst of men 
I'ursued and practised. Your religious rites ! 
Oh ! call tljem rath«r juggling mysteries. 
The b-iits and nets of hell : your souls the prey 
For which the devil angles ; your fal^e pleasures 
A steep descent, by which you headlong fall 
Into eternal torments. 



Cal. Do not tempt 
Our powerful gods. 

Dor. Which of your powerful gods ? 
Your gold, your silver, brass, or wooden ones. 
That can nor do me hurt, nor protect you *? 
IMost jiitied women ! will vou sacrifice 
To such, — or call them gods or goddesses. 
Your parents would disdain to be the same, 
Or you yourselves ? O blinded ig-norance ! 
Tell me, Calista, by the truth, 1 charge you, 
Or any thing vou hold more dear, would you, 
To have him deified to posterity. 
Desire your father an adulterer, 
A ravisher, almost a pan-icide, 
A vile incestuous wretch ♦ 

Cat. That, piety 
And duty answer for me. 

Dor. Or you, Christeta, 
To be hereafter register'd a goddess, 
(jive your chaste body up to the embraces 
Of goatish lust 1 have it writ on your forehead : 
" 'i his is the common whore, the prostitute, 
The mistress in the art of wantonness. 
Knows every trick and labyrinth of desires 
That are immodest ?" 

Christ. You judge better of me. 
Or my affection is ill placed on you ; 
Shall I turn strumpet ? 

Dor. No, I think you would not ; 
Yet A'enus, whom you worship, was a whore ; 
Flora, the foundress of the public stews, 
And has, for that, her sacrifice ; your great god. 
Your Jupiter, a loose adulterer. 
Incestuous with his sister : read but those 
That have canonized them, you'll find them worse 
Than, in chaste language, 1 can speak them to you. 
Are they immortal then, that did partake 
Of human weakness, and had ample share 
In men's most base affections ; subject to 
Unchaste loves, anger, bondage, wounds, as men are! 
Here, Jupiter, to serve his lust, turn'd bull, 
The shape t, indeed, in \\ Inch he stole Europa ; 
Neptune, tor gain, builds up the walls of Troy, 
As a day-labourer ; Apollo kee])s 
Admetus* sheep i'or bread ; the Lemnian smith 
Sweats at the forge lor hire ; Prometheus here. 
With his still-gruwing liver, feeds the vulture ; 
Saturn bound last in hell with adamant chains ; 
And thousands more, on whom abused error 
Bestows a deity. Will you then, dear sisters, 
For 1 would have you such, jiay.vour devotions 
To things of les power than yourselves 1 

Cat. We worship 
Their good deeds in their images. 

JJor, By whom fashion'd ? 
By sinl'ul men. I'll tell you a short tale J, 
N or can vou but confess it is a true one : 



' • That can nor do me hurt, nor protect you f] Muro 
spnitLiI, and iiiuru in tlie ;tiiliiui':i iimiiiiui', lli.iii (lie reading 
of lilt" l.ist (jnailo, wlucli tliu iiiodiiii tjliuiis lollow : 

That c.imiui do me hurt, nor protect you.' . 

+ The ^ll.t()^■, indeed, 6cc.] Tlie old iii|iics re.td. The sliip, 
indeed, \c. Coiiecled by Coxttur. [Uiiiilloil in edit, of 
1813.] 

j — J'll tell you a short talr, &c.] I once thought 

I had re id lliis short tale in Arnubiii?, Irnni whom, an^ 
Iriiin Am;;iisIiii, iniieii uf ihe preveiliiii; sjieei li is taken 
but, iipoii luiikinj; liini over a^am, 1 can scarcely luid a 
trace of it. HtioHotiis has, indeed, a story of a king o' 
K^ypt (Ainasisj, which bears a distant resemblance to it 
but llie applicition is altogether diHtiei.t: — ilicie is a baum 



SiCF.NE 11.] 



THE VllCilN-MARTYR. 



ir 



A kino; of Ei^vpt, being to erect 

The image ot" Osiri;, wliom they honour, 

Took iVoiu the mafrons' necks the richest jewels, 

And purest gold, as the materials, 

To finish up his work ; which perfected, 

With all solemnity he set it up. 

To be adored, and served hiiiiself his idol ; 

Desiring it to give him victory 

Against his enemies : but, being overthrown, 

Enraged against his god (tliese are fine gods, 

Subject to human fury !), he took down 

The senseless thing, and melting it again. 

He made a bason, in which eunuchs wash'd 

His concubine's feet ; and for this sordid use 

Some months it served : his mistress proving false, 

As most indeed do so, and grace concluded 

Between him and the priests, of the same bason 

He made his god again ! — Think, think of this 

And then consider, if all worldly honours, 

Or pleasures that do leave sharp stings behind them. 

Have ])ower to win such as have reasonable souls, 

To put their trust in dross. 

Cat. 01), tliat I had been born 
Without a father ! 

Christ. Piefy to him 
Hath niin'd us for ever. 

Dor. Think not so ; 
You may repair all yet : the attribute 
That speaks his Godhead most, is merciful : 
Revenge is proper to the fiends you worship, 
Yet cannot strike wi'hout his leave. — You weep, — 
Oh, 'tis a heavenly shower ! celestial balm 
To cure your wounded conscience ! let it fall. 
Fall thick uj)on it ; and, when that is spent, 
I'll help it with ano'her of my tears : 
And may your true repentance prove the child 
Ot my true sorrow, never mother had 
A birth so happy ! 

Cat. We are caught ourselves, 
'That came to take you ; and, assured of conquest, 
We are your captives. 

Dor. And in that you triumph : 
Your victory had been eternal loss. 
And tiiis 3'our loss immortal gain. Fix here, 
And you sliall feel yourselves inwardly arm'd 
'Gainst tortures, death, and hell : — but, take heed, 
sisters, [suasions. 

That, or through weakness, threats, or mild per- 
Though of a father, you fall not into 
A second and a worse apostac)'. 

Cat. Never, oh never ! steel'd by your example, 
We dare the worst of tyranny. 

Christ. Here's our warrant. 
You shall along and witness it. 

Dor. Be confirm 'd then ; 
And rest assured, the more you suffer here, 
The more your glory, you to heaven more dear. 

[^Eieunt, 
— * — 
SCENE 11.— The Governor's Palace. 

Enter Ahtemia, Sapritius, Theophilus, and 

PIarpax, 
Artem. Sapritius, though your son deserves no pity, 
We grieve his sickness : his contempt of us, 
We cast beliind us, and look back upon 
His service done to Cae; ar, that weighs down 

c^fynhl ill whicli lie and liis t,tH!,ts were acciisloined to spit, 
wash their/eft, iiic. wliicli is ruiiiiid into a yod : l)ul wlit llier 
'.iiis fiiriiisiicd lli« puet wijli all} I'iiits, I eaiiiiot uiiilerlal;e 
io »a>. 



Our just displeasure. If his malady 

Have growth from his restraint, or that you think ^ 

His liberty can cure him, let him have it : 

Say, we forgive liim freely. 

Sap. Your grace binds us 
Ever your humblest vassals. 

Artem. Use all means 
For his recovery ; though yet I love him, 
1 will not force affection. Jf the Christian, 
Whose beauty hath out-rividl'd me, be won 
To be of our belief, let him enjoy her ; 
That all may know, when the cause wills, I can 
Command my own desires. 

Theoph. Be happy then, 
IMy lord Sapritius : I am confident. 
Such eloquence and sweet persuasion dwell 
Upon my daughters' tongues, that they will work 
'Jo any thing they please. [her 

Sap. 1 wisii they may : 
Yet 'tis no easy task to undertake. 
To alter a perverse and obstinate woman. 

[A shout icilhin : loud mutie, 

Artem. What means this shout J 

Sap. 'Tis seconded with music. 
Triumphant music. — Ha ! 

Enter Sempronius. 

Senip. My lord, your daughters, 
Tlie pillars of our faith*, having converted, 
For so report gives out, the Christian ladv, 
The image of great Jupiter born before them. 
Sue for access. 

Theoph. My soul divined as much. 
Blest be tlie time when first they saw this light! 
'1 heir mother, when she bore them to support 
My feeble age, fiU'd not my lon<^ing heart 
With so much joy, as they in this good work 
Have thrown upon me. 

Enter Priest with the Image of Jnpiler, incense and 
censers; Jolloiced by Cai.ista and CunisrETA 
leading Dorothea. 
Welcome, oh, thrice welcome, 
Daughters, both of my bodv and my mind! 
Let me embrace in you my bliss, ray comfort ; 
And, Dorothea, now more welcome too. 
Than if you never had fallen off! I am ravish 'd 
With the excess of joy : — speak, happy daughters, 
The blest event. 

Cal. We never gain'd so much 
By anv undertaking. 

Theoph. O my dear girl. 
Our gods reward thee ! 

Dor. Nor was ever time 
On my part better spent. 

Christ. We are all now 
Of one opinion. 

Theoph. My best Christeta I 
Madam, if ever you did grace to worth. 
Vouchsafe your princely hands. 

Artem. Most willingly 

Do you refuse it ! 

Cal. Let us first deserve it. ("prepare 

Theoph. My own child still ! here set our god ; 
The incense quickly : Come, fair Dorothea, 
I will myself support you ; — now kneel down 
And pay your vows to Jupiter. • 

* The pi/fars nf our f»'\f\i, ^c Here as in iiuiny otiicr 
pl.ict^s. Ill,- i.iiii;u,ij;e (it Clirisliaiiiiy and pa«;aiii-in is • on- 
rounded ;./■«;//! w.i" always Ilie di^lin^live term lor the 
t'uniier. iii unuKtiiion lo heathenism. 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act. in 



Dor. I shall do it 
Better by their example. 

Theoph. Tliev shall guide you, 
I'hey are famili;ir with the sacrifice. 
Forward, my twins of comfort, and, to teach her, 
Make a joint offering. 

Christ. Thus [theu both spit at the image, 

Cal. And tlius throw it down, and spurn it. 

Harp. Profane, 
And impious ! stand you now like a statue? 
Are yuu the champion of the gods ? where is 
Your holy zpal, your anger? 

Theoph. I am blasted ; 
And, as my feet were rooted liere, I find 
I have no motion ; I would I h;id no sight too ! 
Or if my eyes can serve to any use*. 
Give mt>, thou injured Power! a sea of tears, 
To expiate this madness in my daughters ; 
For, being themselves, they would have trembled at 

So blasphemous a deed in any othc-r : 

For my saice, hold awhile thy dreadful thunder, 
And g-ive me patience to demand a reason 
For thii accursed act. 

Dor. ' Twas bravely done. [should look on you 

Theo h. Peace, damn'd enchantress, peace! — I 
With eyes made red with fury, and my hand, 
That sl'ukes with rage, should much outstrip my 

tongue. 
And seal my vengeance on your hearts ; — but nature, 
To you that have fallen once, bids me again 
To be a father. Oh ! how durst you tempt 
The anger of great Jove ? 

Dor. Alack, poor Jove ! 
He is no swaggerer ; how smug he stands ' 
He'll take a kick, or any thing. 

Sap. Stop her mouth. 

Dor. It is the patient'st godlingf; donot fearhim 3 
He would not hurt the thief that stole away 
Two of his golden locks ; indeed he could not • 
And still 'tis the same quiet thing 

Tlieop. Blasphemer I 
Ingenious cruelty shall punish this ; 
Thou an past hope : but for you v t\, dear daughters, 
Again bewitch 'd, the dew of niUd forgiveness 
May gently fall, provided ytu deserve it 
With true contrition : be yourselves again ; 
Sue to the offended deity. 

Christ. Not to be 
The mistress of the earth. 

Cat. 1 will not ofier 
A grain of incense to it, much less kneel. 
Nor I.wk on it but with contempt and scorn, 
fo have a thousand years conferral upon me 
Of worldly blessings. We profess ourselves 
To be, like Dorothea, Christians, 
And owe her for that happiness. 

Theop. JMy ears 
Receive, in hearing this, all deadly charms. 
Powerful to make man wretched. 

Artem. Are these they 
Ycu bragg'd could convert others ! 



«diti?brlC.r^ ^y^* '^«" serve to any use,] Tl.e modern 

,,^. '*'■ 'ff-y eys van serve to any oilier use. 

Other, Nv nch ,loslr.,y.. ;u ,„.oe ila- ... „<■ .„,| ,l,e ,en.e is 

ai.ab.,.,.l,„.e.,mlaUo.. of llK. „„«,,. ,s 16,il .,,,1 )CGI. " ' 

t Uur. U IS the ,)..liei.rsi yodlnn ; I l.,,vf inscried tl,i, 

«-..r,l a, tl.en..o„MM...,|.,i, M,. M. Mas.,... TLe ol 

copies ooiicnr i.i riailiii); ancient st. 

* b>ttforyoui,:t.] > f<. « l.kli complol«s the verse 

• oow rcitoieil lio.u ilie tiisi ed.iion. ' 



Sap. That want strength 
To stand themselves ! 

Harp. Your honour is engaged, 
The credit of your cause depends upon it ; 
Something you must do suddenly. 

Theoph. And 1 will. 

Harp. 1 hey merit death ; but, falling by your hand, 
'Twill be recorded for a just revenge, 
And holy fury i;i \ ou. 

Theoph. Do not blow 
The furnace of a wrath thrice hot already ; 
yl'.ina is in mv breast, wildfire burns here, 
Whicli only blood must quench. Incensed Power! 
Which from my infancy I have adored. 
Look down with favourable beams upon 
The sacrifice, though not allow'd thy priest, 
Which I will offer to thee , and be pleased 
(My fiery zeal inciting me to act) 
To call that justice others may style murder. 
Come, vou accurs'd, thus by the hair I drag you 
before this holy altar ; thus look ontj'ou. 
Less pitiful than tigers to their prey : 
And thus with mine own hand I take that life 
Which 1 gave to you. [A'iWs them. 

Dor. O most cruel butcher ! 

Theoph. !\Iy anger ends not here : hell's dreadful 
Receive into thy ever-open gates, [porter. 

Their damned souls, and let the Furies' whips 
On them alone be wasted ; and, when death 
Closes these eyes, 'twill be Elysium to me 
To hear their shrieks and bowlings. iMake me, Pluto, 
Thy instrument to furnish thee with souls 
Of that accursed sect ; nor let me fall, 
Till my fell vengeance hath consumed them all. 

[Exit, Harpai hugging him. 

Artem. 'Tis a brave zeal*. 

[Enter Angelo smiling. 

Dor. Oh, call him back again. 
Call back your hangman ! here's one prisoner left 
To be the subject of his knife. 

Art. Not so ; 
We are not so near reconciled unto thee ; 
Thou shall not perish such an easy way. 
]:ie she your charge, Sapritius, now ; and suffer 
None to come near her, till we have found out 
Some torments worthy of her. 

Aug. Courage, mistress, 
These martyrs but prepare your glorious fate ; 
You shall exceed them, and not imitate. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — A Room m Dorothea's House. 
Enter Spuncmus and Hincius, ragged, at opposite doors- 

Hir. Spungius ! [tattered world* ? 

Spun. My fine rogue, how is' it? how goes this 

Hir. Hast any money ? 

Spun. INIoney ! No, The tavern ivy clings about 
my money, and kills it. Hast thou any money! ? 

Hir. No. ftly money is a mad bull; and finding 
any gap opened, away it runs. 

* Alien, "/'is a brave zeal] Tlie fust two qiiai ins have 
a slas-e diiccli 11 liiie, wliiili Cnxeler and M. Mason lol- 
low: Enter Arteinia lauyhinij. Bnt Aiitniia coniimus on 
llie st.ii;i' : tliufin-r «a.s Men and removed bj ilie quarto 
1051, «ldcli leads as I liave i;iven it. 

t ■ how (joes this tatti red world? These odion 

wreti-lies- 1)111 thev ale Hot Woilh a line. Mr. 1\1 alone ob- 
serves lli.il tattered i^ s|ielt witli an o in llie old ediil^iis o| 
Sliak»|ieaii' : lliis is llie lirsi oitpoiiiiiiily I have haii ft 
iiienlioiiiin;, ih.il Massinuei eonl'iims 10 ilie s.)ine |iriirliee 
The iiiodeii. elilois s..inelinies adopt one mode of i-pilliiiR 
it, and soinetimes anoiher, as if Ibe woids were dillereutl 
It 1.1 best to be uiiitoiiii. 



Scene III.] 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



19 



Spun. I see then a tavern and a bawdy-house liave 
faces much alike ; the one hath red grates next tlie 
door, the other hath peeping- holes within- doors : 
the tavern hath evermore a bush, the bawdy-house 
sometimes neither hedge nor busli. From a tavern 
man comes reeling ; from a bawdy-house, not able 
to stand In the tavern you are cozen'd with paltry 
wine ; ni a bawdy-house, by a painted whore : money 
may have wine, and a whore will have money ; but 
to neithpr can you cry, Drawer, you rogue ! or, 
Keep door, rotten bawd ! without a silver whistle : — 
We are justly plagued, therefore, for running from 
our mistress. 

Hit: Thou didst ; I did not : Yet I liad run too, 
but that one gave me turpentine pills, and that staid 
my running, 

Spun. Well ! the thread of my life is drawn through 
the needle of necessity, whose eye, looking upon my 
lousy breeches, cries out it cannot mend them ; which 
so jjricks the linings of my body (and those are, 
heirt, lights, lungs, guts, and midriff), that I beg 
on my knees, to have Atropos, tlie tailor to the Des- 
tinies, to take her sheers, and cut my thread in two, 
or to heat the iron goose of mortality, and so press 
me to death. 

Hir. Sure thy father was some botcher, and thy 
hungry tongue bit off these shreds of complaints, to 
patch up the elbows of tliy nitty eloquence. 

Spun. And what was thy father? 

Hir. A low-minded cobler, a cobler whose zeaHet 
many a woman upright ; the remembrance of whose 
awl (^ 1 now having notliing)thrust5 such scurv vs'itches 
into my soul, that the heel of my happiness is gone 
Dwrv. 

Spun. Pity that e'er thou trod'st thy shoe awry. 

//(';-. Long I cannot last ; for all sowterlv vvax of 
comfort melting away, and misery taking the length 
of my foot. It boot.s not me to sue for life, when all 
my hopes are seam-rent, and go wet-sliod. 

Span. This shews thou art a cobler's son, by going 
through stitch : O Hircius, would thou and I were 
so happy to be coblers ! 

Hh: So would I ; for both of us being weary of 
our lives, should then be sure of shoemakers' ends. 

Spun. I see the beginning of my end, for I am 
almost starved. 

Hir. So am not I ; but I am more than famish'd. 

Spun. All the members in my body are in a re- 
bellion one against another. 

///)•. So are mine ; and nothing but a cook, being 
a constable, can appease them, presenting to my nose 
instead of his painted staff", a spit full of roast meat. 

Spun. But in this rebellion, what uproars do they 
make ! my belly cries to my mouth, Why dost not 
gape and feed me ? 

Hir. And my mouth sets out a throat to my hand. 
Why (lost not thou hft up meat, and cram mv chops 
with it ? 

Spun. Tlien my hand hath a fling at mine eyes 
because they look not out, and shark for victuals. 

Hir. Which mine eyes seeing, full of tears, cry 
aloud, and curse my feet, for not ambling up and 
down to feed colon, sithence if good meat be in any 
place, 'tis known my feet can smell. 

Sp.m. But then my feet, like lazy rogues, lie still, 
and iiad rutlier do nothing, than run to and fro to 
purchase any thing. 

H(r. V\ by, among so many millions of peoyjle, 
should thou and I only be miserable tatterdema'h.ms, 
rogamulhns, and louiy desperates ? 



>pun. 



Thou art a mere 1-ain-an-o, I-am-an-as : 
consider the whole world, and 'tis as we are. 

Hir. Lousy, beggarly ! tliou whoreson assa foptida? 

Sfiun. Worse ; all tottering, all out of frame, thou 
fooliamini ! 

Hir. As how, arsenic'! c^me, cnake the world 
smart. 

Spun. Old honour goes on crutches, beggary rides 
caroched ; honest men make feasts, knaves sit at 
tables, cowards are lapp'd in velvet, soldiers (as we) 
in rags ; beauty turns whore, whore, bawd, and both 
die of the pox : why then, when all the world 
stumbles, should thou and I walk upright ? 

Hir. Stop, look ! who's y.nnder ' 

Enter Anoelo. 

Spun. Fellow Angelo ! how does my little man, 

A7ig. Yes ; [well ? 

And would you did so, too. Where are your clothes? 

Hir. Clothes ! You see every woman almost go 
in her loose gown, and why should not we have our 
clothes loose ? 

Spun. Would they were loose ! 

Ang. Why, where are they? 

Spun. Where many a velvet cloak, I warrant, at 
this hour, keeps them company ; they are pawned 
to a broker. 

Ang. Why pawn'd ? where 's all the gold I left 
with you ? 

Hir. The gold ! we put that into a scrivener's 
hands, and he hath cozened us. 

Spun. And therefore, I prithee, Angelo, if thou 
hast another purse, let it be confiscate, and brought 
to devastation. [way 

Ang. Are you made all of lies ? I know which 
Your guilt-wing'd pieces flew. I will no more 
Be mockt by you : be sorry for your riots. 
Tame your wild flesh by labour ; eat the bread 
Got with hard hands ; let sorrow be your whip, 
To draw drops of repentance from your heart : 
When I read this amendment in your eyes. 
You shall not want ; till then, my pity dies. [Exit. 

Spun. Is it not a shame, that this scurvy puerilis 
should give us lessons. 

Hir. 1 have dwelt, thou know'st, a long time m 
the suburbs of conscience, and they are ever bawdy, 
but now my heart shall take a house within the 
walls of honesty. 

Enter IIarpax behind. 

Spun, you drawers of wine, draw me no mor« 
to the bar of beggary ; the sound of score a pottle of 
sack, is worse than the noise of a scolding oyster- 
wench, or two cats incorporating. 

Harp. This must not be — I do not like when 
conscience [teio. 

Thaws ; keep her frozen still. How now, my mas- 
Dejected ? drooping? drown 'd in tears? clothes 
torn ? [wind 

Lean, and i'.l colour'd ? sighing ? where's the whirl- 
Whicli raises all these mischiefs ? I have seen you 
Drawn better on't. O ! but a spirit told me 
You both would come to this, when in you thrust* 
Yourselves into the service of that lady, [praying? 
Who shortly now must die. Where's now her 



• ivh-n in t/ott thruat. In, which roiiipU-tis the 

vir*f, was 1)111 iitrd by Mr. M. M^si;n, Iniiii an opinion 
(jerliaps lli.ti i! \v,i< smu'i Itiioii.s to i1k- sin .■. Bin lliis \\»a 
llie I.iiigiiafif of lli» tinges: lor llie jcM, this ttlmlu act if 
most card ■s^ly piiniei by tiitr li't iMiiiors. 



20 



THE VIRGm-MARTYR. 



[Act. Ill 



What good got you by wearing out your feet, 
To run on scurvy errands to the poor. 
And to bear money to a sort* of rogue 
And lousy prisoners '. 

Hir. Pox on tliem ! I never prospered since I did 
it. 

Spun. Had I been a pagan still, I should not 
Lave spit white for want of drink ; but come to any 
vintner now, and bid him trust me, because 1 turned 
Christian, and he cries, Poh ! 

Harp. I'ou're riglitly served ; before that peevishf 
lady 
Had to do witli you, women, wine and money 
Flow'd in abundance with you, did it not? 

Hir. Oh, those daj's ! those days! 

Harp. Beat not your breasts, tear not your hair 
in madness ; 
Those days shall come again, be ruled by me, 
And better, mark me, better. 

Spun. I have seen you, sir, as I take it, an attendant 
on the lord 'Iheophilus. 

Harp. Yei, yes ; in shew bis servant; but hark, 
Take lieed no-body listens. [hither ! — 

Spun. Not a mouse stirs. 

Harp. 1 am a prince disguised. 

Hir. Disguiseit ! how ? drunk 1 

Harp Yes, my fine boy ! I'll drink too, and be 
I am a prince, and any man by me, [drunk ; 

Let him but keep mv rules, shall soon grow rich, 
Exceeding rich, most infinitely rich : 
He that shall serve me, is not starved from pleasures 
As other poor knaves are ; no, take their lill. 

Spun. But that, sir, we're so ragged 

Harp. You'll say, you'd serve me ? 

Hir. Before any master under the zodiac. 

Harp, for clotiies no matter ; I've a mind to both. 
And one thing I like in you ; now that you see 
The bonfire of your lady's slate burnt out. 
You give it over, do you not? 

Hir. Let her be hang'd ! 

Spun. And pox'd ! 

Harp. Why, now you're mine; 
Come, let my bosom touch you. 

Spun. We have bugs, sir. 

Harp. There's money, fetch your clothes home ; 
there's for you. 



• And to bear money to a fort of rogufs,&.(..] Or, as we 
sliouM now s,A\ — to a set, or parcel of rogues. Tlie word 
occurs so frequently in this sense, in our old writers, tbat it 
icenis almost unnecessary to give any examples of it : 
" Here are a sort of poor petitioners. 
That are importunate." Spanish Trayedy. 

Again : 

" Ami, like a sort of true born scavengers, 
Scour me tliis famous realm of enemies." 

Kniyht of the Buminy Pestle. 
(This word, wilh a similar.meanini^ to that here intended, 
frequently occurs in Shakspeare, as " But they can see a 
tort of Traitors here." — Richard, II. 

Again in Pichard III. "a sort o( \agabon(ls, rascal', and 
runaways." — Kd). 

t before that peevish lady 

Had to do with ymi,] Peevish is foolish ; thns, in the 
Merry Hives of II iiidsor, Mrs. Quickly says of her fellow- 
servant, " His worst fault is, that he is jjiven to prayer; he 
i» someiliing ^ferii/i ihat way." Mr Malone thinks this to 
he one of dame Qnickly's blunders, and that she means to 
»ay precise: but I believe he is mistaken. In Hycke 
Scomer, the word is used in the very sense here given : 
' For an I sliolde do alter your scole 
To learn lo paler to iiial-e me prvysse." 
Again, in God's tierenye ayainst Adultery ; " Albemare 
kept a man-fool of smue loriy yeais old in his house, who 
ijicited was so nanrAXy peevish, as not Milan, haidly Italy, 
could Diatch him for siiuplicity." 



Hir. Avoid, vermin ! give over our mistress ! 
man cannot prosper worse, if he serve the devil. 

Harp. How ! the devil 1 I'll tell you what now of 
the devil. 

He's no such horrid creature ; cloven-footed 
Black, saucer-eyed, his nostrils breatljing fire. 
As these lying Christians make him. 

Both. No! 

Harp. He's more loving 
To man, than man to man is*. 

Hir. Is he so? Would we two might con.« 
acquainted with liim! 

Harp. You shall: he's a wondrous good ^ellow, 
loves a cup of wine, a whore, any thing; if you 
have money, it's ten to one but I'll bring liim .to 
him. 
some tavern to you or other. 

Spun. I'll bespeak the best room in the house foi 

Harp. Some people he cannot endure. 

Hir. We'll give him no such cause. 

Harp. He hates a civil lawyer, as a soldier does 
peace. 

Spun. How a commoner t? 

Harp. Loves him from the teetli outward. 

Spun. Pray, my lord ai;d prince, lei me encounter 
you with one foolish question : does the devil eat 
any mace in his broth ? 

Harp. Exceeding much, when his burning fever 
takes him ; and then he has the knuckles of ;'. bailiff 
boiled to his breakfast. 

Hir. Then, my lord, he loves a catchpole, does ho 
not? 

Hai-p. As a bearward doth a dog. A ciitclipole ' 
he hath sworn, if ever he dies, to make a Serjeant his 
heir, and a yeoman his overseer. 

Spun. How if he come to any great man's gate, 
will the porter let him come in, sir? 

Hai-p. Oh ! he loves porters of great men's gates 
because they are ever so near the wicket. 

Hir. Do not they whom he makes much on, for 
all his streaking their cheeks, lead hellish lives 
under him ? 

Harp. No, no, no, no ; he will be damn'd before 
he hurts any man : do but you (when you are 
throughly acquainted with him) ask for any thing, 
see if it does not come. 

Spun. Any thing ! 

Harp. Call for a delicate rare whore, she is brought 
you. 

Hir. Oh! my elbow itches. Will the devil keep 
the door? 

Harp. Be drunk as a beggar, he helps you home. 

Spun. O my fine devil ! some watchman, I war- 
rant ; I wonder w'ho is his constable. 

Harp. Will you swear, roar, sjvagger? he claps 
you 

Hir. How ? on the chaps ? 

Harp. No, on the shoulder ; and cries, 0, my 
brave boys! Will any of you kill a man? 

Spun. Yes, yes ; 1, I. 

Harp. What is his word? Hang! hang! tis 
nothing. — Or stab a woman? 

' Harp. He's more loriny 

To man, thaji man to man is.\ Though tliis Inurid pros- 
tituliun of that hue sentiment in Juvenal, C'arior est illia 
homo qiiam sibi, may not be altogither out of character for 
the speaker ; it were to be wished it had not been employed. 
To say the truth, the whole ol Ihis scene, more especially 
what yet remains of it, is as foi.lish as it is proHmate. 

t .Spun. Hotv a commoner /] That is a common lawyer. 
M. Mason. 



Scene I.] 



THE VIRG1N-I\1.\RTYR. 



fl 



Hir. Yps, 3-es; T. I. 

Harp. Here is the worst word he gives you: A 
pox on't, go on ! 

Hir. O inveigling rascal ! — I am ravish 'd. 

Harp. Go, get your clothes ; turn up your glass 
of youth, 
And let the sands run merrily ; nor do I care 
From what a lavish hand your money flies. 
So you give iione away to beggars 

Hir. Hang them ! 

Harp. And to the scrubbing poor. 

Hir. I'll see them hang'd first. 

Harp. One service you must do me. 

Both. Any thing. 

Harp. Your mistress, Dorothea, ere she suffers. 
Is to be put to tortures : have you hearts 



To tear her into shrieks, to fetch her soul 
Uj) in tlie pangs of death, yet not to die ? 

Hir. Suppose this she. and that 1 had no hands, 
here's my teeth. 

Spun. Suppose this she, and that I had no teeth, 
here's my nail*. 

Hir. But will not you be there, sir? [master 

Harp. No, not for hills of diamonds; the grand 
Who schools her in the Christian discipline. 
Abhors my company : should I be there, [quarrel 
You'd think all hell broke loose, we should so 
Ply you this business ; he, her flesh who spares, 
Is lost, and in my love never more shares. [Exit, 

Spun. Here's a master, you rogue ! 

//(')•. Sure he cannot choose but have a horrible 
number of servants. [Exeunt. 



ACT IV 



; SCENE l.—The Governor's Palace. 

Antoninus sick, with Doctors about him ; 
SArRiTius and Macrinus. 

Sap. O you, that are half gods, lengthen that life 
Their deities lend us ; turn o'er all the volumes 
Of your m3"sterious /Esculapian science, 
T' increase the number of this young man's days ; 
And, for each minuie of his time prolong'd. 
Your fee shall be a piece of Roman gold 
With Caesar's stamp, such as he sends his captains 
When in the wars ihev earn well : do but save him, 
And, as he's half myself, be you all mine. [hand 

Doct. What art can do, we promise ; physic's 
As apt is to destrov as to preserve. 
If heaven make not the med'cine : all this while, 
Our skill hath combat held with his disease ; 
But 'tis so arm'd, and a deep melancholy, 
To be such in part with death*, we are in fear 
The grave must mock our labours. 

Mac. I have been 
His keeper in this sickness, with such eyes 
As I have seen my mother watch o'er me ; 
And, from that observation, sure I find 
It is a midwife must deliver .him. 

Sap. Is he with child 1 a midwife f ! 

Mac. Yes, with child ; 
And will, I fear, lose life, if by a woman 
He is not brou;^ht to bed. Stand by his pillow 
Some little while, and in his broken slumbers, 
Him shall you he^tr cry out on Dorothea ; 
And, when his arms fly open to catch her. 
Closing together, he falls fast asleep. 
Pleased with embracings of her airy form. 
Physicians but torment him, his disease 
Laughs at their gibberish language ; let him hear 
The voice of Dorothea, nay, but the name, 
He starts up with high colour in his face: 



• To he such in part with dcath,'> Mr. M. Mason read?, 
after Coxetir, 7 o such in part with death, and explains it 
to mean " To such a de<;rie." 1 doubt \vhether he under- 
stood his o«ii cx()liinalion or not. The genuine reading, 
which 1 have restored, takes away all ditliculty fro. 11 the 
passage. 

t S; V. Is hr with chid? a midwife! The modern 
editort read, A midwife' is he with child? Had they no 



She, or none, cures him ; and how that can be. 
The princess' strict command, barring that happiness, 
To me impossible seems. 

Sap. To me it shall not : 
I'll be no subject to the greatest Ca?sar 
Was ever crown'd with. laurel, rather than cease 
To be a father. [Erit 

Mac. Silence, sir, be wakes. 

Avton. Thou kill'st me, Dorothea; oh , Dorothea ! 

Mac. Site's here : — enjoy her. 

Anton. Where? \\ by do you mock me ? 
Age on my head hath stuck no white hairs yet. 
Yet I am an old man, a fond doating fool 
Upon a woman. I, to buy her beautj', 
(In truth I am bewitch 'd,) offer my life. 
And she, for my acquaintance, hazards hers ; 
Yet, for our equal sufferings none holds out 
A liand of pity. 

Doct. Let him have some music. 

Anton. Hell on your fiddling! 

Doct. Take again your bed, sir , 
Sleep is a sovereign physic. 

Anton. Take an ass's head, sir : 
Confusion on your fooleries, your charms ! — 
Thou stinking clyster-pipe, where's the god of rest. 
Thy pills and base apothecary drugs 
Threaten 'd to bring unto me ? Out, you impostors ! 
Quacksalving, cheating mountebanks ! your skill 
Is to make sound men sick, and sick men kill. 

Mac. Oh, be yourself, dear friend. 

Anton. jMyself, Macrinus! 
How can I be myself when I am mangled 
In o a thousand pieces 1 here moves my head, 
l^ut where's my heart? wherever — that lies c!ead. 

Re-enter SAritiTius, dragging in Dorothea by ths 
hair, Angelo attending. 

Sap. Follow me, tliou damn'd sorceress ! call up 
thy spirits. 
And, if they can, now let them from my h ii d 
Untwine these witching hairs. 

Anton. I am that spirit : 
Or, it I be not, were you not my father, 
One made of iron should hew that hand in pieces, 
Tlat so defaces this sweet monument 
Of my love's beauty. 

SaD. Art thou sick ? 



fS 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act IV 



Anton. To death. 

Sap. Wouldst thou recover ? 

Anton. Would I live in bliss ! 

Sap. And do thine eyes shoot daggers at that man 
That brings thee health? 

Anton. It is not in the world. 

Sap. It's here. 

Anton. To treasure*, by enchantment lock'd 
In caves as deep as hell, am 1 as near. 

Sap. Break that enchanted cave ; enter, ani rifle 
The spoils thy lust hunts after ; I descend 
To a base office, and become thy pander, 
Tn bringing thee this proud thing : make her thy 

whore, 
Thy health lies here ; if she deny to give it. 
Force it: imagine thou assault'st a town's 
Weak wall ; to't 'tis thine own, but beat this down. 
Come, and, unseen, be witness to this battery 
How the cov strumpet yields f. 

Doct. Shall the boy stay, sir? 

Sap No matter for the boy : — pages are used 
To these odd bauwdy shufflings ; and, indeed, are 
'J'hose little young snakes in a fury's head. 
Will sting- worse than tlie great ones. 
Let the pimp stay. [^Exeunt Sap. Mac. ai.d Doct. 

Dor. O, guard me, angels ! 
What tragedy must begin now? 

Anton. When a tiger 
Leaps into a timorous herd, with ravenous jaws. 
Being Imnger-starved, what tragedy then begins ? 

Dor. Death : I am happy so; you, hitherto. 
Have .still had goodness sphered within your eyes. 
Let not that orb be b oken J. 

Ang. Fear not, mistress ; 
If he dare offer violence, we two 
Are strong enough for such a sickly "man. 

Dor. VVhat is your horrid purpose, sir ? your eye 
Bears danger in it. 

Anton. I must 

Dor. What? 

Sap. [within.] Speak it out. 

Anton. Climb that sweet virgin tree. 

Sap. [icilhin.] Plague o' your trees. 

Anton. And pluck that fruit wliich none, I think, 
e'er tasted. 
Sap. \_irithin.] A soldier, and stand fumbling so! 

Dor. Oh, kill me, [^kneels. 

And heaven will take it as a sacrifice ; 
Uut, if you play the ravisher, there is 
A liell to swallow you. 

Sap. [uithin.] Let her swallow thee ! 

Anton. Rise : — for the Roman empire, Dorothea, 
1 would not wound thine honour. Pleasures forced 
Are unripe apples ; sour, not worth the plucking : 
Yet, let me tell you, 'tis my father's will. 
That I should seize upon you, as my prey ; 



• Ant. To treasure, &c.] Thin U the emendation of Mr. 
M. Ma.son. It appeais a happy substitution for the old 
reading, which was, () treasure, &c. 

i Come, and, unseen, be witness to this battery 

How the coy strumpet yields.] These two lines are ad- 
dresscil to Macriiins and the doctors. M. Mason. 

$ you, hitherto. 

Have stitl had goodness spar'd within your eyes, 

Let not that orb be broken. , The word orb in this last 
line proves that we should read sphered instead of spar'd ; 
the Littei, indeed, made the passage nonsense, which is novr 
very poetical. M. Mason. 

Mr. M. Mason is somewhat rash in his assertion : sparred, 
it iky,t up, inclosed, it is not therefore nonsense. 1 have, 
however, adopted bis emeudatiuo, which, if uot ia<l, is a: 
least in;:eiiioUA. 



Wliich I abhor, as much as the blackest sin 
The villainy of man did ever act. 

[Sapritius breaks in with Ma«T'nu». 
Ang. Die happy for this language. 
Sap. Die a slave 
A blockish idiot ! 

Mac. Dear sir, vex him not. [geldings : 

Sap. Yes, and vex thee too ; both, I think, are 
Cold, phlegmatic bastard, thou'rt no brat of mine; 
One spark of me, when I had heat like thine. 
By this had made a bonfire : a tempting whore, 
For whom thou'rt mad, thrust e'en into thine arras, ■ 
And stand'st thou puling! had a tailor seen her 
At this advantage, he, with his cross capers 
Had ruflfled her by this : but thou shalt curse 
Thy dalliance*, and here, before her eyes, 
Tear thy own flesh in pieces, when a slave 
In hot lust bathes himself, and gluts those pleasures 
Thy niceness durst not touch. Call out a slave; 
You, captain of our guard, fetch a slave hither. 
Anton. What will you do, dear sir? [learn 

Sap. Teach her a trade, which many a one would 
In less than half an hour, — to play the whore. 

Enter A Slave. 

Mac. A slave is come; what now? 

Sap. Thou hast bones and flesh 
Enough to ply thy labour : from what country 
W^ert thou ta'en prisoner, here to be our slave; 

Slave. From Britain. 

Sap. In the west ocean ? 

Slave, Yes. 

Sap. An island? 

Slave. Yes. 

Sap. I'm fitted: of all nations 
Our Roman swords e'er conquered, none comes near 
The Briton for true whoring. Sirrah fellow. 
What wouldst thou do to gain thy liberty? 

Slave. Do! liberty ! fight naked wth a lion, 
Venture to pluck a standard from the heart 
Of an arm'd legion. Liberty! I'd thus 
Bestride a rampire, and defiance spit 
r the face of death, then, when the battering-ram 
Was fetching his career backward, to pash 
Me with his horns in pieces. To sbake my chainsoff. 
And that I could not do't but by thy death, 
Stood'st thou on this dry shore, I on a rock 
Ten pyramids high, down wQuld I leap to kill thee, 
Or die myself: what is for man to do 
I'll venture on, to be no more a slave. [tbe* 

Sap. Thou shalt, then, be no slave, for I will sst 
Upon a piece of work is fit for man. 
Brave for a Briton ; — drag that thing aside, 
And ravish her. 

Slave. And ravisli her ! is this your manly service f 
A devil scores to do it ; 'tis for a beast, 
A villain, not a man : I am as yet, 
But half a slave; but when that work is past, 
A damned whole one, a black ugly slave, 
The slave of all base slaves : — do't thyself, Roman, 
_'Tis drudgery fit for thee. 

Sap. He's bewitch'd too : 
Bind him, and with a bastinado give him. 
Upon his naked belly, two hundred blows. 

Slave. Thou art more slave than I. 

, [He is carried in. 

• —but thou shalt curse 

Thy dalliance,] i. e. tliy liesitation, ihy delay : 

" (Joo I l.Mtl ! yoii use this dalliance to excnse 
Your bleach of promise." Comedy of Error* 



Scene II.J 



THE VIRGIN MARTYR. 



99 



Dor. That power supernal, on whom waits my 
Is captain o'er my chastity. [soul, 

Anton. Good sir, give o'er : 
Tliemore you wrons>: lier, yourselfs vex'd, the more. 

Sap. I'lagues liglit on her and thee ! — thus down 
I til row 
'J'hy harlo*. thus by the hair nail her to earth. 
Call in ten slaves, let every one discover 
Wliat lust desires, and surfeit here his fill. 
Call ii ten slaves. 

Mac*. They are come sir, at vour call. 

Sap. Oh, oil ! [Falls down. 

Enter Theopiiilus. 

Theoph. Where is the governor? 

Anton. There's my wretched father. 

Theoph. My lord Sapritius — he's not dead ! — my 
That witch tliere ■ [lord: 

Anton. 'Tis no Roman gods can strike 
These fearful terrors. O, thou happy maid, 
Forgive this wicked purpose of my father. 

Dor. I do. 

Theoph. Gone, gone ; he's peppered. It is thou 
Hast done this act infernal. 

Dor. Heaven pardon you ! 
And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance down, 
(1 can no miracles work) yet, from my soul. 
Pray to those powers I serve, he may recover. 

Theoph. He stirs — help, raise him up, — my lord! 

Sap. Where am I ? 

Theoph. One cheek ig blasted. 

Sap. Blasted! where's the lamia t 
That Tears my entrails ? I'm bewitch'd ; seize on her. 

Dor. I'm here; do what you please. 

Theoph. Spurn her to the bar. [we are. 

Dc-. Come, boy, being there, more near to heaven 

Sap Kick harder; go out witch! [Exeunt. 

Anton. bloody hangmen! Thine own gods give 
tliee breath ! 
Each of thy tortures in my several death. [Exit. 



\ SCENE 11.—^ Public Square, 

Enter Hahpax, Hincius, and Spungius. 

Harp. Do you like my service now? say, am not I 
A master worth attendance ? 

Spun. Attendance!' I had rather lick clean the 
soies'of your dirty boots, than wear the richest suit 
of any infected lord, wh.ise rotten life hangs between 
the two poles, 

Hir A lord's suit! I would not give up the cloak 
of your service, to meet the splayfoot estate of any 
left-eyed knight above the antipodes ; because they 
are unlucky to meet. 

Harp. This day I'll tryj-our loves to me ; 'tis only 
But well to use the agility of vour arms 

Spmi. Or legs, I am lusty at them. 

Hir. Or any other member that has no legs. 

Spun. Thou'lt run into some hole. 

Hir. If I meet one that's more tlian my match, 
and tliat I cannot stand in their hands, 1 must and 
will creep on my knees. * [me, 

Harp. Hear me, my little team of villians, hear 
I cannot teach you fencing with tl*ese cudgels, 



* Mac. They are come, &c.' The nlci oopies give this 
ipeoch to Aii^elo: ii iS; however, so pdl|i,tble an error, that 
the eiiieiidiiiiou which 1 have iutruduced icquires uo 
•poioi^y. 

'I Lamia, LAT. Angc. hag. 



Vet you must use them ; lay them on but soundly j 
That's all. 

Hir. Nay, if we come to mauling once, pah ! 

Spun. But what walnut-tree is it we must beat ? 

Harp. Your mistress. 

Hir. How ! my mistress?- I begin to have a 
Christian's heart made of sweet butter, I melt ; I 
cannot strike a woman. 

Spun. Nor I, unless she scratch ; bum my mis- 
tress ! 

Harp. You're coxcombs, silly animals. 

Hir. What's that ? £thrusl 

Harp. Drones, asses, blinded moles, that dare not 
Your arms out to catch fortune ; say, you fall off. 
It must be done. You are converted rascals. 
And, tliat once spread abroad, why every slave 
Will kick you, call you motley Christians, 
And half-faced Christians. 

Spun. Tlie guts of my conscience begin to be of 
whit leather. 

Hir, I doubt me, I shall have no sweet butter in 
me. [meet. 

Harp. Deny this, and each pagan* whom you 
Shall forced fingers thrust into your eyes • 

Hir. If we be cuckolds^ [to. 

Harp. Do this, and every god the Gentiles bow 
Shall add a fathom to your line of years. 

Spun. A hundred fathom, I desire no more. 

Hir, I desire but one inch longer. 

Harp, The senators will, as you pass along. 
Clap you upon your shoulders with this hand. 
And with this give you gold : when you are dead, 
Happy that man shall be, can get a nail. 
The paring, — nav, the dirt under the nail, 
Of any of you. both, to say, this dirt 
Belong'd to Spungius or Hircius. 

Spun. They shall not want dirt under my naiU, I 
will keep them long of purpose, for now my tingera 
itch to be at her. 

Hir. The first thing I do, I'll take her over the 
lips. 

Spun, And 1 the hips, — we may strike any where 

Harp. Yes, any where. 

Hir. Then I know where I'll hit her. 

Harp. Prosper, and be mine own ; stand by, I 
must not ' 
To see this done, great business calls me hence : 
He's made can make her curse his violence. [Exit. 

Spun, f^ear it not, sir ; her ribs shall be basted. 

Hir. I'll come upon her with rounce, robble-hob- 
ble, and th wick-thwack thirlery bouncing. 

Enter DonoTHFA. led prisoner; Sapritius, TnEOPm- 
Lus, Anoelo, and a Hangman, who sets up a Pillar ; 
Sapritius and TuEOiniii.vs sit; AycEi.o stands bif 
DonoTiiEA. A Guard attending. 

Sap. According to our Roman customs, bind that 
Christian to a pillar. 

Theoph. Infernal Furies, 
Could they into mv hand thrust all their whips 
To tear thy flesh, tliy soul, 'tis not a torture 
Fit to the vengeance I should heap on thee. 
For wrongs done me ; me ! for flagitious facts 
By thee done to our gods : yet, so it stand 
To great Ca;t^area's governor's high pleasure. 
Bow but thy knee to Jupiter, and offer 

• and each pagan.] So «he first two qiiaitos, 

last reads every : which-, as ii mars tlie verse, is tollowixl 
the iiioderu edicurs. [ Oiniited in Edit. ISia-]— Uu. 



n 



THE VJRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act IV 



Any slig-ht sacrifice, or do but swear 
By Ceesar's fortune, and be free. 

Sap. '1 hou sliiilt. 

Dor. Not for all Cffsar's fortune, were it chain'd 
To more worlds than are kingdoms in the world, 
And all those worlds drawn after liim. 1 defy 
Your hangmen ; you now show me whither to fly. 

Sap. Are her tormentors ready? 

Ang. Shrink not, dear mistress. 

Spun and Hir. My lord, we are ready for the 
business. 

Dor. You two ! whom I like foster 'd children fed, 
And lengthened out your starved life with bread : 
You be my hangmen ! whom, when up the ladder 
Death haled you to he strangled, I fetch'd down. 
Clothed you, and warm'd you, you two my tormen- 

Both. \es, we. [tors ! 

Dor. Divine Powers pardon you* ! 

Sap. Strike. 

[T/iei/ strike at her. Ancelo kneeling holds her fast. 

Theoph. Beat out her brains. 

Dor. Receive me, you bright angels ! 

Sap. Faster, slaves. 

Spun. Faster ! I am out of breath, I am sure ; if I 
were to beat a buck f, I can strike no harder. 

Hir. mine arms ! I cannot lift them 'o my head. 

Dor. Joy above joys ! are mv tormentors weary 
In torturing me, and, in my sufferings, 
I fainting in no limb ! tyrants, strike home, 
And feast your fury full. 

Theoph, These dogs are curs, 

[^Comes from his seat. 
Which snarl, yet bite not. See, my lord, her lace 
Has more bewitching beautj' than before : 
Proud whore, it smiles X ! cannot an eye start out 
With these? 

Hir. No, sir. nor the bridge of her nose fall ; 'tis 
full of iron work. [feit 

Sap. Let's view the cudgels, are they not counter- 

Ang. There fix thine eye still ; — thy glorious 
crown must come 
Not from soft pleasure, but by martyrdom, 
Tliere fix thine eye still ; — when we next do meet. 
Not thorns, but roses, shall bear up thy feet : 
ITiere fix thine eye still. [Eiit. 

Enter Hari-ax sneaking. 
Dor. Ever, ever, ever ! 

Theoph. We're mock'd ; these bats have power to 
fell down giants. 
Yet her skin is not scarr'd. 
■Sap. What rogues are these ? 
Theoph. Cannot these force a shriek ? 

[^Beats Spungius. 
Spun. Oh ! a woman has one of my ribs, and now 
five more are broken. 

Theoph. Cannot this make her roar ? 

l^Beats Hircius ; he roars. 
Sap. Who hired these slaves ? what are they ? 



• Dor. Divine Powers pardon yon] I know not whether 
bv iiiadverunto or design ; but M. Mason, in opposition to 
all the editions, reads, Divine Powers, pardon me ! 

* If I were to beat a buck, / can strike no harder.} To 
WcA, Johnson says, " is to wash cloilies." This is but a 
!»me explanation vf the term : to buchii to wash chiihes by 
laying; them <m a smooth stone, and beating tlieni with a 
pole llattened at the end. 

*: Proud whore, it smiles.'] So the old copies ; the modern 
editors read, fh? smiles. In every page, and almost in every 
•pccch, I have had to reii.ove these imaginary improveinent« 
Of tke author's phraseology. 



Spun. We serve that noble gentleman*, there; he 
enticed us to this dry beating: oh! for one half pot. 

Harp. ]My servants ! two base rogues, and some- 
time servants 
To her, and for that cause forbear to hurt her. 

Sap. Unbind her, hang up these. 

Theojh. Hang the two hounds on the next tree. 

Hir. Hang us ! master Harpax, what a devil, 
shall we be thus used ? [a woman. 

Harp. What bandogs but you two would worry 
Your mistress \ I but clapt you, you flew on. 
Say I shoixld get your lives, each rascal beggar 
Would, when he met you, cry out Hell-liounds ! 

traitors i 
Spit at you, fling dirt at you ; and no woman 
Ever endure your sight : 'tis your best course 
Now, had you secret knives, to stab yourselves; 
But, since \ou have not, go and be hang'd. 

Hir. I thank you. 

Harp. 'Tis your best course. 

Theoph. Why stay they trifling here? 
To th' gallows drag them by the lieels ; — away. 

Spun. By the heels ! no, sir, we have legs to do 
us that service. 

Hir. Ay, ay, if no woman can endure my sight, 
away witli me. 

Harp. Dispatch them. 

Spun. The devil dispatch thee! 

[E.ie»;i/ Guard with Spungius and Hircius. 

Sap. Death this day rides in triumph, Theophilus. 
See this witch made away too. 

Theoph. My soul tliirsts for it. 
Come, I myself the hangman's part could play. 

Dor. O haste me to my coronation day! 

lEiieunL. 



SCENE lU\.—The Place of Execution. A scaffold, 
block, 3fc. 

Enter Antoninus, Macrinus, and Servants 

A7iton. Is this the place where virtue is to suffer, 
And heavenly beauty leaving this base earth. 
To make a glad return from whence it came ? 
Is it, Macrinus ? 

Mac. By this preparation. 
You well may rest assured that Dorothea 
This hour is to die here. 

Anton. Then with her dies 
The abstract of all sweetness that's in woman ! 
Set me down, friend, that, ere the iron hand 
Of death close up mine eyes, they may at once 
Take my last leave both of this light and her : 
For, she being gone, the glorious sun himself 
To me's Cimmerian darkness. 

Mac. Strange affection| ! 



* Spun, ff V serve that noble gentleman. Sec] This is the 
lection of the tirst quarto. The modern editors follow the 
others, which incorrectly read. We serv'd, &c. 

+ From lience, to the conclusion of the act, I iccognise 
the hand of Massinger. There may be (and probably are) 
finer passages in our dramatic poets, but I am not acquainted 
with them. 
I j Mac. .Strange affection ? 

I Cupid once more hath changed his shafts with Death, 
And kills, instead of giving lift'.] This is a most beauti- 
ful allusion to a liltie poem among the Elegies of Si-cundtu. 
Cupid and Death unite in the ilestruction of a lover, and in 
endeavouring to recover their weapons from tlie body ol 
the victim, commit a mutual mistake, each plucking out the 
" shafts" of the other. The consequences of this are pret 
tily described : 

Missa puregrinis sparcunter vulnera nervis, 
Et manus ignoto sacvit utrinque raalo 



fcESE lll.J 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



i% 



Cupid once more hath changed his shafts with Death, 
And kill;, instead of giving life. 

Anton. Nay, weep not ; 
Thougli tears of friendsliip be a sovereign balm, 
On me iliey're cast awav. It is decreed 
That 1 must die with her; our clue of life 
Was sjiuri together. 

Miic. Yet, sir, 'tis my wonder. 
That vou, who, ]iearing<)nly what she suffers, 
Partake of all her tortures, yet will be. 
To add to vour calamity, an eyewitness 
Of her last tragic scene, which must pierce deeper*, 
And make the wound more desperate. 

Anton. Oh, i\lacrinus! 
'Twould linger out my torments else, not kill me, 
Wliich is the end I aim at : being to die too. 
What instrument more glorious can 1 wish for, 
Than what is made sliarp by mv constant love 
And true affection ? It may be, the duty 
And lovtil service, with which 1 pursued her. 
And seal'd it with my death, will be remember'd 
Among her blessed actions ; and what honour 
Can I desire be^'ond it ? 

Enter a Guard, bringing in Dorothea, a Headsman 

before her; followed by Tiieopiiilus, Sapmtius, 

and Harpax. 

See, she comes ; 
How sweet her innocence appears ! more like 
To heaven itself, tiian any sacrifice 
Than can be offer'd to it. By my hopes 
Of jovs hereafter, the sight makes me doubtful 
In my belief; nor can 1 think our gods 
Are good, or to be served, that take deliglit 
In offerrngs of this kind: that, to maintain 
Their power, deface the master-piece of nature, 
Whicli tliey themselves come short of. She ascends, 
And every step raises her nearer heaven. 
What god soe'er thou art, that must enjoy her. 
Receive in her a boundless happiness ! 

Sap. You are Vt blame 
To let liim come abroad. 

Mac. It was liis will ; 
And ive were left to serve him, not command him. 

Anton, (iood sir, be not offended ; nor deny 
My la-it of pleasures in this happy object. 
That I shall e'er be blest with. 

Theoph. Nnw. proud contemner 
Of us, and of our gods, tremble to think 
It is not in the Power thou serv'st lo save thee. 
Not all the riches of the sea, increased 
By violent shij)wrecks, nor the unsearch'd mines 
(IVIamraon's unknown exchequer), shall redeem thee. 
And, tlierefoie, having first with horror weigh'd 
Wliat 'tis to die, and to die young ; to part with 
All pleasures and delights; lastly, to go 
Where all antipathies to comf .rt dwell, 
Furies behind, about thee, and before thee; 
And, to add to affliction, the remembrance 

Iri'ita Mors arciis valid! niuliniina damiiat, 

PldiMt Amor tc'iKTas t.uii v.ilnisse 111.11111s ; 
FiVfialiiiil juvmes piinias in piiUuie in.tUs 

Osciili i|ii.is, liL-u, ad bl.inila vocabat Amor. 
Caiiicii.-s veinis M0reb.1t iiiiilta cuiollij 

Hcrsi-plione citnem viilsirat iiiiile sibi 
Qniil taeeieiit ! 'aUas prociil abjeccre sagittas, 

Dc pliaretiM jacnliim pnmipsit iiterque novum. 
Rfs biiii,i! -fd virus piitri iMiiclravit in arcuin; 

K\ illo inlscros tot didll ilie neci. Lib. ii. Eleg. 6. 

• wliich nwsf pierce deeper,] So the tirst editions. 

riie qn.mo Kiiil, reads, in detiaiice of metre, — «bich ninst 
th' (lef/jer pierce, and is followed by Coxetcr and M. 
Mason I 



Of the Elysian joys thou might'st have tasted, 

Hadst thou not turn'd apostata* to those gods 

That so reward their servants; let despair 

Prevent the liangnian's sword and on tliis scaffold 

Make thy first entrance into hell. 
Anton. Slie smiles 

Unmoved, by Mars! as if she were assured 

Death, looking on her constancy, would forget 

The use of his inevitable hand. 

Theoph. Derided too ! dispatch, I say. 
Dor. Thou fool ! 

Tliat gloriest in having power to ravish 
A trifle from me I am weary of: 

^Vhat is this life to me f not worth a thought; 
Or, if it be esteem 'd, 'tis that I lose it 

To win a better : even thy malice serves 

To me but as a ladder to mount up 

To such a height of Iiappiness, where I shall 

Look down with scorn on thee, and on the world j 

Where, circled with true pleasures, placed above 
The reach of death or time, 'twill be my glory 

I o think at what an easy price I bought it. 
There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth . 
No joint-benumbing cold, or scorching heat. 
Famine, nor age, hivef any being there. 
Forget, for shame, your Tempe ; bury in 
Oblivion your f'eign'd Hesperian orchards:^ 
The gold -n fruit, kept by the watchful dragon. 
Which did require a Hercules to get| it, 
Compared with what grows in all plenty ther?, 
Deserves not to be named. The Power I serve, 
Lauuhs at your happy Araby, or the 
Elysian shades, for he hath made his bowers 
Better in deed, than you can fancy yours. 
Anton. O, take me thither with you! 
Dor. Trace my steps. 
And be assured you shall. 

Sap. With my own hands 
I'll rather stop that little breath is left thee. 
And rob thy killing fever. 
Theoph. By no means ; 
Let him go with her: do, seduced young man 
.And wait upon thy saint in death ; do, do : 
And, when you come to that imagined place, 
That place of all delights — pr.iy you, observe me. 
An 1 ineetthose cursed things 1 once called Daughters, 
Whom I have sent as harbingers before you ; 

• Hadst fhou not turn'd apostata to those ynds] Our old 
writers usually said, apostata, s/a/ua, &C. w lure we now 
idy, apostate, statue. j\la>siiii;er's editors, however, wlio 
were ignorant alike of liis language and that of liis contem- 
poraries, resohilely perfist in modernizing him upon all oc- 
casions : they ren'i, apostate .' 

i have any beini/ there.] Here again, the modera 

editors follow the mistrable quarto of Iti6l, and tamely 
read— haviiis; <i«i/ beiny there— [Omitted in edit. IS13.] 

I Which did require a Hercules to get it ] The modern 
editors read, to guard it. This deviation from llie old copies 
is at the expense of sense. It was the dragon which i/Harrf«i 
it : the object of Hercules was to yet it. In almost every 
speech Ma-singer is thus injured by carelessness or igno- 
rance. It is llie more incKcnsable here, as the very same 
cxpresjion is to be fuund in the Emperor of the East. 

This beautiful description of Elysium, as Mr. Gilchrisl 
observes to me, has been imitated by Nabbes, in that very 
poetic rhapsody, .Wtfrocos»«ua/ some of the lines may b« 
given : 

" Cold there compels no use of rugged furs. 
Nor makes the mountains barren ; there's no dog 
To rage, and scorch the land. Spring's always there 
And paints the valleys: whilst a teiiiperarc air 
Sweeps tliiir embruider'rt faro with his ;urrd 6a"". 
A nd breathes perfumes : -ilieienighl doth levet ipread 
Her ebon wings; but day lis;ht's always "jere,^ 
And one bltsl season cio">vns the eternal year." 



36 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act IV 



If there be any truth in your religion, 
In thankfulness to me, that witli care hasten 
Your journey thither, pray vou send nie some 
Small pivtauce of tliat curious fruit you boast of. 

Anton. Grant that I may go with her, and I will. 

Sap. Wilt thou in thy last minute damn tliyself ! 

Theoph. The gates to hell are open. 

Vor. Know, thou tyrant. 
Thou agent for the devil, thy great master, 
Though thou art most unworthy to taste of it, 
I can. and will. 

Enter Ancf.lo, in the Angel's habit,* 

Harp. Oh ! mountains fall upon me, 
Qr iiide me in the bottom of the deep. 
Where light may never find me ! 

Theoph. What's the matter ! 

.Sap. This is prodigious, and confirms her witch- 

Theoph. Harpax, my Harpax, speak! [cralt. 

Harp. 1 dare not stay : 
Should I but hear her once more, T were lost. 
Some whirlwind snatch me from this cursed place. 
To which compared (and with what I now suffer). 
Hell's torments are sweet slumbers! [Exit. 

Sap. Follow him. 

Theoph. He is distracted, and I must not lose him. 
Thy charms upon my servant, cursed witch. 
Give thee a short reprieve. Let her not die 
Till my return. [E.reitnt Sap. and Theoph. 

Anton. She minds him not: what object 
Is her eye fix'd on ? 

Mac. I see nothing. 

Anton. .Mark her. 

Dor. Thou glorious minister of the Power I serve 
(For thou art more than mortal), is't for me, 
Poor sinner, ihou art pleased awhile to leave 
Thy iieavenly habitation, and vouchsafest. 
Though glirified. to take my servant's habit? — 
For, put off thy divinity, so look'd 
My lovely Angelo. 

Ang. Know, I am the same; 
And still the servant to your piety. 
Your zealous prayers, and pious deeds first won me 
(But 'twas by His command to whom you sent 
To guide your steps. I tried your charity, [them, 
Wiien ill a beggar's shape you took me up. 
And clothed my naked limbs, and after fed. 
As you believed, my famish'd mouth. Learn all, 
By your example, to look on the poor 
With gentle eyes ! for in such habits, often. 
Angels desire an alms f. I never left you, 
Nor will I now ; for I am sent to carry 
Your pure and innocent soul to joys eternal, 
Your martyrdom once suifer'd ; and before it. 
Ask any thing from me, and rest assured. 
You shall obtain it. 



• £'n/6r Angelo inthe Anycl's habit, &c.] It appears lliat 
AngrK) was not meant to be seen or heard by any of the 
people present, but Dorothea. In the inventory ot llie Lord 
Admiral's propirties, i;iven by Mr. Malone, is, " a loohefor 
to goe invisibell." It was probably of a light gauzy textnie, 
lUld att'orrted a sHtticient iiint to our good natured ancestors, 
not to see the character invested with it. 

t 1. earn all, 

By your exam le to look on the poor 
It ith yrntle eyes ! for in such habits, often, 
Anyels desire an alms] " He not fornellul to entertain 
stringer-; tor tlierehy some have enlertaineci angels un- 
awares." Heb. c. xiii v. 2. Heri' is also a I eantilnl allusion 
to the parl'Mg speech of the " sociable archangel " to Tobit 
and his son. 



Dm: I am largely paid 
For all my torments : since I find such grace, 
Grant that the love of this young man to me, 
Tn which he languislieth to death, maybe 
Changed to tlie love of heaven. 
. Ang. I will perform it ; 
And in that instant when the sword sets free 
Your happy sotii, his shall have liberty. 
Is there aught else ? 

Dor. For proof that I forgive 
My persecutor, who in scorn desired 
To taste of that most sacred fruit 1 go to ; 
After rny death, as sent from me, be pleased 
To give him of it. 

Ang. Willingly, dear mistress. 

Mac, I am amazed. 

Anton. 1 feel a holy fire, 
That yields a comfortable heat within me j 
I am quite alter'd from the thing I was. 
See ! 1 can stand, and go alone ; thus kneel 
To heavenly Dorothea, touch her hand 
With a religious kiss. [Kneelitig 

lie-enter S.^pritius and Theophilus. 

Sap. He is well now. 
But will not be drawn back. 

Theoph. It matters not, 
W^e can discharge this work without his help. 
But see your son. 

Sap, Villain ! 

Anton. Sir, I beseech you," 
Being so near our end?, divorce us not. 

Theoph. I'll quickly make a separation of them : 
Hast thou aught else to say ? 

Dor. Nothing, but to blame 
Thy tardiness in s-.-nding me to rest; 
My peace is made with heaven, to which my soul 
Begins to take her flight : strike, O ! strike quickly; 
And, though you are unmoved to see my death, 
Hereafter, when my story shall be read, 
As they were present now, the hearers shall 
Say this of Dorothea, with wet eyes. 
She lived a virgin, and a virgin dies. 

[Her head struck off. 

Anton. O, take my soul along, to wait on thine ! 

Mac. Your son sinks too [Antoninus sinkt. 

Sap, Already dead I 

Theoph, Die all 
That are, or favour this accursed * sect : 
I trium))h in their ends, and Avill raise up 
A hill of their dead carcasses, to o'erlook 
The Pyrenean hills, but I'll root out 
These su^jerstitious fools, and leave the world 
No name of Christian. 

[Loud music: Exit Angelo, having first laid hi* 
hand upon the mouths of Anton, and Dor. 

Sap, Ha ! heavenly music ! 

Mac, 'lis in the air. 

Theoph, Illusions of the devil, 
Wrought by some witch of her religion, 
That fain would make her death a miracle : 
It frights not me. Berause he is your son. 
Let him have burial, but let her body 
Be cast forth with contempt in some liighway, 
And be to vultures and to dogs a prey. [Eieufit. 



' That are, or favour this accursed sect :] So the old 
copies: the ino.lern e^lilors, to ailapt tlie texc to their own 
ide.is of accuracy, read : That are <>(, or favour, iscc. but 
there is no netd of alleraiion ; this mode ol expression recurs 
perpetually : add loo, that the interpolation destroys the 
metre. 



ScfcNK I.] 



Till': VIRfilN-MARIYR. 



«7 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — TiiEOPiiiLus disctnered in his Study : books 
about }iim. 

Theoph. I'st holiday, O Ca;sar, that thy servant, 
Thy provost, to see execution done 
On these base Christians in C.X'sarea, 
Should now want work ? Sleep these idolaters, 
That none are stirring? — As a curious painter, 
When lie has made some honourable piece, 
Stands oif, and with a searching eye examines 
Each colour how 'tis sweoten'd: and then hugs 
Himself for his rare workmanship — so here 
Will 1 my drolleries, and bloody landscapes. 
Long past wrapt up, unfold, to make me merry 
With shadows, now I want the substances. 
My muster-book of hell-hounds. Were the Christians, 
Whose names stand here, alive and arm'd, not Rome 
Could move upon her hinges. What I've done, 
Or shall hereafter, is not out of hate 
To poor tormented wretches *; no, I'm carried 
With violence of zeal, and streams of service 
I owe our Roman gods. Great Britain, — whatf? 

[reads. 
A thousand mies, uilh brats sucking their breasts, 
Had hot irons pinch them nff', and thrown to swine: 
And then their Jieshii bach-parts, itew'dwith hatchets, 
Were minced, and baked in pies, to feed starved 

Cliristians. 
Ha !— ha ! 

Again, again, — East Angles, — oh. East Angles : 
Bandogs, kept three days hungry, worried 
A thousand British rascals, stied up fat 
OJ' purpose, stripped naked, and disarni'd. 
I could outstare a year of suns and moons, 
To sit at these sweet bull-baitings, so I 
Could thereby but one Christian win to fall 
In adoration to my Jupiter. — Tuelce hundred 
Eyes bored with augres out — Oh ! eleven thousand 
Torn hi/ irild beasts : two hundred rainm'd in the earth 
To the armpits, and J all platters round about them. 
But far enough Jor reachingl : Eat, dtgs, ha ! ha ! 

ha ! [He rises. 

Tush, all these tortures are but fillipings, 
Fleabitings ; 1, before the Destinies 

Enter Ancelo with a basket filed with fruit and 
fowers. 
My bottom did wind up, would flesh myself 
Once more upon some one remarkable 

* is not out of hate 

To poor tormented wretches, &.c. i This issniii to dittirmniiih 
his chaiMcter nom thnt olSapiiliiis, wiiose zeal is liillutnce<l 
by inotivts of iiiti-iest, and by miiiy dther considcratiiuis, 
%vhich ai'puar o wti^h iiotliins; wilh Thiopliilus. 

t Great liritain, — what ?\ Great Britain, is a curious 
anachroiii>iri ; hut this our o!d ilramatic writers were little 
ioUcitous lo avoid. The reader waius not my assistance to 
discover tliat this rugged narative is l)y Decker : the horrible 
numeration of tacts, is taken from the histories of those 
limes. 

J But far enough for reaching ;] For occurs perpetually in 
these pla\s, in the sense of prevention, yet the inodern edi- 
tors have here altered itio/'rom! indeed, the woni is thus 
osed by every writer of Massiuger's age; thug Fletcher: 
" Walk ott, sirrah. 
And stir my horse for taking cold." 

Liove't Pilgrimage. 
Again : 

" he'll not tell me, 

For breaking of my heart." 
I Maid in the Mill. 



Above all these. This Christian slut was well, 

A prettv one ; but let such horror follow 

The next I feed with torments, that when Rome 

Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound 

May feel an earthquake. How now? [^Mtuie. 

Aug. Are you amazed, sir? 
So great a Roman spirit — and doth it tremble ! 

Theoph. How cam'st thou in ? to whom thy busi- 
ness. 

Ang. To you : 
1 liad a mistress, late sent hence by you 
Upon a bloody errand ; you entreated, 
That, when she came into that blessed garden 
Whither she knew she went, and where, now happy, 
She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you 
Some of that garden fruit and flowers ; which here> 
To have her promise saved, are brought by me. 

Theoph. Cannot I see this garden ? 

Ang. Yes, if the master 
Will give you entrance? [He vanishetk, 

Theoph. 'Tis a tempting fruit. 
And the most bright-cheek'd child I ever view'd ; 
Sweet smelling, goodly fruit. What flowers are 

these ? 
In Dioclesian's gardens ; the most beauteous. 
Compared with these, are weeds: is it not February 
The second day she died ? frost, ice, and snow. 
Hang on the beard of winter : where's the sun 
That gilds this summer? pretty, sweet boy, say, 
In what country shall a man find this garden ! — 
My delicate boy, — gone ! vanished ! within there, 
Julianus ! Geta! — 

Enter Julianus and Geta. 

Both. My lord. 

Theoph. Are my gates shut • 

Geta. And guarded. 

Theoph. Saw you not 
A boy ? 

Jul. Where ? 

Theoph. Here he enter'd ; a young lad ; 
A thousand blessings danced upon his eyes, 
A smoothfaced, glorious thing, that brought this 
basket*. 

Geta. No, sir ! 

Theoph. Away — but be in reach, if my voice calls 
you. [E.ietont. 

No ! — vanish'd, and not seen ! — Be thou a spirit 
Sent from tliat witch to mock me, I am sure 
This is essential, and, howe'er it grows. 
Will taste it. [Eatt. 

Harp. [within.'\ Ha, ha, ha, ha I 

Theoph. So good ! I'll have some more, sure. 

Now I am on the subject, let me observe, that a similar al- 
teration has been unnecessarily made in Pericles. The old 
reading is, 

" And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist, 
For going on death's net, which none resist." 
" This is corrupt," says the editor, " 1 think it should b« 
from going," and so he has piinied it ; place a comma after 
desist, and all will be right: "for going," i. e. for fear ot 
going, &c. 

• Tlipoph. Here he enter'd: c&c] It may give the readei 
some idea of the metrical skill with which Mavsinger hai 
been hitherto treated, to print these lines as they stand in 
Coxeler and M M i^on : 

Tlieopli. Heie he enter'd, a young lad ; a thmts.ind 

Blessings danc'd upon his eyes ; a smoothfac d gloriout 

Thing, that brought this basket. 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act V 



Harp. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! great liquorish fool. 

Theoph. What art thou ? 

Harp. A fislierman. 

Theoph. What dost thou catch ? 

Harp. Souls, souls ; a fish call'd souls. 

Theoph. Geta ! 

Enter Geta. 

Geta. IMy lord. 

Harp, [ail'n.'i.] Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Theoph. What insolent slave is this, dares laugli 
Or wliat is't the dog grins at so ? [ut m ! 

Geta. 1 neitherknow, my lord, at what, nor whom ! 
for there is none without, but my fellow Julianas, 
and he is making a garland lor Jujiiter. 

Theoph. Jupiter ! all within me is not well ; 
And yet not sick. 

Harp. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Theofih. What's thy name, slave? 

Harp, [utoneend.^ Go look. 

Getu. 'lis Harjiax' voice. 

Theoph. Harpax ! go, drag the caitiff to my foot, 
That 1 mav stamp upon him. 

Harp, [lit the other end.] Fool, ihoii liest ! 

Getu. He's yonder, now, my lord. 

Theoph. Watch thou that end, 
Whilst I make good this. — 

Harp, [at the middle.] Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Theoph. He is at barley-break, and the last couple 
Are niiw in hell.* [is bloody, 

Search ("or him. [E lit Geta.] All this ground, methinks. 
And paved with thousands of those Chiistians' eyes 
Whom 1 have tortured, and they stare upon me. 
Wiiat was this ajtparition >. sure it had 

• Tlico|ili. He is at bailiy-biciik, and the last couple 
Are noin in lull.] i. e. in llie middle; alluding lu tlie 
jitualioii (iC Hai|).iX. This wrttchuil copy of a urclrliud 
origiri.il. tlio hie et ubique of llio Gliost in Hamlet, is iiiiirli 
Kk> piii'iili' Icir llif occisioii, and tlie cliaiacttr :— def//j(7 tj^- 
emplar vitiis imitahile. With lospect to the aMinseMit-nl of 
bailey bie.iU, a!lll^ions to it occur repeatedly in onr (jM 
writers; and their commentators have piled one paialUl 
pass.ii;e npon another, without advancing a sinijle step 
towards expl lining v.\\it this celebiated pastime really n.ts 
It was pl.iNcd by six people (three of each sex), who were 
conpliil liy lot. A piece of ground was then chosen, an. I 
divided iiiio three compartnienls, of which the miilillu one 
was calK-d lit II It wis the object of the couple condemned 
to thisdivision, to catcli the others, who advanceil from the 
'.wo vxtnimiiis ; in which case a cli nge of sitnalinn took 
place, .111,1 hell was tilled by the couple who were exelinleil 
by preocciiiiation, from the other places: in this " catching," 
howevn , iliere wis some diliiciilty , as, by the regulaiions of 
the game, llie middle couple were not lo sep.irale before 
they had siuceeded, while the oiliers might Dieak liaiiiU 
whenever tin y found themselves h.ird pressed. When all 
had been taken in turn, the last couple was said to he in 
hell, and the siariic ended, /it tenui labor .' — Mc. M. Mason 
has given ilie following description of this pastime wiih 
allegorical personages, irom Sir John Suckling: 

" Love, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak 

Three males to play at barley break ; 

Love Folly took ; and Reason Fancy ; 

And Hate consorts with l^ride; sudance they : 

Love coupled last, and so it fell 

That Love and Folly were in hell. 

They break ; and Love would Reason meet, 

But Hate was nimbler on her leet; 

Fancy looks for 1 ride, and thither 

Hies, and they two hug together: 

Yet this nevv coupling still doth tell 

That Love and Folly were in hell. 

The rest do break again, and Pride 
Hath now got Reason on her side; 
Hate and Fancy meet, and stand 
L'ntonch'd by Love :n Folly's hand; 
Fol V was dull, bat Love ran well. 
So Love and Folly were in hell." 



A shape angelical. Mine eyes, though dazzled 

.And daunted at first sight, tell me, it wore 

A jiair of glorious wings ; yes, thev were wings. 

And hence he flew : 'tis vanish'd Jupiter, 

For all m'y sacrifices done to him, . 
Never once gave me smile. — How can stone smile. 
Or wooden image laugh t [music] Ha! I remember 
Such music gave a welcome to mine ear. 
When the fair youth came to me : — 'lis in the air. 
Or from some better place* : a power divine, 
I'hrough my dark ignorance on my soul does shine, 
And makes me see a conscience all staiii'd o'er, 
Nay, drown'd and damn'd for ever in Christian gore. 
Harp, [within.] Ha, ha, ha ! [tongue 

Theoph. Again ! — What dainty relish on my 
This fruit hath left ! some angel hath me fed ; 
If so toothfuU t I will be banqueted. [Eats. 

Enter Hahpax in a fearful shape, f re fashing out of 
tlie Study. 

Harp. Hold! 

Theoph. Not for Ciesar. 

Hurp. But for me thou shalt. [here. 

Theoph. Thou art no twin to him that last was 
Ye Powers, whom my soul bids me reverence, 
What art thou ? [guard me ! 

Harp I am thy master. 

Theoph. ISIine ! 

Harp. And thou my everlasting slave ; that Harpax, 
Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy hell, 
Am I. 

Theoph. Avaunt? 

Harp. 1 will not ; cast thon down 
Tliat basket with the things in't, and fetch up 
What thou Irist swallow'd, an:i then take a drink. 
Which I shall give thee, and I'm gone. 

Theoph, My fruit ? 
Does tliis offend thee? see ! [Fats agaitu 

Horp. Spit it to the ear.ht. 
And tread upon it, or I'll piecemeal tear thee. 

Theoph. Art thou with this affrighted ? see, here's 
more. [Pulls out a handful of fiowers. 

Harp. Fling them away, I'll take thee else, and 
hang thee 
In a contorled chain of isicles 
In the i'rigid zone : down with them ! 

Theoph. At the bottom 
One thing I found not yet. See ! 

[Holds up a cross offov:ers. 

Harp. Oh! I am tortured. [hence! 

Theoph. Can this do't ! hence, thou fiend infernal. 

Harp. Clasp Jupiter's image, and away vvitii that. 

Theoph. At thee I'll fling that Jupiter ; for, me- 
thinks, 
I serve a better master : he now checks me 
For murdering my two daughters, put on§ by thee— 

• Or from some better plACt; ;] In Coxeler's edition, p/ace 
was diopt at the press, I suppose : and jM. Mason, who 
si ems to have no conception of any older or other copy, 
blindly followed hiin; though ihe line has neiiher nieasur 
iM.r sense without llie word, inserted from the old quartos: — 
out indeed the whole of this scene, as ii stand.- in the two 
foi-merediiious, especially the last, is full of tlie most shame- 
jul U.inders. 

T Jfso toothfull, &C.1 So the old copies, the modern edJ 
tions"'have toothsome: it may perhips be a better won!, but 
should notl-.ave been sihiilly foisted upon the author. 

j Harp. Spit it to the earth.] The fust .md >econ,1 quartos 
read ippi, which was now begiuning logiow obsolete ;iu the 
succeeding one it h spit 

j 1 . put on by thee—] i. e. encouraged, instigated. 

I So in Shakspeare : 



Scene 11. J 



TH E VIRG IN-M ART YR. 



99 



By thy diimn'd rhetoric did I liunt the life 

Of Dorotlien, the holy virgin-martyi"- 

Slie is not aiii^ry witli the iixe, nor me, 

But sends these presents to inc ; and I'll travel 

O'er worlds to find her, and from her white hand 

Be^ a lorgiveness. 

Harp. iNo; I'll bind thee here. [weapon*, 

Theoph. I serve a strength above thine ; this small 
Methinks is armour hard enough. 

Harp. Keoj) from me [^Sliihs a little. 

Theoph. Art posting to thy centre? down, hell- 
hound ! down ; 
Me thou liast lost: that arm, which liurls tliee 
hence, \^llarpax disappears. 

Save me, and set metkj^i, the strong defence 
In the fair '^liristian's quarrel ! 

Enter AsGEU). 

Ang. Fix thy foot tliere. 
Nor be tliou shaken with a Cicsar's voice, 
Thou!',h thousand deaths were in it ; and I then 
Will bring thee to a river, that shall wash 
Thy bloody liands clean and more white than snow; 
And to that garden where these blest things grow, 
And to that martyr'd virgin, who hath sent 
That heavenly token to tliee : spread this brave wing. 
And serve, ti;an Ca?sar, a far greater king. \^E.iit. 

Theop. It is, it is some angel. Vanish'd again ! 
Oh, come back, ravi>hing boy ! bright messenger ! 
Thou h-ist, by tliese mine eyes fix'd on thy beauty, 
Illumined all my soul. Now look I buck 
On my back tyrannies, which, as they did [me. 

Outdare the bloodiest, thou, blest spirit, that lead'st 
Teach me what I must to do, and, to do well, 
That my last act the best may parallelf. [Ex/(. 



SCENE II. — Dioci.esian's Palace. 

Enter Dioclesian, ISIaximinus, the Kingi of Epire. 
Pontus, and Alacedon, meeting Autemia • Atten- 
dants. 

Artem. Glory and conquest still attend upon tri- 
umphant C«sar I 

Diode. I.et thy wish, fair daughter. 
Be equally divided ; and hereafter 
Learn thou to know and reverence !\Iaximinus, 
Whose power, with mine united: makes one C;esar. 

Max. 15ut that I fear 'twould be held flattery. 
The bonds consider'd in which we stand tied, 
As love and empire, I should say, till now 
I ne'er had seen a lady I thought worthy 
To be my mistress. 

Artem. Sir, you show yourself 
Both courtier and soldier ; but take heed. 
Take heed, my lord, though my dull-pointed beauty, 
Stain'd by a, harsh refusal m my servant. 
Cannot dart forth such beams as may inflame you. 
You may encounter such a powerful one. 
That with a pleasing heat will thaw your heart, 
Though bound in nbs of ice. Love still is love, 

" — MHcbfih 

Is ripe for sluking, hixI llie I'owtrs above 
Put on llieiriiisinimeiiis." 

• — this imall wciipoii,] Meaning, I believe, 

the " cross of flowers," wiiicli he hnl JM>t loiind. Tlie 
lans;"ai;e and ideas of this play are piiiclj catliohc. 

T 'I'hat my last act the lest may parallel J Tims far 
D.'iker ; wiiat follows I appieluinl \v.i> wiilien by Aiussin- 
'sei-; (and is unsuipasf»^d in uie Enyll^hlant;u.li;u.) 



His bow and arrows are the same : great Julius, 
'Jhat to his successors left the name of Cajsar, 
Whom war could never tame, that with dry eves 
Beheld the large plains of Pharsalia cover'd 
With the dead carcases of senators 
And citizens of Rom ' fhen the world knew 
No other lord but hir. _ struck deep in years too, 
(And men gray-haid forget the lusts of youth) 
After all tlis, meeting fair Cleopatra, 
A suj^phant too, the magic of her eye. 
Even in his ]>ride of conquest, took him captive ; 
Nor are you more secure. 

Max. Were you deform'd 
(But, by the gods, you are most excellent), 
Your gravity and discretion would o'ercome me ; 
And I sliould be more proud in b^^ing prisoner 
To your fair virtues, than of all the honours, 
Wealth, title, empire, that my sword hath purchased. 

Diode. 'Ibis meets my wishes. Welcome t, 
Artemia, 
With outstretch'd arms, and study to forget 
That Antoninus ever was ; thy fate 
Reserved thee for this better choice, einbn^ce it. 

Max.* This happy match brings new nerves to 
give strength 
To our continued league. 

Diode Hymen himself 
Will bless tills marriage, which we'll .solemnize 
In the presence of these kings. 

K, of Poiitas. Who rest most happy, 
To be eyewitnesses of a match that brings 
Peace to the emjiire. 

Diode. We much thank your loves ; 
But Where's Sapritius, our governor. 
And our most zealous provost, good Theophilusi 
If ever prince were blest in a true servant, 
Or could the gods be debtors to a man. 
Both they and we stand far engaged to cherish 
Ilis piety and service. 

Artem. Sir, the governor 
Brooks sadly his son's loss, although he lurn'd 
Apostata in death t ; but bold Theophilus, 
Who, for the same cause, in my jjre^ence, seal'd 
His holy finger on his daughters' hearts ; 
Having with tortures first tried to convert her, 
Dragg'd the bewitching t.hristian to the scaflfold, 
And saw her lose her head. 

Diode, lie is all worthy : 
And from his own mouth I would gladly hear 
The manner how she suft'er'd. 

Artem. 'i'will be deli»er'd 
With such contempt and scorn (I know his nature) 
That rather 'twill beget your highness' laughter. 
Than the least pity. 

Diode. To that end I would hear it. 

Enter Theophilus, Sapuith's, and Macrixus. 

Artem. He comes ; with him the governor. 

Diode. O, Sapritius, 
I am to chide you for your tenderness ; 
But yet, remembering that you are a father. 



• Max* y/i(S happy match, Sic] The old copies iive this 
to the K. of Epire ; il is evident, however, that lie cannot 
be the speaker; 1 make no apology for lesioriiig it to Max- 
iminns. 

+ Apostata in death; Here as;ain the modern editor.", 
read, Aposl.ile in death, iIioms;Ii it ab-oliilelj de.-tioys the 
measure. It is vi i) slrinue lii.it liie (leipieiit lecnrreiice of 
this word should noi li .ndi lliejn to he.-ilatu on the propriety 
of corriiptiiig it U|ion all oceasioiis. 



so 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR. 



[Act V 



I will forget it. Good Theopliilus, 

rU speak with you anon — Nearer, your far. 

[To Sapritiiis. 

Theoph. [aside to Macriiius.] By .Antoninus' soul, 
I do conjure you. 
And though not for religion, for his friendship. 
Without demanding- whai'.s the cause that moves me. 
Receive my signet ; — by the power of this, 
Go to m}' prisons, and release all Christians 
That are in fetters there by my command. 

Mac. But what shall follow'? 

Theoph. Ilasfe then to the port; 
You there shall find two tall .•5hips ready rigg'd*, 
In which embark the jioor distressed souls, 
And bear them from the reacli of tyriinny. 
Enquire not whither you are bound ; the Deity 
That thev adore will give ycu prosperous winds, 
And make your vo>age such, and largely ])ay for 
Your hazard, and your travail. Leave me here ; 
There is a scene that I must act alone. [you ! 

Haste, good Macrinus ; and the great God guide 

Mac. I'll undertake't, there's something prompts 
me to it ; 
'Tis to save innocent blood, a saint-like act ; 
And to be merciful has never been 
By moral men themselves t esteem'd a sin. [Exit. 

Diode. You know your charge 1 

Sap. And will with care observe it. 

Diode, for I profess he is not CtV.-ar's friend, 
I'hat sheds a tear for any torture that 
A Christian suffers. Welcome, mv best servant, 
My careful zealous provost ! thou hast toil'd 
To satisfy my will, though in extremes : 
I love thee for't ; thou art firm rock, no changeling. 
Prithee deliver, and for my sake do it. 
Without excess of bitterness, or scolts, 
Before mv brother and these kings, how took 
The Christian her death I 

Theoph. And such a j)resence, 
Though every ]irivate head in this large room 
Were circled round wiih an imperial crown, 
Her story will deserve, it is so full 
Of excellence and wonder. 

Diode. Ha! how is this? 

Theoph. O ! mark it, therefore, and with that 
attention, ^ 

As you would hear an embassy from heaven 
By a wing'd legate ; for the truili deliver'd 
Both how, and what, this blessed virgin suffer'd, 
And Dorothea hut hereafter named, 
You will rise up with reverence, and no more. 
As things unworthy of your thoughts, remember 
What the canonized Spartan ladies were, [matrons. 
Which lying Greece so boasts of. Your own 
Your Roman dames, whose figures you yet keep 
As holy relics, in her history 
Will find a second urn : Gracchus' Cornelia J, 



• You there shall find Iwo uWsifiips rrady rii/y'd,] We 
(hotild now say, two tloiii ishlps ; but sie the Unnatural 
Combat. 

t Bt/ rni>ral men themselves, Ike,] This is ilu- le.iding of 
the first copy : iiU tliu lliu >tliii> liaVf, \\M\u\men. 

I Gracchus' Cornelia, This ii.is>Hge, as piiiiicd in Ihe old 
edition, is m^nsi'iife. M.Mason. 

Tliij is joinowli.it bull in oni: who never shw llie old edi- 
tions. In Cuseler, ii.dted, it is piinted, (ii r.iilier pointed, 
as nonsiiise bin In c.ill his the (.Id nliiion is .-cnrcely cor- 
reet. The tirst qn.trio reads as in !■ e ti\t with lh> excepliim 
of an apo.^trophe aecideiitally niisj;! iciil ; llii' seioiid folliius 
it, and both are more correct llian Mr. M. Mason, eillier in 
bb text or note. 



Paulina, that in death desired to follow 
Her husbantl Seneca, nor Brutus' Portia, 
That swallow'd burning coals to overtake him, 
Though all their several worths were given to one. 
With this is to be mention 'd. 

Max. Is he mad ? 

Diode. Why, ttiey diddie, Theophilus, and boldly; 
This did no more. 

Theoph. They, out of desperation, 
Or for vain glory of an after-name. 
Parted with life: this had not mutinous sons. 
As the rash Gracchi were ; nor was this saint 
A doating mother, as Cornelia was: 
Tliis lost no husband, in whose overthrow 
Her wealth and honour sunk ; no fear of want 
Did make her being tedious ; but, aiming 
At an immortal crown, and in his cause 
Who only can bestow it, who sent down 
Legions of uiinistering angels to bear up 
Her spotless soul to heaven ; who entertain'd it 
Witli choice celestial music, equal to 
'J he motion of the spheres, she, uncompell'd, 
Changed this life for a better. IViy lord Sapritius 
You were ])resent at her death ; did you e'er hear 
Such ravishing sounds ? 

Sap. Yet you .said then 'twas witchcraft, 
And devilish illusions. 

Theoph. 1 then heard it 
With sinful ears, and belclTd out blasphemous words 
Against his Deity, which then I knew not 
Nor did believe in liim. 

Diode. Why, dost thou now' 
Or dar'st thou, in our hearing — 

Theoph. W'ere mv voice 
As loud as is his thund r, to be heard 
Through all the world, all potentates on earth 
Ready to hurst with rage, should they hut hear it ; 
Though hell, to aid their malice, lent her furies, 
Yet I would speak, and speak again, and boldly, 
I am a Christian, and the Powers you worship 
But dreams of fools and madmen. 

Mux. Lay hand.s on liim. 

Diode. 1 hou twice a child 1 for doating age so 
makes thee. 
Thou cou'dst not else, thy pilgrimage of life 
Being almost ])ast through, in this last moment 
Destroy whate'er thou hast done good or great — 
Thy youth did jiromise much ; and, grown a man. 
Thou mad'st it good, and, with increase of years. 
Thy actions still better'd : as the sun. 
Thou did'st rise gloriously, kept'st a constant course 
In all thy journey ; and now, in the evening. 
When thou should'st pass with honour to thy rest, 
Wilt thou fall like a meteor ? 

Sap. Vet confess * 

That thou art mad, and that thy tongue and heart 
Had no agreement. 

Max. Do ; no way is left, else, 
To save thy life, Theophilus. 

Diode, iiut, refuse it. 
Destruction as horrid, and as sudden, 
Shall fall upon thee, as if hell stood open. 
And thou wert sinking thither. 

Theoph, Hear me, yet ; 
Hear for my service past. 

Artem. VV hat will he say ? 

Theoph. As ever I deserved your favour, hear me, 
And grant one boon : 'tis not for life I sue for *, 



• 'TU not for life I sve tor ' The modern editors omil 



Scene II.] 



THE VIRGTN'-MARTVR. 



31 



Nor i^ it fii that I, that ne'er knew pity 

To anv Chri-itian, beiii;i; one myself, 

Should look ibr any ; no, I rather be» 

The utmost of your cruelty; I stand 

Accomptible for tlious md Christians' deaths ; 

And, were it possible that 1 could die 

A day for every one, then live again 

To be again tormented, 'twere to me 

An easy penance, and I should pass through 

A gentle cleansing fire ; but, that denied me, 

It being beyond the stiength of feeble nature, 

My suit is, you would have no pity on me. 

In mine own house there are thousand engines 

Of studied cruel'y, which I did prepare 

For miserable Christians ; let me feel, 

As the Sicilian did his brazen bull. 

The horrid'st you can find, and I will say, 

In death that you are merciful. 

Diccle. Despair not, 
lu tJiis thou shall prevail. Go fetch them hither : 

[Exit. Guard. 

Death shall put on a thousand shapes at once, 
And so appear before thee ; racks, and whips! — 
Thy flesh, with burning pincers torn, shall feed 
The fire that heats them ; and what's wanting to 
The torture of thy body, I'll supply 
In punishing thy mind. Fetch all the Christians 
That are in hold ; and here, before his face, 
Cut them in pieces. 

Theoph. 'Tis not in thy power : 
It was the first good deed I ever did. 
They are removed out of thy reach ; howe'er 
I was determined for my sins to die, 
I first took order for their liberty, 
And still 1 dare thy worst. 

Re-enter Guard with the iiistrumenis of torture. 

Diocle. Bind him I say ; 
Make every artery and sinew crack : 
The slave that makes him give the loudest shriek,* 
Shall have ten thousand drachmas : wretch ! I'll 
To curse the Power thou worship'st: [force thee 

Theoph. Never, never ; 
No breath of mine sha.l e'er be spent on him, 

[They torment him. 

But what shall speak his majesty or mercy. 
I'm honour'd in my suflferings. Weak tormentors. 
More tortures, more: — alas ! you are unskilful — 
For Heaven's sake more ; my breast is yet untorn : 
Here purchase the reward that was propounded. 
The irons cool, — here are arms yet, and thighs ; 
Spare no part of me. 

Max. He endures beyond 
The sufferance of a man. 

Sap, No sigh nor groan. 
To witness he hath feeling. 

Diocle. Harder, villains ! 

Enter Haupax. 

Harp. Unless that he blaspheme he's lost for ever. 
2f torments ever could bring forth despair. 



the la.«t /or: but they are too squeamish. This reduplica- 
tion was piacti.se(l by all the writers of our author's lime; 
of which I could, if it were necessary, give a thcusand ex- 
amples ; Massinger himself would furnish a considerable 
sumber. 

• The slave that itmkes him give the lovdeit shriek,'] So 
read nil tlie editions before the last; when Mr. M. Mason, to 
suit the line to his own ideas of harmony, discarded 'J'he slave 
lor He! 



Let these compel him to .t : Oh me, 

My ancient enemies again ! 'IFulls down. 

Enter Doroiuea in a white "ohe, a crown upon her 
head, led in hij Anoelo ; Aniomnus, Cai.isia, and 
Cnmsi I TA Jollouing, all in white, hut less i>lorious 
Angli.o holds out a crown to TiiiiorniLus. 

Theoph. !\l(;st glorious vision ! 

Did e'er so hard a bed yield man a dream 
So heayenly as this? I am confirm'd, 
Confirjn'd, you blessed spirits, and make liaste 
To take ihat crown of immortality 
You ofl'er to me. Death, till this blest minu'e, 
I never thought thee slow-paced ; nor would 1 
Ha.sten thee now, for any pain I sutler. 
But that thou keep'st me from a glorious wreath, 
Which through this stormy way 1 would creep to, 
And, humbly knt-eling, with humility wear it. 
Oh ! now I feel thee : — blessed spirits ! I come ; 
And, witness for me all these wounds and scars, 
I die a soldier in the Christian wars. [Dies 

Sap. 1 have seen thousands tortured, but ne'er yet 
A constancy like this. 

Harp. I am twice damn'd. 

Ang. liaste to thy place appointed, cursed fiend ' 
In sf)ite of hell, this soldier's not thy j:rey ; 
Tis I have won, thou that hast lost the day. [Exii 
[Harjuu sinks with thunder and lightning, 
Diocle. I think the centre of tiie eartli be crack'd, 
Yet I stand still unmoved, and will go on : 
The persecution that is here begun, 
Tiirough all the world with violence shall run. 

[Flourish. Eieunt* 

• Mr. M. Alrtson capriciously deran^eil the onhr in whieb 
Coxeter printed these plays, and began wiih '/'he Picture, a 
piece which be.irs the strons;cst inlernil iii.irks ••( l)eiiig a 
lale production. Willi resptct to the Viry'.uMayiyr, he 
considerably undei-rhte> it, and iiideeii dis, I i>s no pinion 
of ju ignieiit in api'ieciiiling either its l)eintii.s oriltficts. 
He adopts Coxetei's idea tl.it it was iiidtbtLiI lor lt^ success 
to the abiuiiinable scenes between Hiriins and Spmigins, 
pronounces llie kiibject of the tragedy lo be imple .sant. the 
incident? unnatural, and the sitpernatnral .is;e,;is eiiiploycu 
lo bring llie/n about, destitute of liie singnl.irily and wiMiiess 
which distingui.-.h the fictilioiis beings of Sh.ika.^eare. With 
rciipcct to the subject, it is undoubtedly ill ello^ell. Scoiiij;- 
in;;, racking, and" behea<ting, are ciicunisfcinces <if no veiy 
agreeable kind; and with the poor aiils of which ihe stage 
was then po.'^se.'sed, must have bc»n somewhat worse than 
riiliciiliiiif. Allowin-j, however, for the agency oi >ni)ernatui-al 
btings, I scarcely eee how Ihe incidents ihey produce can, 
as Mr. M. Mason lepresents them, be unnatural. Ihe ci.jn- 
parison drawn between them and the fictitious beings of 
Sliaksp are is injudicious. Shakspeare has no angels nor 
devils; hi« wonieriul judgment, perhaps, instMicled him lo 
av.iid su(h nntractable inail.ir.cry. VViih fairies ami spirits 
he might wanton in the regio.is of fancy, i/... :'■" ■■''••.icter 
of a heavenly messenger was of too sacred a nature tor «'i(a- 
ne.is and sinyularity, and that of a fieml too horrible lor the 
sporliveiiess of imagination. It appears lo me that Ma?sin- 
ger and his associate had conceived the id°a of comtiininj 
the prominent parts of the old Mystery, with the Morality, 
which was not yet obliterated from the memories, nor perhaps 
from the atfeciions of many of the spectators ; to this, I am 
willing to hope, and not to" the ribahlry, which Mr. M. Ma 
son so properly repiobates, the great success of ihis singular 
medley might be in some measure owing. I have taken 
notice of many bean iful pas'sages; but it would be unjust to 
Ihe authors to concluile, without remarking on the good 
sense and dexterity with which Ihey have avoided the con- 
currence of Angelii and Harpax, till the concluding scene; 
an error into which Tasso, and others of greater name than 
Massinger, have inadvertently fallen. 

With a neglect of precision which pervades all the argi! 
ments of Mr. M. Mason, he declares it is easy to distingnisn 
the hand of Decker from that of Massinger, yet liiids a dif 
ficully in apppropriating their most characteristic language 
If I have spoken with more confideiice, it i< not doivj 
ligtilly, but from a loug and careful study of Massinecv 



52 



THE VIRGIN-MARTYR, 



[Act V 



in:iiinfi-, and from that species of intoriial tvideiice wliich, 
thougli it H)i<;ht not perliaps snrticieutly strike tlie common 
reader, is willi cne decisive. With respect lo tlie .<cenes be- 
tween the two butibons, it would be an injury to tlie name 
of Massinner to waste a single argument iu proving tliem 
liot to be liis. In saying this I am actuated H\ no hostility to 
Decker, wiio in this Play has many passages which evince 
that lie wanted not talents to rival, if he had plea>ed, his 
Jriend and associate. Gifforu. 

Notwitlistanding the blemishes which have been justly 
objected to this play, it possesses beauties of an cxlr.ionli- 
nary kind.— Indeed, nothing more base and filthy can be 
conceived Ih.in the dialogues between Hircius and S|)nngius! 
but the genuine and dignified piety of Dorothea, lier unsul- 
lied innocence, her unshaken constancy, the lolly pity j-he 
expresses for tier persecutors, her calm contempt of tortures, 
and her hermc death, exalt the mind in no common degree, 
and make llie reader almost insensible of the surrounding 
impurity, ihiough the holy contempi ol it which they in- 
jpire. 

How scnliments and imsges thus opposite shoidd be con- 
tai.ied iu the same piece, it is somewhat difficult to conceive. 
If Denker had furnished none but the comic parts, the doubt 
would be soon at an end. But there is good reaeon to sup- 
pose that he wrote the whole of the second act; and the very 
first scene of it has the s^me mixture of loathsome beastliness 
and angelic purity, which are ob-erve<l in those passages 
that are more distant from each other.— It is the strange and 
forced conjunclion of Mezentins: 

HJortua juni/ebat corpora vivis, 

'I'ormenti genus 

The subject in gt neral is certainly extravagant ; and the 
introduclion of a good and evil spirit, disguised in human 
shapes, was not to be expected in what aspired to the credit 
of a regular tragedy. Yet it should be remembered, that 
poetic licen e calls in "a thousand liverifd angels" to " lac- 
key sainlly c astity ;"— th it whatever be their departure from 
propriety, such representations ha<l a most solemn origin; 
and th.it, with this allowance, the business in which llie 
spirits are engaged has a substantial conforiniiy with the 
opinions of lue early ages in which the plot is laid. The 
permitted hut vain oppo-ition ol ihe demons to the progress 
of tilt <aith, and the reasoning and raillery which Dorothea 
expresses, umler Ihe inlluence of Angelo, against the pagan 
gods, are to be found in Justin, Tatian,Arnoliius, and others.* 



• (Aniustine and Gregory the Great, wholived so lale as 
t><> four'b rontury, mention the visiCi of the aogeb tu this 
•iirib eveoin their d<iys. Eu.) 



— The separate agency of the spirits, and the consequence 
of their personal encoiinter, are also described in a charac- 
teristic manner. 

Apart from Angelo, Harpax seems to advance in his 
malignant work. When the daughters of Theophilus express 
their zeal for paganism, he " grows fat to see his labours 
prosper." Vet he cannot look forward to the defeat of 
those labours in their approaching conversion, though, on 
some occasions, we find he could " see a thousand leagues" 
in his master's service. And this agrees v.ilh the doctrine, 
that when some signal trininpli of the faith was at hand, 
the evil spirits were abridged of tlieir nsual powers. Again, 
when Harpax expects to meet Angelo, he thus expresses 
the dread of his presence, and Ihe ettect which it afterwards 
produced on him : 

" 1 do so hale his sight. 

That, should I look on him, 1 should sink down." 

Act II. sc. ii. 
And this too, perfectly agrees with the power attributed to 
the superior spirits of quelling the demons by those indica- 
tions of heir quality which were not to be perceived by 
mortals : per ocndtUsimts siyna prousentue, qua anyelicis, 
teiisibur. etiam maliynorwn spiritiiutn, potius qiiam infirmi- 
tati hominum, pnssunt esse persp'wua. I iv. Dei. lib. ix. 

The otir r paits of the Play do not require much observa- 
tion. Indeed, the characters of Calista and (jhristeta are 
well sustained. Hasty, sell-conhdciit, readily promising for 
their steadiness, soon forgetting their resulutions, and equally 
secure in every change of opinion, they are well contrasted 
with Doro hea, whose lixed principlis always guard her 
against rashness, and therefore preserve her from coniradic- 
tion. As to Dioclesian and his captive kings, they come iu 
and go out with little of our admiration or our pity. Anemia's 
love for Antoninus' would be wholly wiihonl interes', if we 
were not moved for a nioinent hy her iiicUgnatioii at the 
rejection of her'otter ; and we see her at length consigned 
to .Maximinus with as little emotion as is shewn by them- 
selves. This, however, is somewhat relieved by Anioninus's 
passion, a genuine one, for Dorothea. 

Certainly there is too much liorror in this tragedy. The 
daughters of Theophilus are killed on the stage. Theophilus 
himself is racked, and Dorothe.i is dragged by the hair, 
kicked, torluied, and behe.ide I. Its popularity must there- 
fore in a considerable degree be allribiited to the iiuerest 
occasioned by the contrary ag< ncies of the two spirits, to 
the glorious vision of the beatiti-d Dorothea at the conclu- 
tion of the piece, and the reappeaiance of Angelo, in hit 
proper character, with thesacied fruit and llov\ers, Ironi lh« 
" heavenly garden," and Ihe " crtwu of immortality," fcr 
TtieouLiius, Dr. 1bel4.nu. 



THE 

UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



The Unnatural Cosibat.] Of this Tragedy there is but one edition, which was printed for John Water- 
son, in 1639. It does not occur in Sir Henry Herbert's OtKce-book ; so that it is probably of a very early 
date : and indeed Massinger himself calls it " an old traoedy." Like the Virgin- Martyr, it has neither 
Proloo-ue nor Epilogue, for which the author accounts in his Dedication, by observing that the play was 
composed at a time " wlien such by-ornaments were not advanced above the fabric of the whole work." 

The editors of the Biographiu Dramatica speak in rapturous terms of the various excellencies of this piece, 
Rnd think, " that with very little alteration, it might be rendered a valuable acquisition to the present stage." 
This I doubt: it is indeed a most noble performance ; grand in conception, and powerful in execution ; but 
the passion on which the main part of the story hinges, is of too revolting a nature for public representation 
we may admire in the closet what we should turn from on the stage. 

It is said, in the title-page, to have been " presented by the King's Majesty's Servants, at the Globe. 



MY MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, 

Al^THONY SEJJ^TLEGEK, 

OF OAKHAM, IN KENT, ESQ. 

Sir, 
That the patronage of trifles, in this kind, hath long since rendered dedications, and inscriptions obsolete 
Bnd out of fashion, I perfectly understand, and cannot but ingenuously confess, that I walking in the same 
path, may be truly argued by you of weakness, or wilful error : but the reasons and defences, for the 
tender of my service this way to you, are so just, tliat I cannot (in ray thankfulness for so many favours 
received) but be ambitious to publish them. Your noble father. Sir VVarham Sentleger (whose remarkable 
virtues must be ever remembered), being, while he lived, a master, for his pleasure, in poetry, feared not tc 
hold converse with divers, whose necessitous fortunes made it their profession, among which, by the 
clemency of his judgment, I was not in the last place admitted. You (the heir of his honour and 
estate) inherited his good inclinations to men ol' my poor quality, of which I cannot give any amijler 
testimony, than by my free and glad profession of it to the world. Besides (and it was not the least 
encouragement to me) many of eminence, and the best of such, who disdained not to take notice of me, 
have not thought themselves disparaged, I dare not say lionoured, to be celebrated the patrons of my 
humble studies : in the first file of which, I am confident, you shall have no cause to blush, to find 
your name written. I present you with this old tragedy, without prologue or epilogue, it being composed 
ia a time (and that too, peradventure, as knowing as this) ^when such by-ornaments were not advanced 
above the fabric of the whole work. Accept it, I beseech you, as it is, and continue your favour to the 
author 

Your servant, 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



DRAMATIS PERSON^IS. 

Beaufort senior, gmernor of Marseilles. j A Steward. 

Beaufort jumor, his son An Usher. 

Malefout se«((»r, aJmiraio/" Marseilles. I A Page. 

Malefout junior, his son I Tuf.ocrine, daughter to Malf.fort senivT 

Chamont, 1 I Two Waiting Women. 

Montaigne, > assistants to the governor. 

Lanour, J 

RloNTREViLLE, o pretended friend to Malefort senior. 

Belgarde, a poor captain. 

1 hree Sea Captains, of the navy of Malefort junior 

SC ENE.— Marseilles. 



Two Courtezans. 
A Bawd. 



Servants and Soldiers. 



M 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



Aei 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— A Hall in the Court of Justice. 



Enter Montrevii.i.t?, Tueocrine, Usher, Page, and 
Waiting Women. 

Montr. Now to be modest, madam, when you are 
A suitor for your father, would appear 
Coarser than boldness ; you awhile must part with 
Soft silence, and the blushings of a virgin : 
Though I must grant, did not this cause command it. 
They are rich jewels j'ou have ever worn 
To all men's admiration. In this age. 
If, by our own forced importunity. 
Or others purchased intercession, or 
Corrupting bribes, we can make our approaches 
To justice, guarded from us bv stern power. 
We bless the means and industry. 

Usii. Here's music fopium, 

In this bag shall wake her, though she had drunk 
Or eaten mandrakes*. Let commanders talk 
Of cannons to make breaches, give but fire 
To this petard, it shall blow open, madam, ' 
Tlie iron doors of a judge, and make you entrance ; 
When they (let them do what they can) with all 
Tlieir mines, their culverins, and basiliscos, [lock 
Shall cctol their feet without; tliis being the pick- 
That never fails. 

Montr. 'Tis true, gold can do much. 
But beauty more. Were I the governor. 
Though the admiral, your father, stood convicted 
Of whut he's only doubted, half a dozen 
Of sweet close kisses froni these cherry lips. 
With some short active conference in private, 
Should sign his general pardon. 

Theac. These light words, sir, 
Do ill become the weight of my sad fortuna; 
And I much wonder, you, that do profess 
Yourself to be my father's bosom friend, 
Can laise mirth from liis misery. 

Montr. You mistake me ; 
I share in his calamity, and only 
Deliver my thoughts freely, what I should do 
For such a rare petitioner : and if 
You'll follow the directions I prescribe. 
With my best judgment I'll mark out the way" 
For his enlargement. 

Tlieoc. With all real joy 
[ shall put what you counsel info act, 
Provided it be honest. 

Moittr. Honesty 
In a lair she client (trust to my experience) 
Seldom or never p:jspers ; the world's wicked : 
We are men, not saints, sweet lady ; you must 

practice 
The manners of the iime, if you intend 
To have favour from it : do not deceive yourself 
By building too much on the false foundations 
Of chastity and virtue. Bid your waiters 
Stand further off, and I'll conie nearer to you 

1 Worn. Some wicked counsel, on my life. 



• Or eaten mandrakes.] Hill obser\es, that " the man- 
dra'ie hd» a suporitic qiulity, and that it was use<l by Ilii- 
aiii'ieiitj when tliey waiitid a narcotic <it' a most powtrrul 
kind." To this there are perpetual allusions in our old 
Wfilvrt. 



2 Worn. Ne'er doubt it*, 
If it proceed from him. 

Piige I wonder that 
My lord so much aftects him. 

UsJi. Thoii'rt a child t, 
And dost not understand on what strong basis 
'I his friendship's raised between this Montreville 
Andourlord, Monsieur Malefort; but I'll teach thee • 
I'rom thy years they have been joint purchasers 
In fire and water works, and truck'd together 

Paire. In fire and water works ! 

Ush. Commodities, boy. 
Which you may know hereafter. 

Page. And deal in them. 
When the trade has given you over, as appears bj 
The increase of your high forehead^. 

Ush. Here's a crack§ 1 
I think they suck this knowledge in their milk. 

Page. I had an ignorant nurse else. I have tied. 
My lady's garter, and can guess — [sir, 

Ush. Peace, infant ; 
Tales out o'school I take heed, you will be breech'd 
else. [^Theocrine retires. 

1 Worn. My lady's colour changes. 

2 Worn. She falls oft' too. 

Theoc. Vou are a naughtv man, indeed you are ; 
And 1 will sooner perish with my father, 
Than at this price redeem him. 

Montr. Take your own way, 
Your modest, legal way : 'tis not your veil, 
Mor mourning habit, nor these creatures taught 
To howl, and cry, when you begin to whimper: 
Nor following my lord's coach in the dirt. 
Nor that which you rely upon, a bribe. 
Will do it, when there's something he likes betto* 
These courses in an old crone of threescorejl, 
That had seven years together tired the court 
With tedious petitions, and clamours, 

• 2 Worn. Ne'ei doubt it 

/J' it proceed from him.] The character of Mon'eiill' W 
opened wiili gie.it be.inly and propriety. Tlii, f cfuom o( 
his l.iiigiiage, and ilie advice he gives Theocriii'", fully pie 
pare us fui any a.:t of Ircathery or cruelty he may hereaftev 
perpetrate. 

+ I'sh 'Jhou'rt a child. 

And dost nut undei stand, &c.] This speeoh, it is impossi- 
ble to say why, lias bten hi h. ilo printed as prose, though 
nothing is cleaitr than that the author meant it lor verse, 
into which, iinkrd, ir runs as readily as any other part of 
the play. ((Miiilled iiniiitenlionally in Edit. 1813.) 

J an appears by 

.The increase ci/' your liigh forehead] Alluding, per- 
haps, to the piviiiaiiiie baldness occasioned by dealing in 
the coinniodilies just mentioned; or, it may be, to the tall 
•ing ott ot Ills hair from age : so the women to Anacreon, 
t/ziXor ^e div fxtrunrov. 

j Ush. //ere s a crack !] A crack is an arch, sprightly boy. 
Thus, in the Devils an Ass : 

" If we coiiUl i;et a witty boy now. Engine, 
That were an excellent crack, 1 could instruct him 
To the greal heit;ht." 
The word occurs again in the Bas^iful Lover, and, indeed 
in most of our ol.l plays. 

II '/'hese courses in an old crone of threescore,] This ex 
pressioii, wliicli, as Johnson says, means an old toothless 
€we, i- conteiiiptiioi'sly used tor an old woman, by all the 
writers of Messenger's' time. Thus Jonson : 
" . kl him alone 

Willi temper d poison to remove the crone." PoetatttT 
And Shakspcaie : 

" take up the basl«id ; 

Tak't it up, 1 say ; giv t to thy crmte." TJinter't Taltk 



SCEVE I. 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



35 



For the recovery of a straggling* husband, 

To pay, forsooth, the duties of one to her; — 

But for a lady of your tempting beauties. 

Your youth, and ravishing features, to hope only 

fn such a suit as this is, to gain favour. 

Without exchage of courtesy, — you conceive me — 

Enter Beaufort junior, and Belgarde. 
Were madness at tho height. Here's brave young 

Beaufort, 
The meteor of Marseillesf, one that holds 
The governor his fiither's will and power 
In more awe than his own ! Come, come, advance, 
Present your bag, cramm'd with crowns of the sun| ; 
Do you think he cares for money? he loves pleasure. 
Burn your petition, burn it ; he doats on you, 
Upon my knowledge: to his cabinet, do. 
And he will point you out a certain course. 
Be the cause right or wrong, to have your father 
Released with much facility. [Exit. 

Iheoc. Do you hear? 
Take a pandar with you. 

Beauf. jun. I tell thee there is neither 
Employment yet, nor money. 

Belg. I have commanded, 
And spent my own means in my country's service 
In hope to raise a fortune. 

Beauf. jun. Many have hoped so ; 
But hopes prove seldom certainties with soldiers. 

Belg. If no preferment, let me but receive 
My pay that is behind, to set me ixp 
A tavern, or a vaulting house ; while men love 
Or drunkenness, or lechery, they'll ne'er fail me : 
i Shall I have that? 

BeaiiJ'.jun. As our prizes are brought in ; 
Till tlien you must be patient. 

Belg. In the mean time. 
How shall I do for clothes? 

Beiiuf.jun. As most captains do : 
Philosopher-like, carry all you have about you$. 

Belg. But how shall I do, to satisfy colon||, mon- 
There lies the doubt. [sieur ? 

Benuf.jun. That's easily decided : 
My father's table's free for any man 
That hath born arms. 

Belg. And there's good store of meat? 

Beiiuf.jun. Never fear that. 

Belg. I'll seek no other ordinary then, 
But be his daily guest without invitement ; 
And if my stomach hold, I'll feed so heartily, 
As he sliall pay me suddenly, to be quit of me. 

Beauf. jun. 'Tisshe. 

Belg And further 



• For the recovery/ of a straggling h«sband.]The old copy 
reads s/raw/liny. 

t The jiieli'or o/ Marseilles,! It may be proper to observe 
nere, once for all, that Mar«eillcs, or as Massintcr spells it, 
Msistllis, Is constantly used by him as a trisyllable, which, 
in fact, it is. 

J rroums nf the sun ;] Rseut de sole il, tUe best 

kind of Clowns, says (^olj^rave, that are now nikde; Ihey 
have a kind nl litile star (sun) on one side. This coin is fre- 
quently inentidned by our old writers. 

5 Phi'nsopher-like, car -y all you have abo f j/o«.] Allu- 
ding to the well known sa^i.ig of Sinionidos. " Omnia mea 
mccuni poito." 

II to sati.sfy crt\on, monsirur ?^ i. e. Ihecravinijsof 

hunger: (he colon is the Iar!»esl of the human intestines; i< 
frei|uenlly oecnrs in the same sense as here, in our old poets. 
So in the H'its. 

"Abstain from flesh — whilst colon keeps more noise 
Than niaiineis at plajs, or apple wives. 
That wrande for a sieve." 



Beauf. jun. Away, you are troublesome ; 
Designs of more weight • 

Belg. Ha ! fair Theocrine. 
Nay, if a velvet petticoat move in the front, , 

Buff jerkins must to the rear; I know ray n j^nerg 
This is, indeed, great business, mine a gewg rt'. 
I may dance attendance, this must be dispat-h'd,. 
And suddenly, or all will go to wreck ; 
Charge her home in the flank, my lord: nay, I am 
gone sir. [Exit. 

Beauf. jun.N ay, pray you, madam, rise, or I'll kneel 
witli you. 

Page. I would bring you on your knees, were I a 
woman. 

Beaif.jun. What is it can deserve so poor a name 
As a suit to me? This more than mortal form 
Was fashion'd to command, and not entreat: 
Your will but known is served 

Theoc. Great sir, my father, 
My brave, deserving father ; — but that sorrow 
Forbids tho use of speech 

Beauf.jun. I understand you. 
Without the aids of those interpreters 
That fall from your fair eyes ; I know yov labour 
The liberty of your father ; at the least, 
An equal* hearing to acquit himself: 
And 'tis not to endear my service to you. 
Though I must add, and pray you with patience 

hear it, 
'Tis hard to be effected, in respect 
The state's incensed against him : all presuming, 
The world of outrages his impious son, 
Turn'd worse than pirate in his Cruelties, 
Express'd to this poor country, could not be 
With such ease put in execution, if 
Your fatlier, of late our great admiral. 
Held not or correspondence, or connived 
At his proceedings. 

Theoc. And must he then suffer. 
His cause unheard ? 

Benuf.jun. As yet it is resolved so. 
In their determination. But suppose 
(For I would nourish hope, not kill it, in you) 
I should divert the torrent of their purpose. 
And render them, that are implacable. 
Impartial judges, and not sway'd with spleen; 
Will you, I dare not say in recompense, 
For that includes a debt you cannot owe me, 
But in your liberal bounty, in my suit 
To you, be gracious? 

Theoc, You entreat of me, sir. 
What I should offer to you, with confession 
That you much undervalue your own worth, 
Should you receive me, since there come with you 
Not lustful fires, but fair and lawful flames. 
But I must be excused, 'tis now no time 
For me to think of Hymeneal joys. 
Can he, (and pray you, sir, consider it) 
That gave me life, and faculties to love. 
Be, as he's now, ready to be devour'd 
By ravenous wolves, and at that instant, 1 
But entertain a thought of those delights, 
In which perhaps, my a:\loi.- meets with yours ! 
Duty and piety forbid it, sir. 



* An equal hearinf/] A just impartial hearing; so eqiial l» 
constanily used bv Mas<inter and lii« contemiioraries: tlmi 
Fletcher : 
" What could this thief have done, r ad his cause been equal 

He ni.ade my heartstrings tremble." Kniyht o/ Maita. 



ne 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



Act 



Beavf. jiin. But this effected, and your father free, 
What is voiir nnswer ? 

Thenc. Every minute to me 
.. Will he a tedious ape, till our emhraces 
i\re warrantable to tlie world. 

Beavf. jini. I uvEje no more ; 
Confirm it with a kiss. 

Tlieoc. I doubly seal it. 

U.sh. This would do better abed, the business 
ended : — 
They are the loving'st couple ! 

ftiier Beaufort senior, Montaigne, Chamont, arid 
Lanouh. 

Beatif.jun. Here comes my father, 
With the Council of War: deliver your petition. 
And leave the rest to me. [^Theoc. offers a paper. 

Beavf. sen. I am sorry, lady, 
Your father's s:uilt compels your innocence 
To ask what I in justice must deny. 

Beaxif.jun. For my sake, sir, pray you receive 
and read it. [nothing. 

Beavf. sen. Thou foolish boy ! I can deny thee 

Beavf. jun. Thus far we are happy, -nadam : quit 
You shal' hear how we succeed. [the place ; 

Theoc. Goodness reward you ! 

[Eieunt Theocrine, Usher, Page, and Women, 

Mont. It is apparent ; and we stay too long 
To censure Malefort* as he deserves. 

[Theii take their seats. 

Cham. There is no colour of reason that makes foi 
him : 
Had he discharged the trust committed to him. 
With that experience and fidelity 
He practised heretofore, it couhl not be 
Our navy siiould be block' hnd, in our sight, 

ur goods made prize, our sailors sold for slaves, 
y his prodigious issue + 

Lan, 1 much grieve. 
After so many brave and high achievements 
He should in one ill forfeit all the good 
He ever did his coiintry. 

Beavf. sen. Well, 'tis granted |. 

Beavf. jvn. I humbly thank you, sir. 

Beaif. sen. He shall have hearing. 
His irons too stnick off; bring him before us. 
But seek no further favour. 

Beaif.jun. Sir, I dare not. \Exit. 

Beavf sen. Monsieur Chamont, Montaigne, La» 
nour, assistants, 
By a commission from the most Christian king, 
n punishing or freeing Malefort, [not 

Our late great admiral : though I know you need 
Instructions from me, how to dispose of 
Yourselves in this man's trial, that exacts 
Your clearest judgments, give me leave, with favour, 



* To censure Mnlefott &c.] Malefort is here, and through- 
out the pl^iy, properly ufcd HS a Iris) liable. 

t J}y his prodigious issue.\ i. e. unnatural horrible por- 
tentous of evil; in this sense it is often applied to comets, 
in(i other extraonlinary appearances in the sky 
" Behold yon comet shews his head again ! 
Twicf hath he thus at cross turns thrown on ua 
Prodigious looks." 'J'he Honest Whore. 

Again : 

"This woman's threats, her eyes e'en red with fury 
Which like prodit/io'^s meteors, foietold 
Assured destruction are still before me." ^ 

The Captain. 
t Beauf. sen. Jf'ell, 'tis (/ranted.] It appears, from the 
UbseQuent speeches, that young Beaufort had be' n soliciting 
tatlier to allow Malefort to plead without his chains 



To offer mv rpinion. We are to hear him, 

A little looking hack on his fair actions, 

Loyal, and true demeanour ; not as now 

By the general voice already he's condemn'd. 

But if we find, as most believe, he haili held 

Intelligence with his accursed son. 

Fallen off from all allegiance, and turn'd 

(But for wiiat cause we know not) the most bloody 

And fatal enemy this country ever 

Repented to have brought forth ; all compas.sion* 

Of what he was, or may be, if now pardon'd j 
We sit engaged to censure him with all 
Extremity aud rigour. 

Cham. Your lordship shows us 
A path which we will tread in. 

Lan. He that leaves 
To follow, as you lead, will lose himself. 

Mont. I'll not be singular. 

Re-enter Beaukort junior, with MoNrnEviLLB, 
Malefort senior, Belgarde, and Officers. 

Beavf. sen. He comes, but with 
A strange distracted look. 

MaleJ.sen. Live I once moref 
To see these hands and arms free ! these, that often, 
In the most dreadful horror cf a fight. 
Have been as seamarks to teach .';uch as were 
Seconds in my attempts, to steer between 
The rocks of too much daring, and pale fear, 
To reach the port of victory ! when my sword, 
Advanced thus, to my enemies appenr'c] 
A hairy comet, threatening death and ruin J a 

To such as durst behold it ! These the legs, ' 

That, when our ships were grappled, carried me 



• all compassion 

* * * 

0/ what &c.] The quarto reads, 

all compassion 

Of what lie was, or may be, if now pardmi'd ; 
Opon which Mr. M- Mason ob^erves, "This senience as if 
stands is not fense ; if the words all compasxirn are righi, 
we nnijt necessarily suppose that bring laid aside, or word- 
of a similar import, have been omitted in the piiuiing: but 
the most natural manner of amendii g ihe pa^sa^e, is by 
leading no compassion , the word haviny bein(r unilerstood " 
1 can neither reconcile myself to no fomjuo.w/ow q/'tt'/ia/ A< 
may be, nor to all. He might, if acquitted, be a successful 
commander as before, and to such a cireunistance Beaufort 
evidently alliules. I believe that a line U lot, and with due 
hesitation would propose lo supply the chasm somewhat in 
this way : 

all compassion 

Of his years pass'd over, all consideration 
Of w hid he was, or may be, if noiv pardon'd 
VI e lit, ike. 
t Malef. sen. /Jtte I onoe more Ac' There is something 
very striking in the indignant burst of savage o-lentation 
with which this old warrior iulroduces himself on the sceae. 
i A hairy comet, Aic' So in Fvimvs Troes : 

" comets shook their flaming hair ; 

Thus all our wars were acted (irst on high. 
And we taught what to look lor." 
From this, and the passage in Ihe text, Millon, who appears, 
by various marks of imitation, to have been a careful reader 
of Massineer, probably formed the magnificent and awful 
picture which foHows: 

" On the oiher side. 

Incensed with indignation, Satan sloid 
Tlnterrified, and like a comet burn'd. 
That fires Ihe length of Ophiucus huge 
In the arctic sky, and from his lioirid hair 

Shahes pe^tilence and war." 

(k more explicit illuslration may be quoted from PhilcBiel 
Holland's translation of Pliny, b. ii. c. 2.') 

" These bla/iug starres ihe Greeki s cA\ cometas our Ro- 
manes crmi7as ; dreadfid lobe scene with liloudie hairet, 
and all over rough and shagged in tiie top, like the bush o/ 
' of haire upon the head.) Ed. 



\ 



f.F.NE I.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



3f 



With such swift motion from deck to deck, 
As tliey that saw it, with amazement cried, 
He does not run, hut flies ! 

Mont. He still retains 
The greatness of his spirit. 

Malef. sen. Now crampt with irons, 
Hunger, and cold, tliey hardly do support me — 
But I forget myself. O, my good lords. 
That sit there as my judges, to determine* 
The life and death of IVIalefort, where are now 
Those shouts, those cheerful looks, those loud ap- 
plauses. 
With which, when I return'd loaden with spoil. 
You entertain'd your admiral ? all's forgotten : 
And I stand here to give ac(rount ot that 
Of which I am as free and innocent 
As he that never saw the eves of him t, 
For whom I stand suspected. 

Beaiif. sen. Monsieur Malefort, 
Let not your passion so far transport you, 
As to believe from any private malice, 
Or envy to your jiersnn, you are question 'd : 
Nor do the suppositions want weight, 
'J'hat do invite us to a strong assurance. 

Your sou 

Malef. sen. ]\Iy shame ! 

Beaiif. sen. Prav you, hear with patience, — never 
Without assistance or sure aids from you. 
Could, witli the pirates of ArgiersJ and Tunis, 
Kven those that you liad almost twice defeated, 
Acquire such credit, as with tliera to he 
jMade absolute commander (.pray you observe me) ; 
If there had not some contract pass'd between you. 
That, when occasion served, you would join with 
To the ruin of I\L\rseilles. [them, 

Mont. More, what urged 
Your son to turn a])ostata § ? 

Cham. Had he from 
The state, or governor, the least neglect 
Which envv could interpret for a wrong ? [could 
Lan. Or, if you slept not in your charge, how 
So many ships as do infest out coast,. 
And have in our own harbour shut our navy, 
Come in unfought with ? 

Beanf. jun. They put him hardly to it. 
Malef. sen. My lords, with as much brevity as I can, 
I'll answer eacli particular objection [which 

With which you charge me. The main ground, on 
You raise the building of your accusation. 
Hath reference to my son : should I now curse him, 
Or wish, in the agony of my troubled soul. 
Lightning had found him in his mother's womb. 
You'll say 'tis from the purpose ; and I therefore 
Betake him to the devil, and so leave him. 
Did never loyal father but myself 
Beget a treacherous issue ? was't in me 
With as much ease to fashion up his mind. 
As in his generation to form 
The organs to his body 1 Must it follow, 

* That ait there as my judyrs, to determine,1 J/y, which 
completes the metre, is now tiist inserted from ihe old copy. 

+ The eyes of him] So the old copy : the modern editors 
read eye .' 

J Could with the pirates of Argiers] Argiers is the old 
readini;, and is tli.il of every author of Massinger's time. 
(So in ihe 7'tmprsl, 

" Prospero. Where was she born ? speak ; tell me. 

Ariel. Sir, in Aigier " — Kd.) 
The cdiiois inv.iri-<bly mnderiiize it into Algiers. 

j Your snn to tarn ;ipost:ita]i'he modern editors, as before, 
read apostate ! (See note to Viryirt Martyr, act iv. 
•cene iii. — KuJ c 



I5eciiuse that he is impious, I am false ? — — 

I would not boast my actions, yet 'tis lawful 

To upbraid my benefits to unthankful men. 

Who sunk the Turkish gallies in the strei-^hts. 

But Malefort? Who rescued the French mercliants 

Wlien they were boarded, and stow'd under hatchea 

By tlie pirates of Argiers, when every minute 

They did expect to be chain'd to the oar, 

But your now doubted admiral? then you fill'd 

The air with shouts of joy, and did proclaim, 

When hope had left tiiem, and grim-look'd despair 

Hover'd with sail-stretch'd wings over their heads* 

To me, as to the Neptune of the sea, 

They owed the restitution of their goods. 

Their lives, their liberties. O, can it then 

Be iirobable, my lords, that he that never 

Became tlie master of a pirate's ship. 

But at the mainyard hung ti)e captain up, 

And caused (he rest to be thrown over-board; 

Should, after all these proofs of deadly hate. 

So oft express'd against them, entertain 

A tlioughi of ([uarter with them ; but much less 

(To the perpetual ruin of my glories) 

To join with them to lift a wicked arm 

Against my mother-country, this Marseilles 

Wliich, with my prodigal expense of blood, 

I h ive so oft protected ! 

Beanf. sen. What you have done 
Is granted and applauded ; but yet know 
This glorious relation! of your actions 
Must not so blind (iui judgments, as to suffer 
'J liis most unnatural crime you stand accused of 
To pass unquestion'd 

Cham. No ; you must produce 
Reasons of more validity and weight. 
To {)lead in your defence, or we shall hardly 
Conclude you innocent. 

Mont. The large volume of 
Your former worthy deeds, with your experience, 
Botli what, and when to do, hut makes a'uainst you. 
Lan. For had your care and courage been the same 
As heretofore, the dangers we are plunged in 
Had been with ease prevented. 

Malef. sen. What have I 
Omitted, in the power of flesh and blood 
Even in the birth to strangle the designs of 
This hell-bri-d wolf, my son ? alas ! my lords, 
I am no god, nor like him could foresee 
His cruel thoughts, and cursed purposes ; »* 

Nor would the sun at my command forbear 
To make his progress to the other n orld, 
Aftbrding to us one continued light. 
Nor could my breath disperse those foggy mists, 
Cover'd with which, and darkness of the :iight. 
Their navy undiscern'd, without resistance. 
Beset our harbour : make not that my fault. 
Which you in justice must ascribe to fortune. — 



* Ilover'd with sail stretch 'd wings over their heads.] S« 
Jonson : 

" o'er our heads 

Bbick ravenous rnin, -with her sail stretch' d wingi, 

Ueady to sink us down, and cover u.*." 

Kvery Man out of hii Humour. 
And Fletcher: 

" Fi\ here and re«t awhile your sail-stretch'd vjings. 

That have outsiript the winds." T/ie Prvpheteia. 

Milton, too, has the same bold expression : the urisjinal to 
which tliey are all indebted, is a sublime pafsaije in the 
Fairy Queen. B. I.e. xi.st. in, 

t I'his 'iXuncms, relation.] Our old writers frequently u»« 
this woid in the sense of ^/oriosus, vain, boastiul, osteif 
tatious. 



S8 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act.T 



But if that nor my former acts, nor what 

I have deliver'd, can prevail with you. 

To make e^ood my integrity and truth ; 

Rip up tliis bosom and pluck out the heart 

That hath been ever loyal. [A trumpet within. 

Beaitf. sen. How ! a trumpet! 
Enquire the cause. [Exit Montreville. 

Male/, sen. Thou searcher of men's hearts, 
And sure defender of the innocent, 
(My other crying sins — awhile not look'd on) 
If I in this am guilty, strike me dend, 
Or by some unexpected means confirm, 
I am accused unjustly ! [Aside. 

Re-enter Montreville with a Sea Captain. 

Beauf. sen. Speak the motives 
1 hat bring thee hither ? 

Ciipt. From our admiral thus : 
He does salute you fairly, and desires 
It may be understood no public hate 
Hath brought him to Marseilles; nor seeks he 
The ruin of his country, but aims only 
To wreak a private wrong : and if from you 
He may iiave leave* and liberty to decide it 
In single combat, he'll give up good pledges, 
If he fall in the trial of his right. 
We shall weigh anchor, and no more molest 
This town with hostile arms. 

Beniif. sen. Speak to the man, 
If in this presence he appear to you 
To whom you bring this cliallenge. 

Cajit. ' f is to you. 

Beauf. sen. His father ! 

Montr. Can it be ? 

Beauf. jun. Strange and prodigious ! 

Malef. sen. Thou seest I stand unmoved : were 
thy voice thunder, 
It should not shake me; say, what would the viper? 

Ciipt. I he.reverenceafatlier's name may challenge. 
And duty of a son no more remember'd, 
He does defy thee to ilie death. 

Malef. sen. Go on. [head, 

Capt. And with his sword will prove it on thy 
Thou art a murderer, an atheist ; 
And that all attributes of men turn'd furies 
Cannot express thee ; this he will make good. 
If thou dar'st give him meeting. 

Malef. sen. Dare I live ! 
Dare I, when mountains of my sins o'erwhelm me, 
At my last gasp ask for mercy ! how I bless 
Thy coming, captain ; never man to me 
Arrived so opportunely ; and thy message. 
However it may seem to threaten death. 
Does yield to me a second life in curing 
My wounded honour. Stand I yet suspected 
As a confederate with this enemy, 
Whom of all men, against all ties of nature, 
He marksout for destruction ! you are just, 
Immortal Powers, and in this, merciful ; 
And ii takes from my sorrow, and my shame 
For being the father to so bad a son. 



and if front you 



He may have ieave, &c.] This passage is very incorrectly 
{Minted in the foruier edilioii«. 



In that you are pleased to offer up the monster 

To my correction. Blush and repent 

As you are bound, my honourable lords, 

Your ill opinions of me. Not great Brutus 

The father of the Roman liberty 

With more assured constancy beheld 

His traitor sono, for labouring to call home 

The banish 'd 'i'arquins, scourged with rods to deatb 

Than 1 will shew, when I take back tlie life 

This prodigy of mankind received from me. 

Beauf. sen. We are sorry, monsieur JMalefort 
for our error. 
And are much taken with your resolution j 
But the disparity of years and strength. 
Between you and your son, duly consider'd. 
We would not so expose you. 

Malef. sen. Then you kill me, 
Under pretence to save me. my lords, 
As you love honour, and a wrong'd man's fame. 
Deny me not this fair and noble means 
To make me right again to all the world. 
Should any other but myself be chosen 
To punish this apostata with death*. 
You rob a wretched father of a justice 
That to all after times will be recorded. 
I wish his strength were centuple, his skill equal 
To my experience, that in his fall 
He may not shame my victory ! I feel 
The powers and spirits of twenty strong men in me 
Were he with wild fire circled, I undaunted 
Would make way to him. — As you do affect, sir. 
My daughter Theocrinef ; as you are 
My true and ancient friend ; as thou art valiant^ j 
And as all love a soldier, second me 

[Theif all sue to the goieriur 
In this my just petition. In your looks 
I see a grant, my lord. 

Beauf. sen. You shall o'erbear m6 ; 
And since you are so confident in your cause, 
Prepare you for the combat. 

Malef. sen. With more joy 
Than yet I ever tasted': by the next sun. 
The disobedient rebel shall hear from me, 
And so return in safety. [Tu the Captain.] My 

good lords. 
To all my service, — I will die, or purchase 
Rest to l\Iarseilles ; nor can I make doubt, 
But his impiety is a potent charm. 
To edge my sword, and add strength to my arm. 

[Exeunt. 

* To punith this apostata with death.] Bi)th the eililorz 
rend. To punish this aposVdte aoti with death .' Here is the 
iiiiscliief of altering an antlior's language. Wlicn llie metre 
does not snit our new fanglcd terms, we are obliged to insert 
words of our own to complete it. Apottata stoo<l in the 
verse very well : but Coxeler and M. Mason having deter- 
mined to write apos^a^e, found themselves compelled to tack 
ion to it, and thus enl'eebbd tl'e original expression. 

f My daughter Thcocrine ;] Theocrine is constantly used 
as a quadris^yllable. It should be observed that a< the story 
and the names are French, Massinger adopts the French 
mode of enouncing them. The reader must bear this in 
miod. 

J as thou art valiant;] This is said to the 

captain who brought the challenge : the other persons ad- 
jured are loung Beaufort and Montreville. It appears, from 
the pointing of the former editions, that the passage was not 
understood. 



SCENB I.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



ACT II 



SCENE I.— An open Space u.ithout the City. 
Enter three Sea Captiiins. 

2 Ciipt. He did accept the challenge, then? 

1 Ciipt. Nav more, 
Was overjov'd in't ; and, as it had been 
A fmr invitement to a solemn feast. 
And not a combat to conclude with death, 
He clieerfully embraced it. 

.'J Ciipt Are the articles 
Sisn'd to on botli parts ? 

1 Capt. At the father's suit, 

Witli much unwillingness the governor 
Consented to them. 

2 dipt. You are inward with 

Our admiral ; could you yet never learn 
What the nature of the quarrel is, that renders 
The son more than incensed, implacable, 
Against tlie father ? 

1 Capt. Never ; yet I have, 

As far as manners would give warrant to it. 

With my best curiousness of care observed him. 

I have sat v/ith him in his cabin a day together*, 

Vet not a syllable exchanged between us 

Sigh he did often, as if inward grief 

And melancholy at that instant would 

Choke up his vital spirits, and now and then 

A tear or two, as in derision of 

The toughness of his rugged temper, would 

Fall on his hollow cheeks, which but once felt, 

A sudden flash of furv did dry up ; 

And lavinij then his hand upon his sword. 

He would murmur, but vet so as I oft heard him, 

We shall meet, cruel father, yes, we shall ; 

When I'll exact, for every womanish drop 

Of sorrow from these eyes, a strict accompt 

Of much more from thy heart. 

2 Capt. ' Tis wondrous strange. 

3 Capt. And past my apprehension. 

1 Capt. Yet what makes 

The miracle greater, when from the maintop 

A sail's descried, all thoughts that do concern 

Himself laid by, no lion, pinch'd with hunger, 

Rouses himself more fiercely from his den, 

Than he comes on the deck ; and there how wisely 

He gives directions, and how stout he is 

In his executions, we, to admiration, 

Have been eyewitnesses : yet he never mind's 

I he booty when 'tis made ours : but as if 

The danger, in the purchase of the prey, 

l.^elighted him much more than the reward. 

His will made known, he does retire himself 

To his private contemplation, no joy 

Express'd by him for victory. 

Enter ^Iai^efort junior. 

2 Capt. Here he comes. 

But with more cheerful looks than ever yet 
I saw him wear. 

Malef.jun. It was long since resolved on. 
Nor must I stagger now [in't-f]. May the cause. 
That forces me to this unnatural act. 



• / have sat with him in his cabin, &c.] This beautiful 
passable, expressing concealed resentment, deserves to be 
remarked by every reader of taste and judgment. Coxeter. 

■» Xor tntist I ttaijyernow in't]. In tlie old copy, a syl- 
lable lias di'upt out, wliicli renders the line quite unnietrical. 



Be buried u» everlasting silence, 

And 1 find rest in death, or my revenge! 

To either I stand equal. Pray you, gentlemen, 

Be charitable in your censures of me, 

And do not entertain a false belief 

That I am mad, for undertaking that 

Which must be, when eflPected, still repented. 

It adds to my calamity, that 1 have 

Discourse* and reason, and but too well know 

I can nor live, nor end a wretched life. 

But both ways I am impious. Do not, therefore, 

Ascribe the peiturbation (>f my soul 

To a servile fear of death : I oft have view'd 

All kinds of his inevitable darts, 

Nor are they terrible. Were I condemn'd to leap 

From the cloud-cover'd brows of a steep rock, 

Into the deep ; or Curtius like, to fill up. 

For my country's safety, and an after name, 

A bottomless abyss, or charge through fire. 

It could not so much shake me, as th' encounter 

Of this day's single enemy. 

1 Capt. If you please, sir. 
You may shun it, or defer it. 

Malef.jun. Not for the world : 
Yet two things I entreat you : the first is. 
You'll not enquire the difference between 
Rlyself and him, wliich as a father once 
I honour'd, now my deadliest enemy ; 
The last is, if I fall, to bear my body 
Far from this place, and where you please inter it— 
I should say more, but by his sudden coming 
I am cut off. 

Enter Beaufort jimior and Montrevilt.e, leading in 
Malefort senior ; liv.i.GAnDEj'vUirwing, with others. 
Beauf.jun. Let me, sir, have the honour 
To be your second. 



I have no £;reat confidence in the genuineness of what Ihave 
inserted between brackets : it is harndess, liowever, and 
serves, as FaUlalt sajs, to Idl a pit as well as a better. 
• It adds to my calamity, that I have 

Discourse and reason ] It is very difficult to determine 
the precise meaning which our ancestors gave to discourse , 
or to distinguish the line wliicli separated it from reason. 
Perhaps it indicated a more rapid deduction of c>n.sequencea 
from premises, than was supposed to be etlected by rea- 
son :— bnt I speak with hesitation. The acute Glanville says, 
" The act of the mind wliich connects propositions, and 
dc(hicetli conclusions from them, the schools called discourse, 
anil we shall not miscall it, if we name it reason." What- 
ever be the sense, it frequently appears in our old writer*, 
by whom it is u-uall> coupled with reason or judfftnent, 
which la>t shouUl seem to be the more proper word. Thus 
iathe City Madam; 

■ — ' Such as want 

Discourse and judgement, and through weakness faU, 

May merit men's loinpassion." 
Again, in the Coxcomb: 

" Why should a man that has discourse and reason, 

And knows how neai he loses all in these things. 

Covet to have his wi.-hes satisfied?" 
The reader remembers the exclamation of Hamlet 
" Oh heaven ! a beast that wants discourse o/ reason, See. 

"This," says Warburton, who contrived to blunder with 
more ingenuity tlian usually fdls to the lot of a conimenla- 
. tor, ' is finely expres.sed, and with a philosophical exactness ! 
Beasts want not reason," (this is a new discovery,) " but the 
discourse of recson : i. e. the regular inferring one tiling 
from another by the assi-tance of univirsals" ! Discourse 
({/"reason is so poor and perplexed a phrase, that without 
regard for the " philosophical exactness" of Sliakspeare, I 
should dismiss it at once, for what 1 believe to be his genuine 
language : 
" O heaven I a beast that wants disconrte and reason," & 



40 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT, 



[Act H 



Montr. With your pardon, sir, 
^ must, put in for th-.it, since our tried friendship 
Hath lusted from our infancy. 

Belg. I have served 
Under your command, and you have seen me fight, 
And handsomely, thouoh I say it; and if novi^*. 
At this downright game, I may but hold your cards, 
I'll not pull down the side. 

Malef. sen. I rest much bound 
To ynur so noble offers, and I hope 
Shall find your pardon, though I now refuse them; 
For which I'll yield strong reasons, but as briefly 
As the time will give me leave. For me to borrow 
(That am supposed the weaker) any aid 
From the assistance of my second's sword. 
Might write me down in the black list of those 
That have nor fire nor spirit of their own ; 
But dare, and do, as they derive their courage 
From his example, on whose help and valoui 
They wholly do depend. Let this suffice 
In my excuse for that. Now, if you please, 
On both parts, to retire to yonder mount, 
Where you, as in a Roman theatre, 
May see the bloody difference determined, 
Your favours meet my wishes. 

Malef. jun. 'Tis approved of 
By me ; and I command you [To his Captains \ lead 

the way. 
And leave me to my fortune. 

Beauf.jun. I would gladly 
Be a spectator (since I am denied 
To be an actor) of each blow and thrust, 
And punctually observe them. 

Malef. jun. You shall have 
All you desire; for in a word or two 
I must make bold to entertain the time 
If he give suffrage to it. 

Malef. sen. Yes, 1 will ; 
I'll hpar thee, and then kill thee : nay, farewell. 

Malef. jun. Embrace with love on both sides, and 
Leave deadly hate and fury. [with us 

Malef. sen. From this place 
You ne'er shall see both living. 

Belg. What's past help, is 
Beyond prevention. 

[They embrace on both sides, and take leave 
severallii of the father and son. 

Malef. sen. Now we are alone, sir ; 
And thou hast liberty to unload the burthen 
Which thou groan 'st under. Speak thy griefs. 

Malef. jun. I shall, sir ; 
But in a perplex'd form and method, which 
You only can interpret : Would you had not 
A guilty knowledge in your bosom, of 

and if now. 



At this downright gaine, I may but hold your cards, 
I'll not pull dnwii the sirlu.] i. e. I'll not injure yiHir 
cause : the same expression occurs in the Grand Duke of 
florence : 

" Cos. Pray you pause a little. 

If I hold your cards, I shall pull down the side, 
I am not good at the game." 
The allusion is to a party at cards : to set vp a s'de, was to 
become partners in a game ; to pull or pluck down a side 
(for both these terms are found in our old plajs) was to 
occasion its loss by ignorance or treachery. 'I'hus. in the 
Parson's IVeddiny '■ 

"Pleas A traitor! bind him, \\c \\.\?, pull' d down a side." 
And in the Maid's Tragedy ; 

Evad. Aspatia, take her part. 
Dela. I will refuse it, 
" She will pluck down a side, she does not nse it." 



The lansjuage which you force me to deliver. 

So I were nothing ! As you are my father, 

I bend my knee, and, uncompell'd, profess 

]My life, and all that's mine, to be your gift; 

And t! at in a son's duty I stand bound 

To lay this head beneath your feet, and run 

All desperate hazards for your ease and safety. 

But this confest on my part, I rise up 

And. not as with a father, (all resjiert. 

Love, fear, and reverence cast off, ) but as 

A wicked man, 1 thus expostulate with you. 

Wliy have you done that which I dare nnt speak 

And in the action changed the humble shape 

Of my obedience, to rebidlious ra;;e, [me, 

And insolent ])ride ? and with shut eyes constrain'd 

To run my bark of honour on a shelf 

I must not see, nor, if 1 saw it, shun it ? 

In my wrongs nature suffers, and looks backward. 

And mankind trembles to see me pursue 

What beasts would fly from. For when I advance 

This sword, as I must do, against your head. 

Piety will weep, and filial duty mourn, 

To see their altars which you built up in me. 

In a moment razed and ruin'd. *That you could 

(From my grieved soul I wish it) but produce, 

To' qualify, not excuse, jour deed of horror, 

One seeming reason, that I might fix here, 

And move no further ! 

Malef. sen. Have I so far lost 
A father's power, that I must give account 
Of my actions to my son ? or must I plead 
As a fearful prisoner at the bar, while he 
That owes his being to me sits a judge 
To censure that, which only by myself 
Ought to he question d? mountains sooner full 
Beneath their valleys, and the lofty pine 
Pay homage to the bramble, or what else i.^ 
Preposterous in nature, ere my tong'ue 
In one short syllable yields satisfaction 
To any doubt of thine ; nay, though it were 
A certainty disdaining ars^ument ! 
Since, though my deeds wore hell's black livery, 
To thee they should apjiear triumi)hal robt's. 
Set off with glorious honour, thou beinsj; bouad 
To see wiih my eves, and to hold that reason. 
That takes or birth or fashion from my wiil. 

Malef. jun. This sword divides that slavi^i knot. 

Malef. sen. It cannot : 
It cannot, wretch ; and if thou but remember, 
From whom thou hadst this sj)irit, thou dar'st not 

hope it. 
Who train'd thee up in arms but I ? Who taught 

thee 
Men were men only when they durst look down 
With scorn on death and danger, and contemn'd 
All opposition, till plumed X^ictoryf 
Had made her constant stand upon their helmets? 



* That you could &c.] that, &c. This omission of the 
sign of the optative interjection is common to all our old 
diaiiiati^ts. 

t • till plumed Victory 

Had made her constant stand upon their helmets.'] Tliia 
noble image seems to have been copied b) jMilton, who 
describing Satan, says, 

" His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest 

Sat Horror plumed;" 

And, in another place : 

" ■ at his right hand Victory 

Sat eagle-viny'd." 

The whole speech of Malefort here noticed is Inily sublime, 
and above all commendation. Cuxkter. 



Scene IH 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



41 



Under my shield thou hast fought as securely 

As the young eaglet, cover'd with the wings 

Of her fiercedam, learns how and where to prey. 

All tliat is manly in thee, I call mine ; 

But what is weak and womanish, thine own. 

And wliat I gave, since tliou art proud, ungrateful. 

Presuming to contend with him, to wliom 

Submission is due, I will take from thee. 

Look, iherefore, for extremities, and expect not 

I will correct thee as a son, hut kill thee 

As a serpent swollen with poison ; who surviving 

A little long-er, with infectious breath, 

Would render all things near him, like itself, 

Contagious. Nay, now my anger's up. 

Ten thousand virgins kneeling ut my feet, 

And with one general cry howling for mercy, 

Shall not redeem thee. 

Malef.jiin. Tiiou incensed Power, 
Awliile forbear thy thunder ! let me have 
No aid in my revenge, if from the grave 
My mother 

Male/, sen. Thou shalt never name her more. 

[Theyfght. 

Beaufort junurr, Montreville, Bei.garde, and the 
three Sea Captains, appear on the Mount. 

Beauf.jun. They are at it. 

2 Capt. That thrust was put strongly home, 

Montr. But with more strength avoided. 

Bet;j,. Well come in ; 
He has drawn blood of him yet : well done, old 

1 Capt. That was a strange miss. [cock. 
Beauf.jun. That a certain hit. 

[Young MaleJ'ort is slain. 
Belg. He's fallen, the day is ours' 

2 Capt. The admiral's slain. 
Montr. The father is victorious ! 
Belg. Let us haste 

To gratnlati- his conquest. 

1 Capt. We to mourn 
The fortune of the son. 

Beauf.jun. With utmost speed 
Acquaint the governor with the good success, 
That he may entertain, to his full merit. 
The father of his country's peace and safety. 

[They retire. 

Malef. sen. Were a new life hid in each mangled 
limb, 
I would search, and find it : and howe'er to some 
I may seem cruel thus to tyrannize 
Upon this senseless flesh, I glory in it : — , 

That I have power to be unnatural. 
Is my security ; die all my fears, 
And waking jealousies, which have so long 
Been m}' tormentors! there's now no suspicion • 
A fact whicli 1 alone am conscious of, 
Can never be discover'd, or the cause 
That call'd this duel on, I being above 
All perturbations ; nor is it in 
The power of fate, again make me wretched. 
Re-enter Beaufort jiou'or.MoNTREviLLE, Belgarde, 
and the three Sea Captains. 

Beanf. jvn. All honour to the conqueror ! who 
dares tai 
My friend of treachery now ? 

(Pope uses the same fi|;iire in the Odyssey 0, xix. 
" Auxiliar to liis son, Ulj sses bears 

Thf phimy crested Uilins. and pointed spears 

Willi shields indented deep iu glorious wais." Ed.) 



Betg. 1 am very glad, sir, [much. 

You have sped so well : but I must tell you thus 
To put you in mind that a low ebb must follow 
Your high swoll'n tide of happiness, you have pur- 
This honour at a high price. [chased 

Malef. 'Tis, Belgarde, 
Above all estimation, and a little 
To be exalted with it cannot savour 
Of arrogance. 'J hat to this arm and sword 
Marseilles owes the freedom of her fears. 
Or that my loyalty, not long since eclipsed. 
Shines now more bright than ever, are not things 
To be lamented : though, indeed, they may 
Appear too dearly bought, my falling glories 
Being made uji again, and cemented 
With a son's blood. 'Tis true, he was my son, 
While he was worthy ; but when he shook off" 
His duty to me, (which my fond indulgence. 
Upon submission, might perhaps have pardon'd,) 
And grew his country's enemy, I look'd on him 
As a stranger to my family, and a traitor 
Justly proscribed, and he to be rewarded 
That could brin^ in his head. I know in this 
'I hat I am censured rugged, and austere, 
That will vouchsafe not one sad sigh or tear 
Upon his slaughter'd body : but 1 rest 
A\ell satisfied in myself, being assured 
That extraordinary virtues, when they soar 
Too liigh a pitch for common sights to judge of, 
Losing their proper splendour, are condemn'd 
For most remarkable vi(es'. 

Beauf.jun. 'Tis too true, sir. 
In the opinion of the multitude ; 
But for myself, that would be held your friend. 
And hope to know you by a nearer name. 
They are as they deserve, received. 

Malef. IMy daughter 
Shall thank 3 ou for the favour. 

Beauf.jun. I can wish 
No happiness beyond it. 

1 Capt. Shall we have leave 
To bear the corpse of our dead admiral, 
As he enjoin'd us, from tlie coast ? 

Malef. Provided 
The articles agreed on be observed. 
And you depart hence with it, making oath 
Never hereafter, but as friends, to touch 
Upon this shore. 

1 Capt. We'll faithfully perform it. 
Malef. Then as you phase dispose of it : 'tis an 
object 
That I could wish removed. His sins die with him 
So far he has my charity. 
1 Capt. He shall have 
A soldier's funeral. 

[The Captains bear the body off with sad musi4. 
Malef. Farewell ! 
Beauf.jun. These rites 
I'aid to the dead, the conqueror that survives 
Must reap the harvest of his bloody labour. 
Sound all loud instruments of joy and triumph. 
And with all circumstance and ceremony. 
Wait on the pairon of our liberty. 
Which he at all parts merits. 



♦ For most remarkable vices^ Bemarkahle had in Ma»- 
singer's time a more dijinilied sound, and a more apfr«>- 
prirftc meaning, tlian it hears at present. Willi him it (•..)» 
stantly stands fur suri-iisin;;, highly slriliing, or observablt in 
an uncommon det;ree ; ot this it will be well to take nulice. 



49 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



fAtn- II. 



Malef. I am honour'd 

Beyond inv liopes. 

Beauf.jun. Tis short of your deserts. 
Lead on : oh, sir, you must ; vi>u are too modest. 

[E.i eunt with loud music. 

SCENE II. — A Room in INIai.efort's House. 

Enter Theocrine, Page, and Waiting Women. 

Theoc. Talk not of comfort ; I am both ways 
wretched, 
And so distracted with my doubts and fears, 
I know not where to fix my liopes. My loss 
Is certain in a father, or a brother, 
Or both ; such is the cruelty of my fate, 
And not to be avoided. 

1 Worn. You must bear it, 

With patience, madam. , 

2 Worn. And what's not in you 

To he prevented, should not cause a sorrow 
Which cannot help it. 

Pujre. Fear not my brave lord, 
Your noble father; fiohting is to him 
Familiar as eating. He can teach 
Our modern duellists how to cleave a button, 
And in a new way, never )'et found out 
By old Caranzi*. 

t Worn. May he be victorious, 
And punish disobedience in his son ! 
Whose death, in reason, should at no part move you. 
He being but half your brother, and the nearness 
Which that might challenge from you, forfeited 
By his impious purpose to kill him, from whom 
He received life. \_A shout within. 

2 Worn. A general shout — 

1 Worn. Of joy. 

J'cge. Look up, dear lady ; sad news never came 
Usher'd with loud applause. 

Theoc. I stand ])repared 
To endure the shock of it. 

Enter Usher. 

Ush. I am out of breath. 
With running to deliver first — 

Theon. What? 

Ush. We are all made. 
My lord has won the day ; your brother's slain ; 
The pirates gone : and by the governor. 
And states, and all the men of war, he is 
Brought home in triumph : — nay, no musing, pay me 
For my good news hereafter, 

Theoc. Heaven is just ! [meet him. 

Ush. Give thanks at leisure ; make all haste to 
I could wish I were a horse, that I might bear you 
To him upon my back. 

Puge. Thou art an ass. 
And this is a sweet burthen. 

Ush. Peace, you crack-rope ! \_Exeunt, 



SCENE III.-^ Street. 

Loud music. E;i/erMoNTnEviLi.K, Bei.garde, Beai;- 
FOHT senior, HE.wFonTJittiinr; MAi.v:f out, followed 
by Montaigne, Chamont, and Lanour. 
Beauf. sen. All honours we can give you, and 
rewards, 
T Lough all that's rich or precious in Marseilles 
Weie laid down at your feet, can hold no weight 



• By old Caranza.^ See the Guardian, Vol. IV. p. 175. 



With your de^ervings : let me glory in 

Your action, as if it were mine own ; 

And have tlie honour, with the anns of love, 

To embrace the great performer of a deed 

Transcending all this country e'er could boast of. 

Mont. Imagine, noble sir, in what we may 
Express our thankfulness, and rest assured 
It shall be freelv granted. 

Cham. He's an enemy 
To goodness and to virtue, that dares think 
Tiiere's any thing within our power to give *, , 
Which you in justice may not boldly chillenge, 

Lan. And a-i your own ; for we will ever bo 
At your devotion. 

Malef. Much honour'd sir. 
And yi)u, my noble lords, I can say only, 
Tlie greatness of your favours overwhelms me. 
And like too large a sail, for the small bark 
Of my poor merits, sinks me. That I stand 
Ifpright in your opinions, is an honour 
Exceeding my deserts, 1 having done 
Nothing but what in duty 1 stood bound to; 
And to expect a recompense were base, 
Good deeds being ever in themselves rewarded. 
Yet since your liberal bounties tell me that 
1 may, with your allowance, be a suitor. 
To you, my lord, I am an humble one, 
And must ask that, which known, I fear you will 
Censure me over bold. 

Beauf. sen. It must be something 
Of a strange nature, if it_find from me 
Denial or delay. 

Malef. Thus then, my lord. 
Since you encourage me : You are happy in 
A worthy son, and all the comfort that 
Fortune has left me, is one daughter ; now. 
If it may not ajipear too much presumption. 
To seek to match my lowness with your height 
1 should desire (and if I may obtain it, 
I write nil ultra to my largest hopes) 
She may in your opinion be thought worthy 
To be rect'ived into your family. 
And married to your son : their years are equal. 
And their desires, I think, too; she is not 
Ignoble, nor my state contemptible, 
And if you think me worthy your alliance, 
'Tis all I do as])ire to. 

Beauf.jun. You demand 
That wliich with all the service of my life 
I should have labour'd to obtain from you 

sir, why are you slow to meet so fair 

And noble an offer ? can France shew a virgjin 
That may be parallel'd with her? is she not 
The pha-nix of the time, the fairest star 
In the bright sphere of women ? 

Beauf sen. Be not rapt so : 
Though I dislike not what is motion 'd, yet 
In what so near concerns me, it is fit 

1 should proceed with judgment. 

Enter Usher, Theocrine, Page, and Waiting Women, 

Beauf.jun. Here she comes : 
Look on her with impartial eyes, and then 
Let envy, if it can, name one graced featur>i 
In which she is defective. 

* Therr'a an;/ thing tcithin our poucr to t/we,] The old 
copy inciinecliy nails, There's any oilur thmy <\c, and in 
the next S|)ttili, oviTwhclm lor ovcrwhilm.H — lliv last is so 
common a iiioile of cx]ii«.'S>ion, that I should not have cor- 
rected it, if iinkt had not inuuudiitely foUowtd. 



Scene I.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



43 



Malef. Welcome girl ! 
My joy, my comfort, my deliglit, my all, 
Why dost tliou come to srreet my victory 
In such a sable habit? this shevv'd well 
When thy father was a prisoner, and suspected ; 
But now his faitli and loyalty are admired, 
Rather than doubted, in your outward garments 
You are to express the joy you feel within : 
Nor should you with more curiousness and care 
Pace to the temple to be made a bride. 
Than now, when all men's eyes are fixt upon you. 
You should appear to entertain the honour 
From me descendin": to you, and in which 
You have an equal share. 

Theoc. Heaven has my thanks, 
With all humility paid for your fair fortune, 
And so far duty hinds me ; yet a little 
To mourn a brother's loss, however wicked. 
The tenderness familiar to our sex 
May, if you please, excuse. 

Malef. Thou art deceived. 
He, living, was a blemish to thy beauties, 
But in his death gives ornament and lustre 
To thy perfections, but that they are 
So exquisitely rare, that they admit not 
'J'lie least addition. Ha ! here's yet a jirint 
Of a sad tear on thy cheek ; how it takes from 
Our present hajipiness ! with a father's lips 
A loving fither's lijis, I'll kiss it^off, 
The cause no more remember'd. 

Theoc. You forget, sir. 
The presence we are iij. 

M<def. 'lis well consider'd ; 
And yet, who is the owner of a treasure 
Above all value, but without oflence. 
May glory in the j^lad possession of it? 
Nor let it in your excellence beget wonder, 
Or any here, that looking on the daughter, 
I feast mvself in the iuu'.gination 
Of those sweet jileasures and allow'd delights, 
1 tasted from the mother, wlio siill lives 
In this her perfect model ; for she had 



Such smooth and high-arch'd brows, such sparkling 

eyes. 
Whose every glance stored Cupid's emptied quiver. 
Such ruby lips, — and such a lovely bloom*. 
Disdaining all adulterate aids of art. 
Kept a perpetual spring upon her face, 
As Death himself lamented, being forced 
To blast it with his paleness : and if now [you, 

Her brijihtness dimm'd with sorrow, take and please 
Think, think, young lord, when she appears herself, 
This veil removed, in her own natural pureness, 
How far she will transport you. 

Beauf.jun. Did she need it, 
The praise which you ( and well deserved) give to her, 
Must of necessity raise new desires 
In one indebted more to years ; to me 
Your words are but as oil pour'd on a fire, 
That flames already at the height. 

Malef. No more ; 
I do believe you, and let me from you 
Find so much credit ; wKen I make her yours, 
I do possess you of a gift which I 
With much unwillingness part from. My good lords 
Forbear your further trouble ; give me leave. 
For on the sudden I am indisposed. 
To retire to my own house, and rest : to-morrow. 
As you command me, I will be your guest. 
And having deck'd my daughter like herself, 
You shall have further conference. 

Beaiif, sen. You are master 
Of your own will : but fad not, I'll expect you. 

Malef. Nay, 1 will be excused ; 1 must ]>art with 
you. [To young Beaufort and the reit. 

My dearest Theocrine, give me thy hqnd, 
I will support thee. 

77!e<)c. You gripe it too hard, sir. 

Malef. Indeed 1 do, but have no further end init 
But love and tenderness, such as I may challenge, 
And you must grant. Thou art a sweet one ; yes, 
And to be chen>h'd. 

Theoc. May I still deserve it ! 

[ Exeunt secerai wayi. 



ACT III. 



SCENE ^.—A Banqueting Boom in Beaufort's House. 
Enter Beaufout senior, and Steward. 

Beatif, sen. Have you been careful ? 

Stew. With my best endeavours. 
Let them bring stomachs, there's no want of meat, sir, 
Portly and curious viands are prepared, 
To please all kinds of appetites. 

Beauf. sen. 'Tis well, 
I love a table furnish'd with fu'l plenty. 
And store (.'f friends to eat it : but with' this caution, 
I would not have my house a common inn, 
For some men that come rather to devour me, 
Than to present their service. At this time, too. 
It being a serious and solemn meeting, 
I must not have my board pester'd with shadows*, 

• I must not have my board pesfer'd viith shadows,] It 
was coiisiiltrtd, 1 liitHich s.iys, as a mark of poliifntss, to 
let ail iiivittd jjiust know that he was at libtrty to bring a 
friend "r two wiih hiin ; a (leriiiissioii tliat was, however, 
sometimes abused. These friends the Konians called 
tfiaddics, (umbra,) a term which Massinger has very hap- 
pily explained. 



That, under other men's protection, break in 
Without invitement. 

Suw. With your favour then, [knowledge 

You must double your guard, my lord, for on my 
There are some so sharp set, not to be kept out 
By a file of musketeers : and 'tis less danger. 
I'll undertake, to stand at push of pike 
With an enemy in a breach, that undermined too, 
And the cannon playing on it, than to stop 
One harpy, your perpetual guest, from entrance. 
When the dresser, the cook's drum, thunders, Come 
The service will be lost elsef ! [on» 



* Jtnd such a lovely bloom,] For this reading we are in- 
debted to Mr. M. Mason All the former editions read 
brvwn; which the concluding lines of this beautiful speech 
inconlestablv prove to_be a misprint, 
t When the dresser, the cook's drum, thunders. Come on, 
The service will be lost else .'] It was formerly customary 
for the cook, when dinner was ready, to knock on the 
dresser with his knife, by way of summoning the ser- 
vants to cany it into the hall; to this theie are many alio 
slons. In the Merry Heyyars, Old Rents sav« Hark 



M 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act III. 



Beauf. sen. What is he ? 

Stew. As t-.i'l a trenclierman*, that is most certain, 
As e'er deinolish'd pye-fortification 
As soon us b itter'cl ; and if the rim of liis belly 
Were not made up of a much tougher stuff 
Than his buff jerkin, there were no defiance 
Ag^ainst the chars;e of his g-uts : you needs nmst 
He's eminent for liis eatini^. [know him, 

Beauf. sen. (), Bel<^arde ? 

Stew. The same; one of the admiral's cas* captains, 
Who swearl-, there beings no war, nor liope of any, 
Tlie onlv drillins;' i^ to-eat devoutiv. 
And to be ever drinking; — that's allow *d of 
But they kn.)w not where to get it, there's the spite 
on't. 
Beauf. sen. The more their misery ; yet, if vou 
For tlii-; day put him off|. [cm. 

Stew It is beyond 
The invention of man. 

Beauf. sen. No: — say this only, [Whispers tn him. 
And as from me ; you apprehend me ? 
Stew. Yes, sir. 

Beauf. sen. But it must be done gravely. 
Stew. Never, doubt me, sir. 

Beauf. sea. We'll dine in the great room, but let 
the mu-iick 
And banquetjj be prepared here. [E,u7. 

Stew. This will make him 
Lose his dinner at the least, and that will vex him. 
As for the sweetmeats, when they are trod under 

foot. 
Let him take his share with the pages and the 
Or scramble in tlie rushes. [lackies, 

Enter Belgaiide. 

Belg. 'Tis near twelve ; 
I keep a watch within me never misses. 
Save thee, muster steward ! 

Stew. You are most welcome, sir. 

Belg. Has thy lord slept well to night? I come 
to enquire. 
I had a foolrsh dream, that, against my will, 
Carried me from my lodging, to learn only 
How lie's disposed. 

Stew. He's in most perfect health, sir. 

Bel<!;. Let me but see him feed heartily at dinner, 
And I'll believe so too ; for from that ever 
I make a certain judgment. 



hey knock to the dresser." Sei vanis were not Ihen al- 
lowed, us at imsuiit, lii tVcqiieiit the kitchen, lest Ihcy should 
interfere wiih ihe momentous concerns of the eooU. Mr. 
Reed s^ys lint this priclice " was continued in ihe family 
of Lord Kiiif.iK" raiid doiiblless in that of many other.-) 
" after ihe civil wars: in that nobleman's orders for the 
»ervanls of his hon-ehold, is the following : Then must he 
warn 'o Ihe ttresaer. Gentlemen and yeomen, to the dresser." 
01 I Hl.ijs xii 4.i(). 

• Steward. AsX.M a trencherman, Sic] Tall, in the lan- 
gtia^e c,f (inr old writers, meant stout, or nther bold and 
fearless ; but Ihey abused the word (of which they seen 
fond) in a ^reat variety of senses. A tall man of h's hands 
was a ijieat tisjhrer ; ^ ta'l man nfhis tonr/ue, a licention.s 
speaker ; and a tail man of his trencher , or, as above, a tall 
trencherman, a hearty feeder. Instances of these phrases 
occMr so freiiueiitly, that it would be a wa.ste of time to 
dwell npoii them. 

) /f ho sweir, &c.' So the old copy: the modern editors 
read sweats, thin which iiothin'^ can be more injudicious. 
I Re inf. sen. 'I'Jie wore their misery ; yet, if you can. 
For th's day ]iut him off] This his been hilherlo given 
as an iiiijieifect .speech ; why, il is dilhcultto imagine. 

i but let the music 

And binqmt he prepared here.] 'J'liat is, the dessert. See 
the Cty Madam. 



Stew. It holds surely 
In your own constitution. 

Belg. And in all men's, 
'Tis the best symptom ; let us lose no time.. 
Delay is dangerous. 

Stew. Troth, sir, if I might. 
Without offence, deliver what mv lord has 
Committed to my trust, I shall receive it 
As a special favour. 

Belg. We'll see it, and discourse, 
As the proverb says, for health sake, after dinner. 
Or nither after supper ; willingly then 
I'll walk a mile to hear thee*. 

Stew. Nay, good sir, 
I will be brief and pitljy. 

Belg. Prithee be so. 

Stew. He bid me say, of all his guests, that he 
Stands most affected to vou, for the freedom 
And plainness of your manners. He ne'er observed 
To twirl a disli about, you did not like of, [yoo 

All being pleasing to you ; or to take 
A suyt, of venison, or stale fowl, by your nose. 
Which, is a solecism at another's table , 
But by strong eating of tliem, did confirm 
They never were delicious, to your palace. 
But when they were mortified, as the Hugonot says. 
And so your part grows greater ; nor do you 
Find fault with the sauce, keen hunger being the 

best, 
Which ever, to your much praise, you bring with 
Nor will you with impertinent relations, [yo^ '. 

Which is a masterpiece when meat's before you. 
Forget your teeth, to use your nimble tongue, 
But do the feat you come for. 

Belg. Be advised. 
And end your jeering: for if you proceed, 
You'll feel, as I can eat I can be angry, 
And beating may ensue. 

Stew. I'll take your counsel. 
And roundly come to the point : my lord much 
That you, tbfit are a couitier m-n soldier, [wonders, 
In all things else, and every day can vary 
Your actions and discourse, continue constant 
To this one suit. 

Belg. To one ! 'tis well I have one, 
Unpawn *d, in these days ; every cast commander 
Is not blest with the fortune, I assure vou. 
But why this question ? does this offend him ? 

Stew. Not much ; but he believes it is the reason 
You ne'er presume to sit above the salt^ ; 



* Or rather after supper; willinf/ly then 

I'll walk a mile to hear thee \ Alhidiiin,tolhc good old pro 
verb, which inculcates ti inper.ince at this meal, by recom- 
nieiidiui; a walk after it. 

+ (In edit, of 181.i, Gilford h is a long note to this word to 
prove its dislliiction from assay, a tri.il, a proof. The same 
meaning attaches to say as lu Spenser's Faerie Queene, b. 
vi. c. ii. 

" Which wli.'n he spyde upon the earth t'^ncroach. 
'I'hroiigh the dead carca-es he made his way ; 
Mimgst which he found a sword of belter say. 
With which lie forth went into Ih' open light." 
In King Lear the wurd also occurs, meaning proof, and al- 
though somewhat ditiereiit in the application, this is evi- 
denily the sense here intended. Our ance-iors Joubtlesi 
considered the word synonini"iis with taste. Eo ) 

X y'oii ne'er presume to sit above th>- salt ; This refers to 
Ihe manner in which our aiices'ms were usually seated at 
their meals. The tables being long, the sdt was commonly 
placed about the middle, and served as a kind of boundary 
to lliP ditt'ereiit quality of the guests invited. Those ot dis- 
tinction were ranked above: Ihe splice below was a signed 
to the dependents, inferior relaiions of the master of the 
house, &o It argues litt'e ''or 'he delicacy of our aucestori 



SOE.VF II ^ 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



45 



And therefore, this day, our srreat admiral, 
With other slates, beiiicf invited guests, 
He does entreat you to appear amon<j them, 
In some f're-.h liabit. 

Belg. This staff shall not serve 
To beat the doo- off ; these are soldier's srarments, 
And so bv consequence g^row contemptibls. 

Slew. It has stuno; him. 

Belg. 1 would I were acquainted with the players, 
In ch-irity they mij^ht furnish me : but there is 
No fuith in brokers ; and for believinaf tailors, 
Thev are only to be read of, but not seen ; 
And sure they are confined to their own hells, 
And tiiere they live invisible. Well, I must not 
Be fubb'd off thus : pray you report my service 
To the lord governor; I will obev him; 
And tliousi-li my wardrobe's poor, rather than lose 
His company at this feast, I will put on 
The richest suit 1 have, and fill the chair 
That makes me worthy of* \^Exit. 

Stew. We are shut of him, 
He will be seen no more here : how mv fellows 
Will bless me for his absence ! he had starved them. 
Had he staid a little longer. Would he could, 
For his own sake, shift a shirt ! and that's the utmost 
Of his ambition : adieu, good captain. [£.rif. 



SCENE II.— The same. 
Enter Beaufort seiiioi , and Heavfout juniiyr. 

■Beaiif. sen. 'Tis a strange fondness. 

Beuiif. jun. 'Tis beyonc' example. 
His resolutioit to part with his estate. 
To m.ike her dower the weightier, is nothing ; 
But to observe how curious lie is 
In his own person, to add ornameTit 
To his daugliter's ravishing features, is ths wonder. 
I sent a page of mine in the way of courtsiiij) 
This morning to her, to present my service, 
From whom I understand all : there lie found him 
Solicitous in what shape she should a]ipear^ 
This gown was rich, but the fashion sale ; the other 
Was ([uaint, and neat, but the stuff not rich enough : 
Then does he curse the tailor, and in rage 
Falls on her shoemaker, for wanting art 
To express in every circumstance the form 
Of her most delicate foot ; then sits in council 



tli;it tliey slioiiM ;»flmit of such distinctions at tlieir board; 
but, ill truth, they seem to Imvp placed their guests bclnw the 
$alt, lor no better purpose than i hat of mollify ins; llieni. 
Nixon, in his Strange Footpost, (F. 3.) };ives a very admir- 
able accDiint, of tile miseries "of a poor scliolar," (H.ilfs 
well kn lUii sutiie, "A gentle sqvyre," &c , is a versihcation 
of it,) lion which I have taken the following characteristic 
traits: "Now as for his fare, it is lightly at the cheapest 
table, but he must sit under the salt, tli.it is an axiome in 
tuch places ;—thi-n, having drawne his knife leisuiably, un- 
folded his napkin mannerly, alter twice or thrice wypinghis 
beard, if he have it, he may reach the bread on his knife's 
point, and fall to his porrige, and between e>try sponelidl 
take as ninch ileliberaton, as a capon craming, lest lie be out 
of his porrige before Ihej have buried pari of their first 
course in their bellies." . 

(The saltcellar was a massy piece of plate with a cover of 
equal di)nen^ions. In NichuUs's Progresses of Queen F.liza- 
beth, occurs a figiiie of one, and in Dibdm's Lileraiy Reiiii- 
uiscences, is an engraving of one belonging 'o the ctlebrated 
Archbi<liop Parker, it is figured halt tlie original size, and 
from it some i lea may be formed of the dimensions of these 
ancient pieces of furniture. Ed.) 

* and fill the cha'r 

That ma/ifi me worthy of. This loo li.is been hitherlo 
printed a< an imperlect sentence; but surely, willioMt ne- 
cessity. The incaning is, " I will hll the li lir of which that 
(i. t. the richest suit I have) makes nie worthy." 



With much deliberation, to find out 

What tire would best adorn her; and one chosen, 

Varying in his opinion, he tears off. 

And stam])s it under foot ; then tries a second, 

A third, and fourth, and satisfied ar length. 

With much ado, in that, he grows aaain 

Perple.x'd ami troubled vi-here to place her jewels, 

To be most mark'd, and whether she should wear 

This diamond on her forehead, or between 

Her milkwliite jiaps, disputing on it both ways ; 

Then taking n his hand a rojie of pearl, 

(The best of Franre,) be seriously considers, 

Whether iie should dispose it on her arm. 

Or on her neck ; with twenty other trifles. 

Too tedious to deliver. 

Beauf. sen. I have known him 
From his first you'h, but never yet observed, 
In all the passages of his life and fortunes. 
Virtues so mix'd with vices : valiant the world 

speaks hi ii. 
But with that, bloody ; liberal in his gifts too, 
But to main'-ain hi; prodigal expense, 
A fierce extortioner ; an impotent lover 
Of women fir a fla^h*, but, his fires quench'd, 
Hating as deadly : the truth is, I am not 
Ambitious of thii match ; nor will I cross you 
In your affections. 

Beauf. jiin. I have ever found you 
(And 'tis my happmess) a loving father, 

{Loud musie. 

And careful of mv good : rby the loud music, 

As you gave ord r for his en'ertainment. 

He's come ia'o the house. Two long hours since, 

The colonels, commissioners, and captains. 

To pay him all the rites his worth can challenge, 

Went to wait on hiai hither. 

Enter Mai.efomt, AIontaigne, Chamont, Lanouii, 
MoMTRE'ii.i.E, 'I'liEocntNE, UshtT, Page, and 
Waiting Women. 

Beauf. sen. Vou are most welcome. 
And what I speik to you, does from my heart 
Disperse itself to all. 

Male/. Vou meet, my lord. 
Your trouble. 

Beauf. sen. Raflipr, sir, increase of honour, 
When you are pleased to grace my house. 

Beaif.jnn. The favour 
Is doubletl on my part, most worthy sir. 
Since your fair daughter, my incomparable mistress. 
Deigns us her presence. 

Malef. \'iew her well, brave Beaufort, 
But yet at distance; you hereafter may 
Make your approaches nean>r, when the priest 
Hiith made it lawful : and were not she mine 
I durst aloud proclaim it, Hymen never 
Put on his saffron-colour'd robe, to change 
A barren virgin name, with more good omens 
Than at her nuptials. Look on her again. 
Then tell me if she now appear the same 
That she was yesterdav. 

Beauf. sen. Being herself, 
She cannot but be excellent ; the.se rich 
And curious dressings, which in others might 
Cover deformities, from her take lustre. 
Nor can add to her. 



• an impotent loner 

Of women for a fi ash, &t.c. Wild, fierce, "ncontinllable io 
his pa>sioiis; this is a Latinism, impotens amoris, and id a 
\ery stioiij; expression. 



46 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act 111 



Malef. You conceive. her riglit. 
And ia your admiration of hev sweetness, 
You only can deserve her. Blush not, oirl, 
Thou art abo'e his praise, or mine ; nor can 
Obseciuious Flattery, though she should use 
Her thousand oil'd tongues to advance tliy worth, 
Give aut,'ht, (for that's impossible,) but take from 
Thy more than human sjraces; and even then, 
When she liath spent lierself with her best strength, 
The wrong she has done ihee shiill be so ajiparent. 
That, losing- her own servile shape and name. 
She will be thought Detraction : but I 
Forget mvself; arid something whispers to me, 
I have said too much. 

Mont. I know not what to think on't, 
But there's some mvsterv in it, which 1 fear 
Will be too soon discover'd. 

Malef. I much wrong 
Your patience, noble sir, by too much hugging 
My proper issue, and, like the foolish crow, 
Believe my black brood swans. 

Beatif. sen. There needs not, sir. 
The least excu-e for thi.s; nay, I must have 
Your arm, you being the ma.-.ter of the feast, 
And this the mistress. 

Theoc. 1 am any thing 
That you shall please to make me. 

Beauf.jun. Nay, 'tis yours, 
Without more compliment. 

Mont*. Vour will's a law, sir. 

[Loud music. V.xeunt Beaufort senior, Malefort, 
Theocriue, Beaujort junior, Montaig?ie, Chamont, 
Lanoiir, MontrevULe. 

Ush. Would I had been born a lord ! 

1 Worn. Or 1 a lady ! 

Page. It may be you were both begot in court, 
Though bred up in the city ; for your moiliers. 
As I have heard, loved thelol'bv ; and there, nightly, 
Are seen strar.»p apjiarifions : iind who knows 
But that some noble faun, heated with wine. 
And cloy'd with jiartridge, had a kind of longing 
To trade in sprats ? this needs no exposition : — 
But can you yield a reason for your wishes? 

Ush. Why, had I been born a lord, I had been 
no servant. [waiter.*, 

1 Worn. And whereas now necessity makes us 
We had been attended on. 

2 Worn. And mij^ht have slept then 

As long as we pleased, and fed wlien wehad stomachs. 
And worn new doihes, nor lived, as now, in hope 
Of a cast gown, or petticoat. 

Page. You iire fools. 
And ignorant of vour happiness. Ere I was sworn 
To the pantoflef, 1 have heard niv tutor 
Prove it by logic, that a servant's life 
Was better than his master's and by that 
I learn 'd from him. if that my memory fail not. 
I'll make it good. 

Ush. Proceeil, my little wii 
In decimo sej to. 

Page. 1 bus then : from the king 
To the beggar, by gradation, all are servants , 



• Afont ] S<> the old ropy: it niii't. Iiowever, be a mistake 
'or Theoc. oi rdllicr, piilups, tor \ltiltj-'. 

(■ . /jj-p / ,,.„j 

Sworn to the |).iiit<itti',l 1. c f.ilicii iVoin attiiifliiig in tlie 
porter's loiluc, (wliirli .sct-iii? to luivf been Hit lirsi degree o»' 



And you must grant the slavery is less 
To study to please one, than many. 

Ush. True. [plain 

Page. Well then ; and first to you, sir, you com- 
You serve one lord, but your lord serves a thousand, 
Besides his passions, that are his worst masters ; 
You must humour him, and he is bound to sooth 
Every grim sir above liim* : if he frown. 
For the least neglect you fear to lose your place ; 
But if, and with all slavish observation, [stool, 

From the minion's self, to the groom of his close- 
He hourly seeks not iavour, he is sure it.J 
To be eased of his office, though perhaps he bo-ight 
Nay, more : that high disposer of all such 
That are subordinate to him, serves and fears 
The fury of the many-headed monster, 
The giddy multitude : and, as a horse 
Is still a horse, for all his golden trappings, 
So your men of ])urcliased titles, at their best, are 
But serving men in rich liveries. 

Ush. IMost rare infant! 
Where learnd'st thou this morality? 

Page. Why, thou dull pate. 
As I told thee, of my tutor. 

2 Worn. Now for us, boy. 

Page. I am cut oft": — the governor. 
Enter Beaufort senior, and BiiAvrom junior ; Ser7:anU 
setting forth a biniqiiet. 

Beavf. sen. Quick, quick, sirs. 
See all things perfect. 

Serv. Let the blame be ours else. 

Beavf. sen. And, as I said, when we are at the 
banquet. 
And high in our cups, for 'ti.; no feast without it, 
Especially among soldiers ; Theocrine 
Being retired, as tlTnt's no place for her, 
Take you occasion to rise from the table. 
And lose no 0]iportunity.^ 

Beauf.jun. 'Tis my jmrpose ; 
And if I can win her to give her heart, 
I have a l^plv man in readiness 
To join our liands ; for tiie admiral, her father, 
Kepents him of his grant to me, and seems 
So far transported with a strange opinion 
Of her fair fesifures, that, should we defer it, 
I think, ere long, he will believe, and strongly, 
The dauphin is not worthy of her: I 
Am much amazed with't. , 

Beauf. sen. Nay, dispatch there, fellows. 

[/'.'aeujif Beaiijnrt senior and Beaujort jumor. 

Serv. We are ready, when you please. Sweet 
formsf, yotir pardon ! 
It has been such a busy time, I could not. 
Tender that ceremonious respect 
Which you deserve ; but now, the great work 
I will attend the less, and with all care [ended, 

Observe and serve you. 

he is botind to sooth 



•ervilude,) to wait on 'i'luocriiie. 



Every grim sir above him :] Crim sir, Mr. Dodfley injn 
dii-ioiisly altered to trim A\\ lor ilii.« lie islionoimii wiihihe 
approbation otCoNetei ; tlioni:!) nolliing can be mure certain, 
than that the old leadin;; i.s liiih'. Skelton calls \Vols«^y a 
yrim she, and Fletcher has a similar expression \ut/ie Elder 
Brother : 

" Cowsy. It is a faith 
That we w ill die In ; .since from the blacksjuard 
To tlie yrim sir in office, there are few 
Holdoti.er enet.-." 
+ Sweet rornis, &c ] This is a paltry play en word.s. The 
forms meant by 'he serv.inl, ar.- ihe loii^' bimles on which 
the yntsts were to sii. The tiite pedantry ot the speech is 
well exDoscd by the Page. 



Scene III.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



47 



Page. Tliis is a psnnM speech, 
And serves as a p<>riietuai preface to 
A dinner made of fraL'ments. 

Uih. We wait on vou. 



[Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— The sanie. A Banquet set forth. 
Loud Music. Enter Bkaufort senior, IMai.efort, 

IMONTAIOXE, ClIAMONT, LaNOUR, BeAV FORI juuior, 

BIoNTREViLLE, and Servants. 

Beauf. sen. You are not merry, sir. 

Malef. Yes, mv good lord. 
You liuve given us ample means to drown all cares : — 
And yet I nourish strange thoughts, which 1 would 
Most willingly destroy. \_Aside. 

Beauf. sen. Pray you, take your place. 

Beauf. Jan. And drink a health ; and let it be, 
if you pi ase, 
To the worthiest of women. Now observe him. 

Matef. Give me the bowl ; since you do me the 
I will begin it. [honour, 

Cham. May we know her name, sir ? [queen's, 

Matef. You sliall ; I will not choose a foreign 
Nor yet our own, for that would relish of 
Tame flattery ; nor do their heioht of title, [ness. 
Or absolute power, confirm their worth and good- 
These being heaven's gifts, and frequently couferr'd 
On such as are beneath them ; nor will I 
Name the king's mistress, howsoever she 
In his esteem may carry it ; but if I , 
As wine gives liberty, may use my freedom. 
Not sway'd tliis way or that, with confidence, 
(And I will make it good on any equal,) 
If it must be to her whose outward form 
Is better'd by the beauty of her mind. 
She lives not that with justice can pretend 
An interest to this so sacred heallli, 
But my fair daughter. He that only doubts it, 
I do pronounce a villain : this to her, then. 

[Drinks. 

Mont. What may we think of this ? 

Beauf. sen. It matters not. 

Lan. For my part, I will sooth him, rather than 
Draw on a quarrel *. 

Cham. It is the safest course ; 
And one 1 mean to follow. 

Beauf. jun. It has gone round, sir. [Eait. 

Malef. Now you hare done her right ; if there 
Worthy to second this, propose it boldly, [be any 
I am your pledge. 

Beaif. sen. Let's pause here, if you please, 
And entertain the time with something else. 
Music there ! in some lofty strain ; tlie song too 
That I gave order for ; the new one, call'd 
The Soldier's Delight. l^Music and a song. 

Enter Bei.garde j;> armotir, a case of carbines by 
his side, 

Belg, Who stops me now ? 
Or who dares only say that I appear not 
In the most rich and glorious habit that 
Renders a man complete ? What court so set off 



• Draw on a quarrel.] This has hitherto been printed. 
Draw on a quarrel, Clidniont ; jintl' the next speech given 
lo Mdiititville. It is not very probable tliat the Idtler 
ahould reply to an observation aridressed lo Chamont, wiih 
whom he does not appear to be taMjiliar : and besides, the 
excess ot" metre seems to prove that tlie name has sliptfronx 
the luaigin of the succeeding; line into the text of tljjs. 



With state and ceremonious pomp, but, thus 
Accoutred, 1 may enter ! Or what feast, 
Though all the elements at once were ransack'd 
To store it with variety transcending 
The curiousness and cost on Trajan's binhday ; 
(Where princes only, and confederate kings. 
Did sit as guests, served and attended on 
By the senators of Rome), at which * a soldier. 
In this his natural and proper shape, 
Alight not, and boldly, fill a seat, and by 
His jiresence make the great solemnity 
More honour'd and remarkable ? 

Beauf . sen. 'Tis acknowledged ; 
And this a grace done to me unexpected. 

Mont. But why in armour ? 

Malef. What's the mystery 1 
Pray you, reveal that. 

iBelg. Soldiers out of action. 
That very rare » * • * 
* * * * but, like unbidden guests. 
Bring their stools with them, for their own defence |, 
At court should feed in gauntlets, they miy have 
Their fingers cut else : there your carpet knights, 
That never charged beyond a mistress' lips. 
Are still most keen, and valiant. But to you, 
Whom it does most concern, my lord, I will 
Address my speech, and with a soldier's freedom 
In my reproof, return the bitter scoff 
You threw upon my poverty : you contemn'd 
My coarser outside, and from that concluded 



• at wliich a xold:er &>•] The old copy 

reads, sat with a solilicr. The emendation, wliicli i.-. a very 
happy one, was made by jMr. M. Mason. Tlie i-orniptiou is 
easdy accounteil lor: the primer mistook Ihe sicoi. (I p.uen- 
Ihesis foi an s, and li.iviug tiven xat loi- at, «.is obliuid to 
alter the iiexl word, lo make sense of Ihe line. Tlii.s wiU 
be understood at once by a lefeieiice lo the c|iiarto, wliere 
llie tirsi p.l|■elitlle^i^ only appears, uliich was llRiefore 
oniiiud by the sncei eilins; editors. I know iiol where Mas- 
singer found tliis anecdote of Traj in ; lie w,i-, indeed, a 
inagiillicunt, and, in some c.ises, an ostentations prince; 
but neiilier his pri le, nor his prudence, i believe, woul'i 
have allowed the " senaiors of Rome" lo degrade them- 
selves by wailing on the allies of the republic. 

t Bels{. 'Soldiers out oj' action, 

That very rare, «••••* 

• • * * • but, like unhidden, guests 

Briny their stools with them, &c.\ So 1 have ventured to 
print llii.s pa3sa'.;e, bein;; persuaded Ihat a line is lost. The 
breaks c nnot be tilled up, but the sense mj^ht be, Soldier$ 
out of act inn, that very rarely find seals reserved for them, 
i. e. are invited, fr«f, like, &c. How the in'-dern e<litors 
understood this pass isfe I know not but, Ihey all give it thus. 
Bels; Sold'era out of action, 
Thiit very rare, but like unbidden yuesta 
Briny &c 

This cnsioin of guests, who are uninvited bringing their 
seats with them, is freiiueiitly referred to by our old writers: 
so Rowley : 

Widow. Wliat copesinate's this trow ? Who let him inf 

Jarvis. By t)ds li^ht, a fellow of an exrtHent breeding; 
he ciine unbidden, and brought his stool with him. 
J for ihiir own defence. 

At court should feed in gauntlets, they may have 
Their finyeis cut else: Here is the bon mot for which 
Quin was so much celebrated lliat "at city lea ts it was 
neither safe nor prudent to help one's self without a basket- 
liilted knife." Alassinger got it, I suppo.-ie, from IJarelay's 
second £cl'iyte, which has great merit lor ihe time in which 
it was written : 

" If the dishe be pleasannt eyihcr flcthe or fishe. 

Ten handes at once swarnie in the clishe 

To put there tliy haiirles is peril witliojit fayle. 
Without a yauntlrt, or els a ylove ofmayle ; 
Among all ihose knives, thou one ol both must have. 
Or els it is liarile thy fingers to save." 
Where Barclay found it, I cannot tell ; but 'here is something 
of Ihe kind in Diogenes Laertius. " There is nothing new 
luider the sun ! " 



48 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act III 



(As b)' your ecroom you made me understand) 
1 was unwortliy to sit at your table, 
Among tLese tissues and embroideries, 
Unless I changed my habit : I have done it, 
And show myself in that which I have worn 
In the heat and fervour of a bloody fight ; 
And then i( was in fashion, not as now, 
Ridiculous and despised. This hath past through 
A wood of pikes, and every one aim'd at it, 
Yet scorn'd to take impression from their fury : 
With this, as still vou see it, fresh and new, 
I've charged through fire that would have singed 
yoursables, [colour 

Black fox, and ermines, and changed the proud 
Of scarlet, though of the r'ght Tyrian die. — 
But now, as if the trappings made the man, 
Such onlv are admired that come adorn'd 
With what's no part of them. This is mine own, 
My richest suit., a suit I must not part from; 
But not regarded now : and yet remember, 
'Tis we that bring you in the means of feasts. 
Banquets, and revels, which, when you possess, 
With barbarous ingratitude you deny us 
To be made sharers in the harvest, which 
Our sweat and industry reap'd, and sow'd for you. 
The silks you wear, we v>ith our blood spin for you ; 
This massy plate, that with the ponderous weight 
Does make your cupboards crack, we (unaffrighted 
With tempests, or the long and tedious way, 
Or dreadful monsters of the deep, that wait 
With open jaws still ready to devour us,) 
Fetch from the other world. Let it not then. 
In after ages, to your shame be spoken. 
That you, with no relenting eyes, look on 
Our wiints that feed your plenty : or consume. 
In prodigal and wanton gifts on drones. 
The kingiloni's treasure, yet detain from us 
The debt tliat with the hazard of our lives. 
We have made you stand engaged for ; or force us, 
Against all i ivil government, in armour 
To re(]uire that, which with all willingness 
Should be tender'd ere demanded. 

Beaiif. sen. I commend 
This wholesome sharpness in you, and prefer it 
Before obseijuious tameness ; it shews lovely : 
Nor shall the rain of your good coun-el fall 
Upon the barren sands, but spring up fiuit*. 
Such as you long have wish'd for. And the rest 
Of your profession, like you, discontented 
For want of means, shall in their present payment 
Be bound to praise your boldness : and hereafter 
I will take order you shall have no cause, 
For want of change, to put your armour on. 
But in the face of an enemy ; not as now. 
Among your friends. To that which is due to you. 
To fuinish you like yourself, of mine own bounty 
I'll add two hundred crowns. 

Cham. I, to my power. 
Will follow the example. 

Mont. Take this, captain, 
Tis all my present store ; but when you please, 
Command me further. 

Lun. 1 could wish it more. 

Belg. This is the luckiest jest ever came from me. 
Let a soldier use no other scribe to draw 
The form of his position. This will speed 



• „ '- but sprinir rip .fruit,] i- «■ cans)' il to 

»priiig lip- This scii^c of the wonl i=r f.miiliar to Ma»siii^e» 
and liio conteiiipoiMiits, 



When your thrice-humble supplications. 
With prayers for increase of health and honours 
To their grave lordships, shall, as soon as read. 
Be pocketed up, the c-.iuse no nfore reinember'd ; 
When this dumb rhetoric — Well, I have a life, 
Which I, in thankfulness for your great favours. 
My noble lords, when yon please to command it. 
Must never think mine own. Broker, be happy, 
These golden birds fly to tliee. [ilxit. 

Bcaiif. sen. You are dull, sir, 
And seem not to be taken with the passage 
You saw presented. 

Malef. Passage ! I observed none, 
My thoughts were elsewhere bus ed. Ha ! she is 
In danger to be lost, to be lost for ever, 
If speedily I come not to her rescue. 
For so my genius tells me. 

Montr. What chimeras 
W^ork on your fantasy ? 

Malef. Fantasies ! they are truths. 
Where is my Theocrine >. you have jdotted 
To rob me of my daughter ; bring me to her, 
Or I'll call down the saints to witness for me. 
You are inhospitable. 

Beauf. sen. You amaze me. 
Your daughter's safe, and now exchanging courtship 
With my son, her servant*. Why do you hear thia 
With such distracted looks, since to that end 
You brought her hither ? 

Malef. ''J'is confess'd I did ; 
But now, pray you, pardon nie ; and, if you please^ 
Ere she delivers up her virgin fort, 
I would observe what is the art he uses 
In planting his artillery against it : 
She is my only care, nor must she yield. 
But upon noble terms. . ^ 

Beauf. sen. 'Tis so determined. 

Malef'. Yet I am jealous. 

Mont. Overmuch, I fear. 
What jiassions are these ? 

Beauf. sen. Come, I will bring you 
Where you, with these, if they so please, may see 
The love-scene acted. 

Montr. 1 here is something more 
Than fatherly love in this. 

Mont. We wait upon you. [Exeunl. 



SCENE IV. — Another Boom in Beaufort's //oaiij. 
Enter Bt-avfout junior, and TiiEorniNE. 

Beauf. jun. Since then you meet my flames with 
e!|ual ardour. 
As you ])rofess, it is your bounty, mistress. 
Nor mast I call it debt ; yet 'lis your glory. 
That vour excess supplies niy want, and makes me 
Strong in my weakness, which could never be, 
But in your good oi>inion. 

Theoc. You teach me, sir. 
What 1 should say ; since from your sun of favour, 



* I'our daughter's safe, and noio erchnnyinij courtship 
With my son, luT .--ii vaiit.] Seivunt \\,is hi iliis time thtt 
invaii.ilJli- iLiiii for a !-ni;<.p-, "li«, iji niniii, calici! llie object 
of Ills adilrcsscs, mistrins. Ilius Sliiikv, loiic exaiupl* 
lor ail,) 

" lion. What's the gi'iitlciiian she has married ? 
.Serv. A man of picli.v loiliiuf, tlial has been 
Hli sfivant many ycaio. 

Jinn. How do >'n inuan, 
\\ anloiily.or dues hu si-ive for wages? i 

Serv. Neitlier; 1 iiieaii her suitor." ^ 



CLh.\ 



ftCKNE IJ.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



49 



I, like dim Pho'be, in herself obscurf. 
Borrow tliat lis^lit 1 Iiave. 

Beaut, jun. Wliitli you return 
With l;irge increase, since that you will o'ercome, 
And I dare not contend, were you but pleased 
To make wliat's yet divided one. 

Theoc. 1 have 
Already in my wishes ; modesty 
Forbids me to speak more. 

BeaiiJ.jitn. But what as-urance, 
But still witliout offence, may 1 demand, 
That may secure me that your heart and tongue 
Join to make harmony. 

Tlienc. Choose any, 
Suitin;^ your love, distinguished from lust," 
To ask, and mine to grant. 

Enter, behind, BEAUFonx settlor, Malefort, 
jMontreville. and the rest. 

Beaiif. sen. Yonder they are. 

Mulef. At distance too ! 'tis yet well. 

Beauf.jun. I may take then 
This hand, and with a tliousund burning kisses, 
Swear 'tis the unchor to my hopes 1 

Theoc. You may, sir. 

Makf. Somewhat too much. 

Beauf.jun, And this done, view myself 
In these true mir:ors? 

Theoc. Ever true to you, sir : 
And may they lose the ability of sight, 
When they seek other object ! 

Malef. This is more 
Than 1 can give consent to. 

Beauf.juH. And a kiss 
Thus printed on your lips, will not distaste you * ? 

Ma/^/'. Her lip's ! [tracted? 

Montr. Why, where should lie kiss ? are you dis- 

Beauf.jun. Then, when this holy man hatJi made 
it lawful \^Brings in a Priest. 

Malef. A priest so ready too ! I must break in. 

Beauf.jun. And what's spoke here is register'd 
I must engross those favours to myself {^above ; 
Which are not to be named. 

Theoc. All I can give. 
But what tliey are I know not. 

Beauf.jun. I 11 instruct you. 

Malef. O how my blood boils ! 

Montr. Pray you, contain yourself; 
Methinks his courtship's modest f. 

Beauf.jun. Tiien being mine. 
And wholly mine, the riwr of your love 
To kinsmen and allies, nay, to your father, 
(Howe'er out of his tenderness lie admires you,) 
Must in the ocean of your affection 
To me, be swallow'd up, and want a name. 
Compared with what you owe me. 

Theoc. 'lis most fit, sir. 
The stronger bond that binds me to you, must 
Dissolve the weaker. 

Malef. 1 am ruin'd, if 
I come not fairly off. 

* Beaiif. jmi. And a kiss 

Thus printed on your tips, ivill not (distaste pou f] i.e. 
displcHSc you: llie wind iif:ipetu.illy lecnrs in this sense. 

t Methinks liis courtship's modest.'\ For his the modern 
editors have this The change is unnecessary. The next 
speech, as Mr. Gilduist observes, bears a distant resemblance 
to the nrst sonnit of Daniel to Uolia : 
" Unto the boun lis-e ocean ot llii. bcautie 

Runnes tliis poor liver, cliar£;'<I with streames of zeale. 

Returning thee the tribute of my diitie. 

Which here my love, my trutli, my plaints reveale." 



heauf. sen. There's nothing wanting 
But your consent. 

Malef. Some strange invention aid me ! 
This ! yes, it must be so. [^Asidi 

Moutr. Why do you stagger. 
When what you seem'd so much to wish, is ofTer'd, 
Both parties being agreed too * ? 

Beauf. sen. I'll not court 
A j^raiit from you, nor do I wrong your daughter, 
Though 1 say my son deserves her. 

Malef. 'I'js far from 
My humble thoughts to undervalue him 
I cannot prize too high : for howsoever 
From my own fond indulgence 1 have sung 
Her praises with too prodigal a tongue, 
Tliat tenderness laicl by, 1 stand confirm 'd 
All that I fancied excellent in her. 
Balanced with what is really his own, 
Holds weight in no proportion. 

Moutr. New turnings ! 

Beauf. sen. Whither tends this ? 

Malej'. Had you observed, my lord. 
With what a sweet gradation he woo'd. 
As I did punctually, you cannot blame her. 
Though she did listen with a greedy ear 
To his fair modest offers : but so great 
A good as then flow'd to her, should have been 
With more deliberatljn entertain'd. 
And not with such haste swallow'd ; she i^hall first 
Consider seriously what the blessing is, 
And in what ample manner to give thanks for't, 
And then receive it. And though 1 shall think 
Short minutes years, till it be perfected. f, 
1 will defer that which I most desire ; 
And so must she, till longing expectation, 
'J hat heightens pleasure, makes her truly know 
Her happiness, and with what outstretch'd arms 
She must embrace it. 

Beauf.jun. This is curiousness 
Beyond example t. 

Malef. Let It then begin 
From me : in what's mine own Til use my will. 
And yield no further reason. 1 lay i laim to 
1 he liberty of a subject. Fall not oft'. 
But be obedient, or by the hair 
Fll drag thee home. Censure me as you please, 
I'll take my own way. — O the inward fires 
That, wanting vent, consume me ! 

\^Eiit with Theocrine. 

Montr. 'Tis most certain 
He's mad, or worse. 

Beauf. sen. How worse ^? 



* Both parties being agreed too ?] The old copy gives thi« 
heniiftiih to lieaufort junior, and is probably rii;lil, as Male- 
fi'rt liad by this time interposed bitween the lovirs. The 
alteration is by Coxeter. For to, which .-lajiils in all the 
editions, I read too. It should beobserveil tliat our old writers 
nsi.illy spell tliose two words alike, leaving the sense to be 
<li.-.c.)vered by the context (omitted in edit. 18!3). 

i till it be perlecteil,] Tlie old ortlumraphy w is 

perjitted, a mode of spelling much belter ada^ite<l to poetry, 
ami wliich I am sorry we have suttered to grow obsolete. 

j Beanf. jun. This is curiousness 

Beyond eaamplc.] i. e. a refined and over scrupulous con- 
si kriiion of the subject. So the word is frequently applied 
by our old writeis. (It occurs again in tiie " Parliament of 
L(Wi," Act. i, SC.4; and in the Works of T.>iid.tll, folio 
p ()?, I find the following apposite ilhistraliun ol this ex 
prisM 'II, " Be diligent, therefore, that those be not deceaved 
Willi ruriousnes. For me of no small n piitatiuii have been 
deceived with their owne sophistry." — Eu.) 

j Beauf. sen. How worse f] I his -hoit speech is noi 
appropriaied in the old copy. JJodjley gives ;t to ilie present 



50 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT, 



Act IV. 



Montr. Nay, there I leave you ; 
My tlioui^hts are free. 

Beauf.Jun. Tliis I foresaw. 
heauf. sen. Take comfort, 



He shall walk in clouds, but I'll discover him : 
And lie sliall find and feel, if he excuse not, 
And witli strong reasons, this gross injury, 
I can make use of my authority. [ EaeunI 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — A Room in Malefort>'s House. 
Enter JM.^lefokt. 

What flames are these my wild desires fan in me ? 
The torcli that feeds then ,vas not lighted at 
Thy altars, Cupid ; vindicate thyself, 
And do not own it ; and confirm it rather. 
That this infernal brand, that turns me cinders, 
Was by the snake-haird sisters thrown into 
My guilty bosom. O that I was ever 
Accurs'd in having issue ! my son's blood, 
(I'hat like tlie poison'd slsirt (if Hercules 
Grows to each part about me,) wiiich my hate 
Forced from him with much willingness, may admit 
Some weak defence ; but my most impious love 
To my fair daughter Tlieocrme, none ; 
Since my affection (ratiier wicked lust) 
Th.it does pursue her, is a gieater crime 
Than any detestation, with whicii 
I sliouUI afflict her innocence. With what cunning 
I have betray 'd myself*, and did not feel 
The scorching heat that now with fury rages ! 
Why was I tender of her 1 cover'd with 
Tliat fond disguise, this miscliief stole upon me. 
T thought it no offence to kiss lier often. 
Or twine mine arms about lier softer neck t, 
And by false shadows of a father's kindness 
I long deceived myself: but now tlie efiect 
Is tOD appirent. How I strove to be 
In her opinion held the worthiest man 
In courtship, form, and feature ! envying him 
That was preferr'd before me ; and yet then 
My wishes to myself were not discover'd. 
But still my fires increased, and with de ight 
I would call her mistress }, willingly Ibrgetting 
The name of daughter, choosing rather she 
Should style me servant, than, with reverence, 
father : 



sppakcr, and is evidently right. M. Mason follows Coxeter, 
who uives it to no one ! 

• Jf itk what cunniitff 

I have betrayed myself, Ac] Gitford, in the edition of 
1813, iein.iiks on lliis speecli that it is a close translation of 
the desciipiion of the fatal pas.«ion of B^blis by Ovid, to 
whom 1 intist refer the reader for the parallel passage.— 
Mitainiir.h, Lib. iv, 456.— Ku ) 

t (ir twine mine arms about her softer neck,] i. e. her soft 
tttrck: our oil poets frequently adopt, and indeed with sin- 
gular good taste, the comparative for the p-sitive. Thus, in 
a very pretty passage in the Combat of Love and Friend- 
thip, by R. Mead : 

" When I shall sit circled within your armes. 
How shall I cast a blemish on your honour. 
And appear onely like some /aVser stone. 
Placed in a ring of gold, wliidi grows a jewel 
But from the seat which holds it!" 
And indeed Massinger himself furnishes numerous instances 
of this practice ; one occurs just below: 

" whicli your i/entler temper, 

On my submission, I hope, will pardon." 
A.nofh»r we have already had, in the Viryin-.Vartyr : 
" Juilge not my readier v/ill by the ivcnt." 
} / would call her mistress, &c.] See note to Act iii «c 4 
■nte ' 



Yet, waking, I ne'er cherish 'd obscene hopes *, 
But in my troubled slumbers often thought 
She was too near to me, and then sleeping blush'd 
At my iinaginaiion ; which pass'd, 
(My eyes being open not condemning it,) 
I was ravisli'd with the pleasure of the dream. 
Yet spite of these temptations I have reason 
That ])leads against them, and commands me to 
Extinguish these abominable fires ; 
And 1 will do it ; I will send her back 
To him that loves her lawfully. Within there ! 
Enter Theocrine. 

Theoc. Sir, did you call ? 

Malef, 1 look no sooner on her, 
But all my boasted power of reason leaves ma 
And passion again usurps her empire. 
Does none else wait me ? 

Theoc. I am wretched, sir, 
Should any owe more duty 1 

Malef, This is worse 
Than disobedience ; leave me. 

Theoc. On my knees, sir, 
As I have ever squared my will by yours, 
And liked and loath'd with your eyes, 1 beseech yoa 
To teach me what the nature of my fault is, 
That hath incensed you ; sure 'tis one of weakness 
And not of malice, which your gentler temper, 
On my submission, I hope, will pardon : 
Whicli granted by your piety, if that I, 
Out of the least neglect of mine hereafter, 
Make you remember it, may I sink ever 
Under your dread command, sir. 

Male/. O my stars ! 
Who can but doat on this humility, [ters 

That sweetens Lovely in her tears ! Tlie fet- 

That seein'd to lessen in their weight but now f. 
But this grow iieavier on me. 

• Yet waking, / nt'er cherish'd obscene hopes,] The old 
copy reads. Yet mocking,— if this be the genuine word, il 
must mean" iiotwitlistanding my wanton abuse of the terms 
mentioned above. I never cherished," &c. this is certainly 
not defective in sense; but the rest of the sentence calls so 
I'ludly l:ir waking, thit I have not scrupled to insert it in 
the tt\t; the corruption, at the press, was suflicieully eaiiy. 

t Malef. () my stars! 

fPhn can hut doat on this humility, 

Thit sweetens — -Lovely in her tears! The fettert, 

'I'hat seem'd to lessen in their weiyht but now. 

By th s yrow heavier on me.] So I venture to point the 
passage : il is abrupt, and denotes the distracted state of the 
speaker's mind. It stands thus in Mr. M. Mason : 

Malef. O my stars ! icho can but doat on this humility 

That sweetens ^lovely in her tears ) the fetters 

That sr.em'd to lessen in their weight ; but now 

By this yrow heavier on me. 
Coxeter follows the old copies, which only differ from this, 
in placing a note of interrogation after tears. Both are 
eviiiMitl) wrou'.;, because unintelligible. 

Th reader must not be surprised at the portentous verse 
which begins the cpiotaiion from Mr. M. Mason. Neither 
he, nor Coxeter, nor Uodslcy, seems to have had the smallest 
solicitude (I will not say knowledge) respecting the metre 
of their author : aixl Massinger, the most harmonious ot 
poets, appears, in their desultory pages, as uuluneahle OJ 
Marstuu or Donne. 



Scene I.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



51 



Theoc. Dear sir. 
Male/, fence ! 
' must not liear (hee. 
Theoc. Nor look on me '<. 
Malcf. No, 
Thv lodks and woi'ds are cliarms. 

Thedc. May tliey have power then 
To cahn t!ie tempest of your wrath ! Alas, sir, 
Did I but know in what I give offence, 
In my rejunKance I would show my sorrow 
For uliit is jtast, and, in my care hereafter. 
Kill tlit^ occasion, or cease to be ; 
Since lifi\ without your favour, is to me 
A load I would cast off. 

Blalef. O that my heart 
Were rent in sunder, that I mffht expire, 
The cause in my death buried* ! yet I know not. — 
With such prevailing; oratory 'tis begg'd from me, 
That to deny thee would conviice me to 
Have suck'd tiie milk of tigers . rise, and I, 
t But in a perplex'd and mysterious method, 
Will make relation : That which all the world 
Admires and cries up in thee for perfections. 
Are to unhappy me foul blemisiies. 
And mulcts in nature. If thou hadst been born J 
Deform 'd and crooked in the fe itures of 
Thy body, as the manners of th y mind ; 
Moor-lippVl, flat-nosed, dim-eyed, and beetle-brow'd 
With a dwarf's stature to a giuTit's waist; 
Sour-breath'd, with claws for fingers on thy hands. 
Splay-footed, gouty-legg'd, and over all 
A loathsome leprosy had spread itself. 
And made thee shunn'd of human fellowships ; 
I had been blest. 

Theor. Why, would you wish a monster 
(For such a one, or worse, you iiave described) 
To call you father 7 

Miitef. Rather than as now, 
(Though 1 had drown'd thee for it in the sea,) 
A))])p;ning. as thou dost, a new Pandora, 
With Juno's fair cow-eves^, Minerva's brow, 
Aurora's blushing cheeks, Hebe's fresh youth, 
Venus' soft paps, with Thetis' silver feet. 

Theoc. Sir, you have liked and loved them, and 
oft forced. 



• 7'Ae c-'i*", 'n my deaf h buried .'] yet I know not. 

Meaiiiii";, 1 opiii«-lieii(l, tliat liis iiicestiioiis ptssion whs per- 
haps siispicifd. As tliis passage hath been hiiherto puiuled. 
it wa> not 111 he understood. 

t But in a perplex'd and myslerimts njelhod,] We have 
alrea ly had ihis (■xpie?su>n from the son : 

'• Bill ill a perplex'd form and method," &c.,Actii, sc. 1. 
And nolhini; can more strongly express the character of this 
most vicious, lather, whose crimes were tuo horrible for his 
son ti> express, and whose wishes are too f1ai;iiious for his 
aaiieliiir ID he^r. 

I Jftlum hadst been born, &c.] Thirs in King John: 
" If tlum, that bid'st me be contmt., wert grim, 
Hsjly, and sland'rons to thy mother's \»<imb, 
Fnll of impleasing bhits, and si^hlless stains. 
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, 
I'alch'd with fonl moh^s, and eye-otiending marks, 
I wiitild not care, I then wonhi be conttnl; 
For then I shouhl not love thee ;" Coxeter. 
^ U ith Juno's fair cow-eyr s, &c.] These lines of Mas- 
singer are an immediate translation from a pretty Greek 
epigram : 

0/i/tar' f\'£ic HpTjc, MtXir/j, rac X^i-P^S A.6rivriQ, 
Tug fia^uQ na(piT]Q, ra (T<pvpa rrjg QstiSoq, &c. 

DOUD. 

These coiveyrs, however, make but a sorry kind of an ap- 
pearance in English poetry ; bnt so it ever will be when the 
figurative terms of one lani;n.ii;e are literally applied to 
Dother. See the Emi eror of the East. 



With your hyperboles of praise pour'd on them. 
My modesty to a defensive red, [[jieased 

Strew'd o'er that paleness, which you then were 
To style the purest white. 

Malef. And in tliat cup 
I drank the poison I now feel dispersed 
Through every vein and arterv. Wherefore art thou 
So cruel to me ? This thy outward shape 
Brought a fierce war against me, not to be 
By flesh and blood resisted : but to leave me 
No hoi)e of freedom, from the magazine 
Of thy mind's forces, treacherously thou drew'st up 
Auxiliary helps to strengthen that 
Which was already in itself too potent. 
Thy beauty gave the first charge,«but thy duty, ■ 
Seconded with tliy care and watchful studies 
To please, and serve my will, in all that might 
Raise up content in me, like thunder brake through 
All opposition ; and, my ranks of reason 
Disbanded, my victorious passions fell 
To bloody execution, and eompell'd me 
With willing hands to tie on my own chains. 
And, with a kind of flattering joy, to glory 
In my captivity. 

Theoc. I, in this you speak, sir, 
Am igjiorance itself. 

Malef. And so continue ; 
For knowledge of the arms thou bear'st against me, 
Would make thee curse thyself, but yield no aids 
For thee to help me ; and 'twere cruelty 
! In me to wound that spotless innocence, 
Howe'er it make me guilt v. In a word, 
Thy plurisy • of goodness is thy ill ; 
Tiiy virtues vices, and thy humble lowness 
Far worse than stubborn sullenness and pride ; 
Thy looks, that ravish all be!)olders else. 
As killing as the basilisk's, thy tears, 
Express'd in sorrow for the much I suffer, 
.A glorious iiisultation f, and no sion 
Of pity in thee : and to hear tliee speak 
In thy defence, though but in silent action, 
Wouid make the hurt, already deeply fester'd, 
Incurable : and therefore, as thou wouldst not 
By thy presence raise fresli furies to torment me, 
I do conjure thee by » fcither's power, 
(And 'tis my curse I dare not think it lawful 
To sue unto thee in a nearer name,) 
Without reply to leave me. 

Theoc. My obedience 
Never learn'd yet to question your commands, 
But willingly to serve them ; yet I must. 
Since that your will forbids the knowledge of 
]My fault, lament my fortune. fErifc 

'Malef. O that I ' 
Have reason to discern the better way. 
And yet ptir.sue the worse X ! When I look on Ler, 
I burn with heat, and in her absence freeze 
W'ith the cold blasts of jealousy, that another 

* Tht, pliiri-y nf ijoodness is thy ill;] i. e. thy snperabnn 
dance of goodness : the thonght is from Shakspeare : 
" For goodness, growing to a plurisy, 
Dies in liis own too much." 
For thy, the old copy reads the; it is, however, an evident 
error ot tlie press. 

i A glorious instillation,] used in the sense of gloriosut. 
Sec noie to Act. i. sc. 1. 
t M.d- f. (> that I 

Have reason tn discern the better way, 
And yet jiursue the worse.'] This jiad been said before bj 
Mede.i : 

video metiora, proboque, 

Deterioro seqncr. 

* 4 



5S 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act IV. 



Should e'er taste those delights that are denied me ; 
And wliich of these afflictions brinos less torture, 
I hardly can distinguish : Is there then 
No mean ? No ; so my understanding tells me, 
And that by my cross tates it is determined 
That I am both ways wretched. 

Enter Usher and IMontreville. 

Usher. Yonder he walks, sir, 
in much vexation : he hath sent my hidy. 
His aaughter, weeping in ; but what the cause is, 
Rests yet in supposition. 

Montr. I guess at it, 
But must be further satisfied ; I will sift him 
In private, therefore quit the room. 



Usher. I am gone, sir. 



Exit. 



Male/. Ha ! who disturbs me 1 Montreville ! your 
pardon. 

Montr. Would you could grant one to yourself ! 
With the assurance of a friend, and yet, [I speak it 
Before it be too lute, make reparation 
Of the gross wrong your indiscretion offer'd 
To the governor and his son ; nay, to yourself; 
For 'there begins my sorrow. 

Male/. Would 1 had 
No greater cause to mourn, than their displeasure ! 
For I dare justify 

Morftr. We must not do * 
All that we dare. We're private, friend. I observed 
Your alterations with a stricter eye. 
Perhaps, than others ; and, to lose no time 
In repetition, your strange demeanour 
To your sweet daughter. 

Male/. Would you could find out 
Some other theme to treat of. 

Montr. None but this; 
And this ril dwell on ; how ridiculous, 
And subject to construction 

Male/. No more ! 

Montr, You inade yourself, amazes me, and if 
The frequent trials interchanged between us 
Of love and friendship, be to their desert 
Flsteem'd bv you, as they hold weight with me, 
No inward trouble should be of a shape 
So hoi rid to yourself, but that to me 
You stand bound to discover it, and unlock 
Your secret'st thoughts ; though the most innocent 
Loud crying sins. [were 

Male/. And so, perhaps, they are : 
And therefore be not curious to learn that 
Which, known, must make you hate me. 

Montr. 'J'hink not so. 
I am yours in rii^ht and wrong ; nor shall you find 
A verbal friendship in me, but an active ; 
And here I vow, 1 shall no sooner know 
What the disease is, but, if you give leave, 
I will apply a remedy. Is it madness? 
t I am familiarly acquainted with 

' }1 e must not do, &c.] Tliis and tlic two nfxt speeches 
are jiimbliid emiiily out of metre by the modern editors. 
It seems odd that thoy should not know whether they were 
printing prose or verse 
+ / am familiarly acquainted with a deep-read man. 
That can icith charms and herbs] So the lines stand in 
all the editions : upon whicli Mr. M. Mason remarks, for 
the first lime, that the metre requires it diHerent division. 
This IS will thought of! In his edition, the Unnatural 
('ombat stunds towards the end of the third volume, and, to 
speak moderdtely, I have already corrected his versification 
in a hundred places within llie compass of as many passes: 
nay, of the little which has passed since the entrance of 
Montreville, nearly a moiety iias Hnderj;one a new at rang - 
uient. 



A deep-read man, that can with charms and herbs 
Restore vou to vour reason ; or su])pose 
You are bewitch'd ] he with more potent spells 
And mag)cal rites shall cure you. Is't heaven's 
anger ? 

With penitence and sacrifice appease it : 

Beyond this, there is nothing that I can 
Imagine dreadful ; in your fame and fortunes 
You are secure ; your impious son removed too. 
That render'd you suspected to the state ; 

And your fair daughter 

Male/. Oh ! press me no further. [hath she 

Montr. Are you wrung there ! Why, what of herl 
Made shipwreck of het" honour, or conspired 
Against your life? or seal'd a contract with 
The devil of hell, for the recovery of 
Her young Inamorato ? 

Male/. None of these; 
And yet, what must increase the wonder in you, 
Being innocent in herself, she hath wounded me . 
But where, enquire not. Yet, I know not how 
I am persuaded, from my confidence 
Of your vow'd love to me, to trust you with 
My dearest secret ; pray you chide me for it, 
But with a kind of pity, not insultuig 
On my calamity. 
Montr. Forward. 

Male/, 'ibis same daughter 

Montr. What is her fault ? 
Mule/. Slie is too fair to me. 
Montr. Ha! how is this? 
Male/ And I have look'd upon her 
More than a father should, and languish to 
Enjay her as a husband. 
Montr. Heaven forbid it ! 

Male/. And this is all the comfort you can give me ! 
Where are your promised aids, your chaims, your 

herbs. 
Your deep-read scholar's spells and magic rites? 
('an all these disenchant me ? No, I must be 
]My own physician, and upon myself 
Practise a desperate cure. 

Montr. Uo not contemn jne : 
Enjoin me what you please, with any bazar 1 
I'll undertake it. What means have you practised 
To quench tliis hellish fire? 

Male/. All I could think on, 
But to no purpose ; and yet sometimes absence 
Does yield a kind of intermission to 
The fury of the fit, 

Montr. See her no more, then. 
Male/. 'lis my last refuge, and 'twas my intent. 
And still 'tis, to desire your help, ■ 

Montr. Command it. [are 

Male/. Thus then : you have a fort, of which you 
The absolute lord, whither, I pray you, bear her : 
And that the sight of her may not agitin 
Nourish those flames, which I feel something lessen'd 
By all the ties of friendship I conjure you, 
And by a solemn oath you must confirm it, 
That though my now calm'd passions should rage 

higher 
Than ever heretofore, and so compel me 
Once more to wish to see her ; though I use 
Persuasions mix'd with threatnings, (nay, add to il. 
That I, this failing, should witli hands held up thus 
Kneel at your feet, and bathe them with tears 
Pravi rs or curses, vows, or imprecations, 
Oiily to look upoti her, though at distance 
j You still must be obdurate. 



Scene II.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT 



53 



Montr. If it be 
Your pleasure, sir, that I shall be unmoved, 
I will endeavour. 

Mate/. You iriust swear to be 
Inexonihle, as vou would prevent 
The greatest mischief to your friend, that fate 
Could throw upon him. 

Montr. ^Vell, I will obey you. 
But how the governor will be answer'd yet. 
And 'tis material, is not consider'd. 

Male/. Leave that to me. I'll presently give order 
How you shall surprise her ; be not frighted with 
Her exclamations. 

Monir. Be you constant to 
Your resolution, I will not fail 
In what concerns my part. 

Male/. Be ever bless'd for't ! [Exeunt., 



SCENE 11.—^ Street. 
Enter ^EAvronr Junior , Chamont, and Lanour. 

Cham. Not to be spoke with, say you ? 

Beauf.jun. No. 

Lan. Nor you 
Admitted to have conference with her? 

Beauf.jun. Neither. 
His doors are fast lock'd up, and solitude 
Dwells round about then;, no access allow'd 
To (riend or enemy ; but 

Cham. Nay, be not moved, sir; 
Let his passion work, and, like a hot-rein'd horse*, 
'Twill quickly tire itself. 

BeauJ. jun. Or in his death. 
Which, for her sake, 'till now I have forboni, 
1 will revenge the injury he hath done to 
My true and lawful love. 

Lan. How does your father, . 
The governor, relisli it? 

Beauf.jun. Troth, he never had 
Afl'ecti.jn to the match ; yet in his pity 
To me, lie's gone in jiei'^on to his house. 
Nor will he be denied ; and if he find not 
Strong and fair reasons, Malefort will hear from him 
In a kind he does not look for. 

Cham. In the mean time. 
Pray you put on cheerful looks. 

Enter Montaigne. 

Beauf. jun. IMine suit my fortune. 

Lan. O belt's Montaigne. 

Mont. I never could have met you 
More opportunely. I'll not stale the jest 
By my relation f ; but if you will look on 
The malecontent Belgarde, newly rigg'd up, 



• ■ —and, lihe a hot-rein'd horse, 

'Twill quickly tire itself.] This is I'riun Shakspearc, 

" AiiKcr is like 

A full liot liorsr, «Ii(p being allow'd his way, 
StU-ni(!lile tilts hiin." Coxeter. 

t I'll not stale the je.it 

By my relation ;\ i. e. rtiidcr it Hat, deprive it of zest by 
previous intiinaliun. Tliis is one of a tliotisaiid instances 
wldcli iMi;;lit be brought to prove tliat the true i^eading in 
Coriolanvs, Ait. I. sc. i. is, 
" I sliall 1.11 yon 

A I ittly tale ; it may be, you have heard it ; 

But since it mivcs my purpose, I will venture 

To stale t A little more." 

The old cci|.ies have scale, for which Theob.ild judiciously 

proposed stale. To this Warburton olijects pelnl.mtly enonuli, 

ii -nust be confessed, because to scale signifies to weiyh ; 



With the train that follows him, 'twill be in object 
Worthy of your noting. 

Beaif.jun. Look you the comedy 
Make good the prologue, or the scorn will dwell 
Upon yourself. 

Mo7it, I'll hazard that ; observe now. 

Belgarde comes out in a gallant hah'it ; stays at tht 
door with hin su:ord drawn. 

Several voices within. Nay, captain ! glorious 

captain ! 
Belg. Fall back, rascals ! 
Do you make an owl of me 1 this day I will 

Receive no more petitions. ~ 

Here are bills of all occasions, and all sizes ! 
If this be the pleasure of a rich suit, would I were 
Again in my buff jerkin, or my armour 1 
Then I walU'd securely by my creditors' noses. 
Not a dog marked me ; every officer .fliunn'd me, 
And not one lousy prison would receive me : 
But now, as the ballad says, I am turn d gallaiit, 
There does not live that thing I owe a sous to. 
But does torment me. A faithful cobler told me, 
With his awl in his hand, I was behind hand with 

him 
For setting me upright, and bade me look to myself. 
A sempstress toto, that traded but in socks. 
Swore she would set a Serjeant on my back 
For a borrow'd shirt : my pay, and the benevolence 
The governor and the slates bestow 'd upon me. 
The city cormorants, mv money-mongers, 
Have swallow'd duwn already ; thev were sums, 
I grant, — but that I should be such a fool, 
Against my oath, being a ciishier'd captain. 
To pay debts, tliongh grown up to one and twenty 
Deserves more reprehension, in my judgment. 
Than a sliopkeeper, or a lawyer that lends money. 
In a long, dead vaciition. 

Mont. How do you like 
His meditation ? 

Cham. Peace ! let him proceed. 

Belg. I cannot now go on the score for shame. 
And where I sliall begin to pawn — ay, marry. 
That is considered timely ! I paid for 
lliis train of yours, dame Estridge*, fourteen crowns, 
And yet it is so light, 'twill hardly pass 
For a tavern reckoning, unless it be 
To save the charge ot painting, nail'd on a post 
For the sign of the feathers. Pox upon the fashion, 
'1 hat a captain cannot think himself a ca])tain. 
If he wear not this, like a fore-horse ! yet it is not 
Staple commodity : these are perfumed too 
O' the Roman wash, and yet a stale red herring 

so, indeed, it does, and many other things; none of which, 
however, bear any relation lo the text. Steeveiis, too, pre- 
fers scale, which he provts, from a variety of leirne<l autho- 
rities, to mean " scatter, di.-peise, spread : " to maki' any of 
them, however, suit hi- purpose, he is oblig'd to yive an 
uniaitlifiil versiim of the text : " Though some of ynu have 
heard the story, I will spread it jet wider, aiiJ liiluse it 
among the rist."\ 'i here is nothing of this in Shakspeare ; 
and iiideed 1 cannot avoid looking upon ihe whole of hit 
long note, as a feeble attempt to justify a palp.ible error Ot 
tlic pres^, at the cost of taste and sense. 

Tlie mistakes of Steevt ns are dangerous, am"; should be 
noticed. They have siducid the edilois of Beaumont and 
Fletcher, who have bronglit back to tht text of llieir authors 
a conuption long since removed, on the anlliority (.is they 
say) of the quotations produced in the note lo i'oriolanut 
See Vol. vii p. 258. 

* / paid for '*' 

This train of your-, dame Estri((ye,] i. e. this tall ; tiiere 
is some liumour in thi> lively apostrophe to the ostrich. 



M> 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act IV. 



Would till the belly better, and hurt the head less: 

And this is X'euice g-<.ld ; -vvoukl 1 iiad it aii'aia 

In frencli crowns in my pocket! you com- 

manders. 
That, like ine, have no dead pays, nor can cozen 
The comiiiissarv at a muster ', let me stand 
For an example to you I as yon would 
Enjoy your privileges, videlicet. 
To pay your dvbts, a^nd tak^-our letchery grans-, 
To have your issue warm'd i)v others fires: 
To be often drunk, and swear, vet pay no forfeit 
To the poor, but when yoit share with one another; 
With all your other choice immunities : 
Only of this 1 seriously advise you, 
Let courtiers t trip like courtiers, and your lords 
Of dirt and dunghills mete tlieir woods and acres. 
In velvets, satins, tissues; but keep you 
Constant to cloih and sliamois. 

Mont. Ilave'you heard 
Of such a penilt-nt homily? 

Belg. I am studying- now 
Where I shall hide m\ seif till the rumour of 
My wealth and bravery vanish ; : let me see, 
There is a kind of vaulting- house not far off. 
Where 1 used to sjiend m.\ afternoons, among: 
Suburb she gainesiers ; and yet, now I think on't, 
I have crack'd a ring- or two there, which they made 
Others to solder : No 

Enter a Bawd, and two Courtezans with two Children. 

1 Court. ! have we sj)ied you ! [time. 
Bawd. Upon him without ceremony! now s the 

While he's in the paying- vein. 

2 Court. Save you, hrave ca])tain ! 

Beauf.Jun. 'Slight, how he stares ! they are worse 

than she-wolves to him. 
Belg. Shame me not m the streets ; I was coming 

to you. 
1 Court. O sir, you may in public pay for the 
You liad in jiriva'e. [fiddlino- 

ii Court. We hear you are full of crowns, sir, 

1 Court. And therefoie, knowing you are open- 
handed. 

Before all be destroy 'd, "• "11 put you in mind, sir. 
Of your young heir here. 

2 Court. Here's a second, sir. 
That louks for a child's portion. 



-^ O you commaiidr'rs, 

That, like we, hare no (Ii-.kI |i.n>, nnr ran cozen 
The comm.smry at a mustir,] Tliu icilhis.M-.y practices 
litre alliulud t.> (.is Mr. (Jilcln isi i.li^ervcs) ii pr.tr nut to 
have bull iiMln-qneiit, and indeed, Sir VV. D'Avennnt, vvitli 
tins, n.cinionj iiniiy siiiiilai' ciinuptions in tlie " war depart- 
ment" ot Ills lime : 

" Car. yon not s;iill the state finely, 
Mnsternp your aiiiiniinition cnssucks ftnlted with straw, 
Number a liu.Klieil toity nine dead pays. 
And thank he.iVen for jonr aiithmeti,!^ ! 
Cannot yon clotlie your i-au^ed iiiiantiy 
With e.ibbat;e leaves .' devour ilie re(kuiiin>;s, 
Acd glow lai in t: e libs, but yon iiin.-,t liind. r 
Poor an.ieiits from eainrg uann beef!" 1 he .9iV«e, Act iii. 
t l.ft cnui iters, &c ] The leader will smile at the a.-cu- 
.ate iioU..ns of melie poss.-ssed by the former edilors: this 
and the lour f.aioui.is; lines stand ihus in CoKelcr, and Mr. 
M. Ma.-i'ii : 

J^ef cnurt'ers trip like courtiers. 
And ijoiir lodxofdirt and dii/iyhills mete 
TUelr usnods auri aoes. in vi'lvets,mt:ns, tiisues ; 
hut k,eii you co.Hf'riit to clalh am shamoix. 

A/(>„| llaiv i/on /ward of such a pen trni homily ' 
I'fy WrulUi and hra\eiy vanish:] /iritvery is ii<.ed by 
«ll tlie -vniei-s of Masin^er's tune, for osl-otatieus finery of 
tppaiel. ■' 



Bawd. There are reckonings 
For muskadine and eggs too, must be thought on. 

1 Court. We have not been hasty, sir. 
Bawd. l)Ut staid your leisure : 

But now you are ripe, and loaden with fruit — 

2 Court. 'Tis fit you should be puU'd ; here's ahoy. 
Pray you, kiss him, 'tis your own, sir. [sifp 

1 Court. Nav, buss this first, 
It hath just your eyes ; and such aJ promising nose, 
That if the sign deceive me not, in time 
'Twill prove a notable striker*, like his father. 

Belg. And yet you laid it to another. 

1 Court. True, 

While you were poor ; and it was policy ; 

liut she that has variety of fathers, 

And makes not choice of liim that can maintain it, 

Ne'er studied Aristotle r. 

Lan. A. smart quean ' 

Belg. Wliy, braches, will you worry me | ? 

2 Court, No, but ease you 

Of your goUkn burthen ; the heavy cirriage may 
Bring you to a sweating sickness. 

Belg. Very likely ; 
I foam all o'er already. 

1 Court. Will you come off, sir § 1 

Belg. Would 1 had ne'er come on I Hear me with 
patience, 
Or I will anger you. Go to, you know me. 
And do not vex me further : by my sins. 
And vour diseases, which are certain truths, 
Whate'er you think, 1 am not master, at 
This instant, of a livre. 

2 Court. What, and in 
Such a glorious suit ! 

Belg. I he liker, wretched things. 
To have no money. 

Bawd. You may paw;n your clothes, sir. 

1 Court. W ill you see your issue starve? 

2 Court. Or the mothers beg? 

Belg. \\ hv, you unconscionable strumpets, 
would you have me 
Transform my hat to double .clouts and biggins'* 
My corselet to a cradle I or my belt 
To swaddlebands ! or turn my chjak to blankets ? 
Or to sell my sw-ord and spurs, for soap and candles ? 



* 'Twill prove a notable striker,] A striker is a tvcncher: 
the word occurs atjain in the parliament of hove. 

\ Ne'er studied Aristiitle] Tins has been hiilierto printed. 
Ne'er studied Aristotle s problems: a prosaic lediiiidancy, 
of whirh every reader of ftlaSsiiiger will rea'IMy aci|iut liiin. 

-f lielt;. II hy, br.iches, ivill yim worry me/] A brarhe is 
a female hound. It is strange to .see wh.il (["iiitities of paper 
have been wasted in oonli iiiiding the sense of lliis plain 
word! The pages of Shakspeare, and Joiison, and l''leti-lier, 
are inciimbcied with emiless i|nolatioiis, whicli generally 
leave the reader as ignorant as ihiy found hiiii. .Oiii', how- 
ever, whicli lias escaped liie commentators, at least the 
material part of it, is v\c]rlh all tint they have adv.inced on 
the word. 'I'he Gentleman s Ri creation, p. -28. " 'I'here are 
in Eiigl.ind and Sco'l.niil two kinds of himiiiig dogs, and no 
where else in ilie world; the first kind is c.dled i\rache,anA 
this is a fciot-sceiitiiig cre.itiire both of wilile beasts, birds, and 
fishes also whicli lie hi. I among the rocks. The female hereof 
in Enyland is called a hrac.he : a brache is A JH.SNiiRt.y 
NA.viii for all hotmd-6i/6-/i?i-.-" and when we m\i\ for all othera, 
it will be allowed ihat enough has been said on the subject. 

jl Court, n j/it/oucoMieort, s/r .'] i.e. Will yon pay, sift 
so the vKfcd is nsed by all our old dramatic writers: 

" ,-- — if he 

In the old jnstice's suit, whom he robb'il lately, 
Will come o^ronndly, we'll set him tree ii;i. ' 

The fFUcna. 
Again, in the ff'eddiny, by Shirley: 

" Wliat was the price yo'i took for Graltana? 
Did Mar wood come o^ roundly with Ins wages?" 



Scene I.] 



TTTK UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



55 



Have vou no m ?rcy t what a chargeable devil 
We carrv in o\ e breeclies ! 

Betiuf. Jan. Now 'tis time 
To fetch liim off. 

Enter BEAUFonr senior. 

Moni. > our fitlier does it for us. 

Baud. The govenlor ! 

BeinU. sen. What are these? 

1 Co crt. An it like your lordship, 
Very poor spinsters. 

Bi icd. I am his nurse and laundress, 

J elg. You have nurs'd and launder'd me, hell 
y. ni^'i, ! > [take you for it ! 

Cham. Do, do, and talk vs^ith him hereafter. 

1 Court. 'Tis our best course. 

2 Court. We'll find a time to fit him. 

[Exeunt Buwd and Courtezans. 
Beanf. sen. Why in this lieat, Belgarde ? 
Belg. You are tlie cause oft. 
Beanf . sen. Who, I'! 

Belg. "S'es, your pied livery and your gold 
Draw these vexations on me' ; pray you strip me, 



And let me be as I was : I will not lose 
The pleasures and the freedom which 1 had 
In mv certain povertv, for all the wealth 
Fair France. is ])roud of. 

Beanf. sen. We at better leisure 
Will learn the cause of this. 

Beanf Jan. What answer, sir. 
From the admiral '. 

Beaxf. sen. None ; his daughter is removed 
To the fort of IMontreville, and he liimself 
In person fl^d, but wliere, is not discover'd ; 
I could tell you wonders, but the time denies me 
Fit liberty. In a word, let it suffice 
The power of our great master is contemn'd 
The sacred laws of God and man profaned ; 
And if I sit down with this injnrv, 
I am unwortliy of mv place, and thou 
Of my acknowledgment: draw up all the troops; 
As I go, I will instruct you to what purpose. 
Such as have power to punish, and yet spare, 
From fear or from connivance, others ill. 
Though not in act, assist them in their will. 

[Exe'Mt 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — A Street near Malefort's House. 

Enter MoNTKEViLt.Eit)itfc Servants, Theocrine, Page, 

and Waiting Women. 

Montr. Bind them, and gag their moutlis sure ; 
I alone 
Will be your convoy. 

1 Worn. Madam! 

2 Worn. Dearest lad)' ! 

Page. Let me fight for my mistress. 

Serv. ' lis in vain. 
Little cockerel of the kind. 

Montr. Away with them, 
And do as I command you. 

[Exeunt Servants with Page and Waiting Women. 

Theoc. IMontreville, 
You are my father.'s friend ; nay more, a soldier, 
And if a right one, as I hope to find you, 
Though in a lawful war you had surjirised 
A city, that bow'd humbly to your jjleasure. 
In honour you stand bound to guard a virgin 
From violence ; but in a free estate. 
Of which you are a limb, to do a wrong 
Which noble enemies never consent to, 
[s such an insolence 

Montr. How her heart beats* ! 
Much like a partridge in a sparhawlc's foot, . 
That with a panting silence does lament 
The fate she cannot flv from ! Sweet, take comfort, 
You are safe, and nothing is intended to you, 
But love and service. 

Theoc. They came never clothed 
In force and outrage. Upon what assurance 
(Remembering only that my father lives, 
Wlio will not tamely suffer the disgrace) 
Have you presumed to hurry me from his house, 

• Montr, flow her heart licats ! &c. ! Tins is a viiy prttty 
eimile, and, llioui;li not altd^ether new, is made stiiking by 
the elegance with which it is expressed. 



And, as I were not worth the waiting on, 
To snatch me from the duty and attendance 
Of my poor servants ? 

Montr. Let not that afflict you. 
You shall not want observance ; I will be 
Your page, your woman, parasite, or fool, 
Or any otlier property, provided 
You answer my aflection. 

Theoc. In what kind ? 

Montr. As you had done young Beaufort s. 

Theoc. How ! 

Montr. So, lady ; 
Or, if the name of wife appear a yoke 
Too heavy for your tender neck, so I 
Enjoy you as a private friend or mistress, 
'Twill be sufficient. 

Theoc. Blessed angels guard me ! 
What frontless impudence is this ? what devil 
Hath, to thy certain ruin, tempted thee 
To ort'er me this motion? by my hopes 
Of after joys, submission nor repentance 
Shall expiate this foul intent. 

Montr. Intent ! 
'Tis more, I'll make it act. 

Theoc. Ribald, thou darest not : 
And if (and with a fever to thy soul) 
'I'hou but consider that I have a father. 
And such a father, as, when this arrives at 
His knowledge, as it shall, the terror of 
His vengeance, which as sure as fate must follow, 
Will make thee curse the hour in which lust taught 

thee 
To nourish these bad hopes ; — and 'tis my wonder 
Thou darest forget how tender he is of me. 
And that each shadow of wrong done to me. 

Will raise in him a tempest not to be [him 

But with thy heart-blood calm'd : this, when I see, 

Montr. As thou shalt never 
Theoc. Wilt thou murder me ? 



se 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[Act V. 



Montr. No, no, 'tis otherwise detonnined, fool. 
The muster which in passion kills his slave 
That may be useful to him, does himself 
The injury: know, thou most wretched creature, 
That father thou presumest upon, that father, 
That, when 1 sought thee in a noble way. 
Denied thee to me, fancvinsf in liis hope 
A hi^ihsr niatcli from his excess of dotage. 
Hath in his b .^vels kindled such a flame 
Of impious and most unnatural lust, 
That now he tears his most furious desires 
Mav force him to do that, lie shakes to think on. 

Theoc. O me, most wretched ! 

Montr. Never hope again 
To blast !i m with those eves : their golden beams 
Are to him arrows of death and hell. 
But unto me divine artillerv 
And therefore, since what I so long in vain 
Pursued, is offer 'd to me, and by him 
Given up to my possession ; do net flatter 
Thyself with an imaginary hope. 
But that I'll lake occa^ion by the forelock. 
And make use of my fortune. As we walk, 
I'll tell thee more. 

Theoc. 1 will not stir. 

Montr. I'll force thee. 

Theoc. Help, help ! 

Montr. In vain. 

Theoc. In me my brother's blood 
Is punish'd at the height. 

Montr. 'I'he coach there ! 

Theoc. Dear sir 

Montr. Tears, curses, pi-aye' s, are alike to me ; 
I can, and must enjoy my present pleasure, 
And shall take time to mourn for it at leisure. 

[He bears her off. 



SCENE U.—A Space he/ore the Fort. 
Enter Malifort. 

I have play'd the fool, the gross fool, to believe 
The bosom of a friend wil.l hold a secret, 
Mine own could not contain ; and my industry 
In taking liberty from mv innocent daughter. 
Out of false hoj)es of freedom to myself, 
■ Is, in the little help it yields me, punish'd. 
She's absent, but 1 have her figure here ; 
And every grace and r;iritv about her. 
Are bv the ])encil of my memory, 
III living colours jiainted on my heart. 
My fires too, a slmrt interim closed up, 
Break out with greater fury. Why was I, 
Since 'twas my fate, and not to be declined, 
In this so tender-i onscienced? Say I hud 
Enjoy 'd wlirtt 1 desired, what had it been 
But incest? and there's something here that tells me 
I stand acconiptuble for greater sins 
1 never check'd ai*. A' either had the crime 
Wanted a precedent : I have read in story f, 

• and there's something here that tellt me 

I titaud uccdtn/ table fur yrealer s.ns 

I nevrr ihecii d tit.\ J lie,-e <l.iik rtllusioiis ti> .1 ilreafhul 
fact, ail- iiitiudiictii uilli admiidblc jii<lgiiiiiii,as iliey awnkcii, 
witlujiil i;r.iiiiun«, [lit curiosity ul' ilic reidcr, and contiiiiie 
tlie iulcio.-l III tlie stmy. 

t — / hiivK read in ttory, Sec] He li.id been study- 
ing 0\id, and p ,iii.i_l,ii ly iliu die.idliil sii.iy of Manila. 
This wivlcliid alien.pl ot j\I.d. Ii.it (a Chii.-li.in. at Ita-t in 
name, wu may siipjji.se) to palliate, or di-lciiil lii,-. iiiuditdted 
crinif, by the examples ot labulous dutie:-, intn iu a state 



Tho^^e first great heroes, that for their brave deeds 
^VVere in the world's first infancy styled gods. 
Freely enjoy'd what I denied myself. 
Old Saturn, in the golden age, embraced 
His sister Ops, and, in the same degree, 
'J'he Thunderer Juno, Neptune Thetis, and, 
By their example, af.er the first deluge, 
Deucalion Pyrrha. Universal nature. 
As every day 'tis evident, allows it 
To creatures of all kinds : the gallant horse 
Covers the mare to which he was the sire ; 
The bird with fertile seed gives new increase 
To lier that hatch'd him : why should envious man 
Brand that close act, which adds proximity [then 
'Jo what's most near him, with the abhorred title 
Of incest? or our Liter luws forbid 
What by the first was granted ? Let old men. 
That are not capable of these delights, 
And solemn superstitious fools, pre.vcribe 
Pvules to themselves ; 1 will not curb my freedom. 
But constantly go on, with this assurance, 
I but walk in a path which greater men 
Have trod before me. Ha ! this is tlie fort : 
Open the gate ! W'ithin, there ! 

Enter tvo Soldiers. 

1 Sold. W ith your pardon 
We must forbid your entrance. 
Malef. Do you know me ? 
'i Sold. Perfectly, my lord. 
Malef. 1 am [your] cujiiain's friend*. 

1 Sold. It mav be ?o ; but till we know his plea- 
You must exctise us. fsure, 

2 Sold. We'll acquaint him w ith 
Your waiting here. 

Malef. \\'aiting, slave ! he was ever 
By me commandt- d. 

1 Sold. As we are by him. 

Malef. So punctual ! \n-dy you then, in my name 
His presence. [entreat 

"■2 Sold. '1 hat we shall do. [Ljewnf 

Mulef. I must use 
Some strange jiersuasions to work liim to 
Deliver her, and to forget the vows. 
And horrid oaths I, in mv madness, made him 
Take to the contrary : and may 1 get her 
Once more in my possession, I will bear her 
Into some close cave or desert, where veil end 
Our lusts and lives together. 

Enter IM-ONinEviLLE, and Soldiers. 

Montr. Fail not, on 
The forfeit of your lives, to execute 
What 1 command. [E:teinit Soldiers 

MuleJ'. IMontreville ! how is't friend ? 

]\Iontr. I am glad to see you wear such cheerful 
The world's well alter'd. [loolqs ; 

Malef. Yes, I thank my stars : 
But niethinks thou art troubled. 

Montr. Some light cross, 
But of no moment. 



of nature, and btasts, is a jnst and .'triking picture of the 
eagevnL>s with which a niin.l ref<.lved in guilt n in .sieis to 
its own derepiion. This, in the Seiiptiiri- phrastidogy, is 
called, " hanleniiig the heart ;" and seems to be the last 
stage of hninan depravation. 

» Malef. J am {yunr) ca/jtain's friend.' Coxeter follow- 
ing the i-lil copy, le.ids, J am thi> captain's friend. Mr. M. 
Mason altered this to thy: U aii\ eh.iiij;e be necssary, of 
which I am doubitnl, the word now iaseited bids laiiest to 
be genuine (omitted in edit. 1813). 



Scene IT.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



57 



Male/. So 1 hope ; beware 
Of sad ami impious thoughts ; you know how far 
They wroiiglit on me, 

Montr. No such coiue near me, sir. 
I have, like you, no daugliter, and much wish 
You never liad been curs'd with one. 

Malef. \Vho, I f 
Thou art deceived, I am most ';appy in her. 

Montr. 1 am glad to hear it. 

Male/. .My incestuous fires 
To'ards her "are quite burnt out ; I love her now 
As a father, and no further 

Montr. Fix there then 
V'our constant peace, and do not try a second 
Temptation from her. 

Malef. Yes, jViend, though she were 
By millions of degrees more excellent 
In her perfections ; nay, though she could borrow 
A form angelical to take my frailty, 
It would not do: and therefore, Montreville, 
My chief delight next her, I come to tell thee 
The governor and 1 are reconciled. 
And I confirra'd, and with all possible speed, 
To make large satisfaction to young Beaufort, 
And her, whom I have so much wrong'd : and for 
Thy trouble in her custody, of which 
I'll now discharge thee, there is nothing in 
My nerves or fortunes, but shall ever be 
At thy devotion. 

Montr. Vou promise fairly, 
Nor doubt I the performance ; yet I would not 
Hereafter be reported to have been 
The principal occasion of your falling 
Into a relapse: or but suppose, out of 
The easiness of my nature, and assurance 
You are firm and can hold out, I could consent ; 
You needs must know there are so many lets* 
That make against it, that it is my wonder 
You offer me the motion ; having bound me 
With oaths and imprecations on no terms, 
Reasons, or arguments, you could propose, 
I wer should admit you to her sight, 
Much less restore her to you. 

Malef. Are we soldiers, 
And stand on oaths ! 

Montr. It is beyond my knowledge 
In what we are more worthy, than in keeping 
Our words, muih more our vows. 

Malef. Heaven pardon all ! 
How many thousands, in our heat of wine, 
Quarrels, and play, and in our younger days, 
In private I may say, between ourselves. 
In points of love, have we to answer for. 
Should we be scrupulous that way 1 

Montr. You say well : 
And very aptly call to memory 
Two oaths against all ties and rites of friendship 
Broken by you to me. 

Malef. No more of that. 

Montr. Yes, 'tis material, and to the purpose : 
The first (and think upon't) was, when I brought 

you 
As a visitant to my mistress then, ( the mother 
Of this same daughter,) whom, with dreadful words. 
Too hideous to remember, you swore deeply 
For my sake never to attempt ; yet then. 
Then, wlien you had a sweet wife of yoar own. 



• you needs mvst know there are so many lets] i, e. impe- 
dinieiit<, obstacles, &o. Se« tlie Viryin-Martyr. 



1 know not with 'vhat arts, philtres, and charms 
( Unless in wealth * and fame you were above me) 
You won her from me ; and, her grant obtain'd, 
A marriage with the second waited on 
The burial of the first, that to the world 
Brought your dead son : this I sat tamely down by. 
Wanting, indeed, occasion and power 
To be at the height revenged. 

Malef. Yet this you seem'd 
Freely to pardon. 

Montr. As perhaps I did. 
Your daugliler I'heocrine growing ripe, 
( I ler mother too decea-ed,) atid fit for marriage, 
I was a suitor for her, had your word. 
Upon your honour, and our friendship made 
Authentical, and ratified with an oath, 
She should be mine : but vows with you being like 
To your religion, a nolPof wax 
To be turn'd every way, that very day 
The governor's son but making his approaches 
Of courtship to her, the wind of your ambition 
For her advancement, scatter'd the thin sand 
In which you wrote your full consent to me, 
An<l drew vou to his party. What hath pass'd since, 
You bear a register in your own bosom. 
That can at large inform you. 

Malef. Montreville, 
I do confess all that you charge me with 
To be strong truth, and that 1 bring a cause 
Most miserably guilty, and acknowledge 
That though your goodness made me mine own judg«, 
I should not shew the least compassion 
Or mercy to myself. O, let not yet 
My foulness taint your pureness, or my falsehood 
Divert the torrent of your loyal faith ! 
My ills, if not return'd by you, will add 
Lustre to your much good; and to o'ercome 
With noble sufferance, will express your strength 
And frium])h o'er my w;eakness. If you please too 
My black deeds being only known to you, 
And, in surrendering up my daughter, buried. 
You not alone make me your slave, (for I 
At no part do deserve the name of friend,) 
But in your own breast raise a monument 
Of pity to a wretch, on whom with justice 
You may express all cruelty, 

Montr. You much move me. 

Malef. O that I could but hope it ! To revenge 
An injury is proper to the wishes 
Of feeble women, that want strength to act itf • 
But to have power to punish, and yet pardon. 
Peculiar to princes. See ! these knees. 
That liave been ever stiff to bend to heaven. 
To you are supple. Is there aught beyond this 
That may speak my submission ? or can pride 
( I hough I well know it is a stranger to you) 
J)esire a feast of more humility, 
To kill her growing appetite ? 

Mo)itr. 1 required not 
To be sought to this poor wayj ; yet 'tis so far 

( Unless in wealth, &c.] i. e. Unless it uere that in wealth. 



&c. 

t 



- To revenge 



An injury is proper to the wishes 

Of feeble women, that want strength to act it :] 

Qui pe minvti 

Semper et infirmi est animi exiyuUitte voluptat 
Ultio. Continuo sic coltiye, quod viYtdicIa 

Kemo muyis yaudet, quam fcemina."- 

Juv. Sivt. xlii. 102. 
J Mfintr. / required not 
To be soutjht to this poor way ;] So the old copy : th« 



58 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



[ActV 



A kind cT satisfaction, tliat I will 

Dispense a little with those serious oaths 

You made me take : your dau!;liter shaU'cometoyou, 

I will not say, as you deliver'd her. 

But as she is, you may dispone of her 

As vou shall think most requisite. I Exit. 

jihilef. His last words 
Are riddles to me. Here the linn's force 
Would have proved useless, and, pgajnst my nature, 
Compell'd me from the crocodile tn borrow 
Her counterl'eit tears : there s now no turning back- 
ward. 
May I but quench these fires that rai^e within me, 
And fall what can fall, I am arm'd to bearit ! 

Enter Soldiers, thrusting forth Tiieocuine ; her 
garments loose, Iter hair dishevelled. 

2 Sold. You must be pacHBp:. 

Theoc. Hatli he robb'd me of 
Mine honour, and denies me now a room 
To hide my shame ! 

^2 Sold. M ,' lord the admiral 
Attends your ladyship. 

1 Sold. Close ilie jxirt, and leave them. 

[iheiiiit Soldiers. 

Mcdfif. Ha! who is this? how alter'd ! how de- 
form'd ! 
It cannot be : and y^t this creature has 
A kind of a resemblance to my daughter, 
My 1 heocrine ! but as different 
From ihat she was, as bodies dead are, in 
Their best perfections, from what they were 
When they had lii'e and motion. 

Theoc. 'lis most true, sir; 
I am dead, indeed, to all but misery. 

come not near me, sir, I am infectious ; 
To look on me at distance, is as dangerous 
As from a pinnacle's cloud-kissing- spire 
Wiih giddy eyes to view the steep descent; 
But to acknowledge me, a certain ruin. 

O. sir ! 

Malef. Speak, Theocrine, force me not 
To further question ; my fears already 
Have choked my vital spirits. 

Theoc. Pray you turn away 
Your face and hear me, and with my last breath 
Give me leave to accuse you : what otience, 
From my first infancy, did I commit, 
That for a punishment > ou should give up 
My virgin chastity to the treacherous guard 
Of goansh Montreville ! 

Malef. What hath he done ! 

Theoc. Abused me, sir, by violence ; and this told, 

1 cannot live to speak more : may the cause 
In you find jiardon, but the speeding- curse 
Of a ravish "d maid fall heavy, heavy on him I 
Beaufort, my lawful love, farewell for ever. [Dies. 

mdderii editors, ignorant of the language of tlietinie, arbi- 
trarily fxcliangf to for in, and thus ptrvert the sense. I'o 
seeli to, is lo supplicate, entreat, liave earnest recourse to, 
&f., which is tlie meaning of the text. 

There was a book, much read by oiir ancestors, from 
which, as beini; the pure well-head of tnglisli prose, Ihcy 
deiived a number of phrases that havcsoiely puzzled their 
desi-e,n(lants. This book, whiclris fortunately slill in existence, 
is ihe Bible : and I venture to alhrni, M-iiiiout fear of con- 
tiadiction, that iliose old tashioned people who have studied 
it well, are as competent judges of the meaning of our ancient 
wrileis, as most of llie devourers of black literature, fiom 
■J'lieob.ilil to Steevcns. The expression in the text fre(|uenily 
oreius in it: " And Asa was diseasid in his feet-\et in his 
dl-l.^^e he sonyht not to the Lord, but to the physicians." 
*>. Chron. xvi. 12, 



Malef. Take not thy flight so soon, immaculate 
'Tis fied already. — How the innocent, [spiri* 

As in a gentle slumber, pass away ! 
But to cut oft" tlie knotly thread of life 
In guilty men, must force-stern Atro])os 
To use her sharp knife often. 1 would help 
The edge of her's with the sharp j)oint of mine. 
But that I dare not die, till 1 have rent 
1 his dog's heat. ,)iecemeal. 0, that I had wings 
To scale these wa Is, or tliat mv hands were cannons 
To bore their flinty sides ! that I might bring 
The villain in the reach of my good sword 1 
The Turkish empire offer'd for his ransome, 
Should not redeem his life. O that mv voice 
Were loud as thunder, arid with horrid sounds 
Mig-lit force a dreadful passage to his ears, 
And through tliein reach his soul ! libidinous monster' 
Foul ravisher ! as thou durst do a deed 
Which forced the sun to hide his glorious face 
Behind a sable mask of clouds, appear, 
And as a man defend it : or like me, 
Shew some compunction for it. 

Enter INIoNTREViLLE on the Walls above. 

Montr. Ha, ha, ha! 

Male/. Is this an object to raise mirth? 

Montr. \es, yes. 

Malef. My daughter's dead. 

Montr. '[ hou luulst best follow her ; 
Or if tliou art the thing thou art reported, 
1 hou shouldst have Jed the way. Do tear thy hair 
Lil^e a village nurse, and mourn, while 1 1-augh at thee. 
Be but a just ex-aminer of thyself. 
And in an equal b-alance poi^e the nothing, 
Or little mischief I have done, compared [thou 

With the pond'ious weight of thine ; and how canst 
Accuse or argue with me ? mine was a rape. 
And she being- in a kind contracted to me, 
The fact may challenge some qualification; 
But thy intent made nature's self run backward, 
And done, had caused an earthquake. 

Enter Soldiers above. 

t Sold. Captain ! 

Montr. Ha! [slain 

2 Sold. Our outworks are surprised, the sentinel 
The corps de guard defeated too. 

Montr. By whom ? 

1 Sold. Ihe sudden storm and darkness of the night 
Forbids the knowledge ; make up speedily. 
Or ali is lost. [Exeunt. 

Montr. In tlie devil's name, whence comes 

this? ■ [Exit. 

[.i Storm ; %cith thunder and lightning. 

Malef. Do, do rage on ! rend open, ^'Eolus, 
Thy brazen prison, and let loose at once 
Thy stormy issue ! Blustering Boreas, 
Aided with all the gales the pilot number.s 
Upon his compass, cannot raise a tempest 
Through the vast region of the air, like that 
I feel within me : for I am possess'd 
With whirlwinds, and each guilty thought to me is 
A dreadful hurricane*. Though this centre 



* A dreadful hurricano.l So tlie old copy, and rightly : 
the moderii editors piefer hurricane, a simple improvement, 
which merely destroys the metre ! How they contrive to 
read the line, thus printed, I cannot conceive. With respect 
to hurricane, I doubt whellit r it was much in use in Mas- 
siiiger s lime ; he and his contemporaries i-lmoft invariably 
wrice ^anjcano,. just as they receive it from the Portuguese 
narrators of voyages, &c. 



Scene II.] 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



59 



Labour to brin<r forth earthquakes, and hell open 
Her wide-stietcli'd jaws, aud let out all her furies. 
Thev cannot add an atom to the mount-.iin 
Of ffav< and teirours that each minute threaten 
To iiiU on my accursed head. — 

Enter the Ghost of young Malefort, naked from the 
ivaiit. fi U of wounds, leading in the !ihadow of a 
Lu'lq. iiirjace leprous. 

Ha ! is't fancy ? 
Or hath 'h 11 hea-d me, and makes proof if I 
Dare sta id the tn-.d? Yes, I do ; and now 
I view 1 1 ^e app.nitions, 1 feel 

I on e di 1 know he substances. Forwhatcomeyou ? 
Are y -..r a( rial f jrms deprived of lang-iiage, 
And oo dtnied to tell me, that by siuns 

[The Ghosts use gestures. 
V'ou bid me ask here of thyself*? 'Tis so : 
And tliere is something here makes answer for you. 
You come to lance my sear'd up conscience ; yes, 
And to instruct me, that those thunderbolts, 
That Imrl'd me headlong from the height of glory. 
Wealth, honours, worldly happiness, were forged 
Upon the anvil of my impious wrongs 
And cruelty to you ! I do confess it ; 
And that n^y lust compelling me to make way 
For a second wife, I poison'd thee ; and that 
Tlje cause (wliich to the world is undiscover'd) 
That forced thee to shake oft" thv filial duty 
To me, thy father, had its spring and source 
From thy impatience, to know thy mother. 
That witli all duty and obedience served me, 
(For now with horror I acknowledge it,) 
Removed unjustly : yet, thou being my son, 
Weit not a competent judge mark'd out by heaven 
For her revenger, which thy falling by 
My weaker hand confirm'd. — [Ansuered still by signs. 

'Tis granted by thee. 

Can ai.y penance expiate my guilt. 

Or can repentance save me ! — [The ghosts disappear. 

— — They are vanish'd ! 
What's left to do then? I'll accuse my fate. 
That aid not fa>hion me for nobler uses : 
For if those stars cross to me inmv birth. 
Had not denied their prosperous influence to it, 
With peace of conscience, like to innocent men, 
I might have, ceased to be, and not as now, 

To curse my cause of being 

[He is kilted with a fash of lightning. 

Enter Belgarde with Soldiers. 

Belg. Here's a night 
To season my silks ! Buff-jerkin, now I miss thee: 
Thou hast endured many foul nights, but never 
One like to this. How fine my feather looks now ! 
Just like a ( apon's tail stol'n out of the pen, 
And Lid in the sink ; and yet 't had been dishonour 
To have ciiarged without it. — Wilt thou never cease f? 
Is the petard, as I gave directions, fasten'd 
On the portcullis? 

1 !^old. It ]ia h been attempted 
By divers, but in vain. 

Bclg. l hese are your gallants. 
That at a teast take the first place, poor I 
Hardly allow'd to follow ; marry, in 



* You bid me a«k here of myself >.] Asiic-iKwQ, pointing 
to his !>ria;.[. 

+ tt'Ut thou 7icver cease?] Tliis tlioit apottroplic is ad- 
ti-esst^U lo the slonu. 



These foolish businesses they are content 
That I shall have precedence : 1 mui-.h tliank 
Their manners or their fear. Second me, soldiers ; 
They have had no time to undennine. or if 
They have, it is but blowing up, and fetching 
A caper or two in the air ; and I will do it. 
Rather than blow my nails here. 

2 Sold. O brave captain ? [Exeunt. 

An alarum ; noise and cries within. After afionrish 
enter Beaufort senior, Beaufout junior, Mon 

TAIGNK, ('llAMONT, LaNOUU, BeLUARDE, and Sol- 
diers, Wi't/l Montheville. 

Montr. Racks cannot force more frojja me than I have 
Already to'd you : I expect no fitvour ; , 
I have cast up my accompt. 

Beanf. sen. 'Jake you^he charge 
Of the I'ort, Belgarde ; your dangers have deserved it. 

Bel". I thank your excellence ; this will keep me 
safe yet 
From beiiii; puU'd by the sleeve, and bid remember 
The thing I wot oC 

Beauf.jun. All that have eyes to weep, 
Spare one tear with me. 1 heocrine's dead. 

Jllonfr. Her father too lies breathless here, I think 
Struc k dead with thunder. 

Cham. 'Tis apparent : how 
His carcass smells ! 

Lan. His face is alter'd to 
Another colour. 

Beauf.jun But here's one retains 
Her native innocence, that never yet 
Call'd down heaven's anger. 

Beanf. sen. 'Tis in vain to mourn 
For wliat's past helj). We will refer, bad man, 
Your sentence to the king. IMay we make use of 
This great example, and learn from it, that 
There cannot be a want of power above, 
To punish murder and unlawful love ! [Bxeunt*. 

• This Play opens with considerable interest and vigour: 
but the principal action is quickly exli;iiibled by ils own 
bri>ki]ess. The Unnatural Combat ends caily in ihe second 
act, and leaves the reader at a lo>s wJi.it tiniher to expect. 
The ri inclining part, al least from tlie Ui^iniiing of tlie tourlli 
act might be called llie Unnatural Altailuiient. Yet ihe two 
subji els are not without connexion ; and tliis is atiurded 
cliietly by the projected marriage of young Beaufort and 
Theocriiie, which Malcfort urges as the consequence of bis 
victory. 

Tlie piece is therefore to be considered not so much in itt 
plot, as in its cliaracters ; and these are drawn with great 
force, and admirable discrimination. Tlie piry felt at first 
for old Malefort, is soon cliaiiged into horror and detesta- 
tion ; while the dread inspired by ihe son is somewhat relieved 
by the suspicion tliai he avenges tlie caure of a murdered 
mollier. Their parley is as terrible as llieir combat ; and 
they encounter with a fury of p.ission and a deadliness of 
lia'ied aiiproacbing to savage nature. — Claudian will almost 
describe them : — 

Tortus aper, fulvusqve lio cohere siiperbis 
Virihus ; hie seta seevior, iJe juba. 
On the other hand, Monlreville artfully con<-f:i's his enmity 
till he can be " al the height revenged." D. prived of The- 
ociine by Malefort's treachery, he jet appears his" bosom 
friend," otters to be his second in the combat, on account of 
their tried ajtection •' from his inf.iiicj," and seems even to 
rec(pnimend the marriage of Theociine wiili his rival. To 
Theocrine herself, who can less comprthtnd his designs, lie 
shewp some glimpses of spleen from the beginning. He takes 
a malign. nt pleasure in wounding her delicacy with light and 
viciiius talking; and when at length he has i ossession other 
person, and is preparing thadi-honour «hich ends in her 
death, he t.ilks to her of his villainims purpose " ith a coolness 
which shews him determined on his revenge, and secure ol 
its acconiplit^hnietit. 

Theocrine litrself is admirable throughout the piece. She 



«0 



THE UNNATURAL COMBAT. 



FAct V. 



has a trtie virgin modesty, and, perhaps, one of the best marks 
of modesty, a true virgin frankness. We admire her fearless 
purity of thought, hci iilial reverence, and her nnconscious- 
ness of the iniquity that approaches her; and we are filled 
Vfith the most tender concern for the indignities to which 
ihe is exposed, and the fitc which she sntTers. 

Among the lighter characters', Montaigne, CUamont, and 
Lanonr are well drawn. They are some of those ii>significant 
people who endeavour to support themselves in society by a 
ready subjection to the will of others. When Malefort is 
4D his trial, they are glad to be his accusers ; and it is allowed | 



(hat they " push him hard." Alter his victory, they are most 
eager to profess themselves his friends and adinitcrs. When 
he is in his moody humour, they sooth him, that being Ihe 
"safest course* ;" and when Beaufort at lengih takes up the 
neglected Belgarde, they are the first to lavish their money 
upon him. — Dr. Ireland. 



• This consistency in their insipid characters would of 
itself dettrniine to whom »hese wuiils belong, if the etUtut 
bad not given them to Chaniout on other accv. unta. 



THE DFKE OF MILAN. 



The Duke of Milan.] Of this Tragedy there are two editions in quarto ; the first, which is vprv correo"; 
and now very rare, bears date 16vi,S ; the other, of littlr- value, 1()38. It does not appear in the Office-book 
of the licenser; from which we may be certain that it was ufnon;>; tlie aut lor's earliest perforiniiicss. 

The plot, a^ the editor of the Companion to the Pluij Hoaae observes, i.-; founded on Guicciar.lini, Lib. viii. 
This, however, is a mistaken idea, as if Massing-er was at all indebted to Guicciardini, it must be to his 
xvth and xixth books. It sliould be added, however, tliat hy thii expression nothing more must ba under- 
stood than that a leading circumstance or two is taken from t!ie historian. There was certainly a struggle, 
m Italy between the emperor and the king of France, in which the duke of Milan sided with the latter, who 
was defeated and taken prisoner at the fatal battle of Favia. The rest, the poet has supplied, as suited liis 
design. Charles was not in Italy when this victory was gained by his generals ; and the final restoration 
of the jMilanese to Sforza took place at a period long siib^ecjuent to ihat event. The duke is named Ludo- 
vico in the list of dramatis person-* ; and it is observable that Massinger has entered with great accuracy 
into the vigorous and active character of that prince : he, however, had long been dead, and Francis Sforza, 
the real agent in this play, was little ca])able of the spirited [)art h;^re allotted to him. The Italian writers 
term him a weak and irresolute prince, the sport of fortune and the victim of indecision. 

The remaining p^irt of the plot is from Joseplius's Historii of the Jews, lib. xv. ch. 4 ; an interesting story, 
which has been told in many languages, and more than once in our own. The last piece on the subject 
was, I believe, the Mariamne of Fenton, which, though infinitely inferior to the Duke of Milan, was, as I 
have heard, very well received. 

That Fenton had read Massinger before he wrote his tragedy, is certain from internal evidence ; there are 
not, however, many marks of similarity ; on the whole the former is as cold, uninteresting, and improbable, 
as the latter is ardent, natural, and atfecting. Massinger has but two deaths ; while, in Fenton, six out of 
eleven personages perish, with nearly as much rapidity, and as little necessity as the heroes of Tom Thumb 
or Chrononhotonthologos. 

It is said, in the title-page, to have " been often acted by his Majesty's Servants at the Black Friars." 
Either through ignorance or disingenuity, Coxeter and M. Mason represent it as frequently performed in 
1623, giving, as in every other instance, the time of publication for that of its appearance on the stage. 



TO THL RIGHT lIONOUnABLE, 
AND MUCH ESTEEMED FOR HER HIGH BIRTH, BUT MORE ADMIRED FOR HER TIKTUE,' 

THE LADY CATHERINE STANHOPE, 

WIFE TO PHILIP LORD STANHOPE, 

BARON OF SHELFORD. 

Madam, 

If I were not most assured that works of this nature have found both patronage and protection amongst the 
greatest princesses* of Italy, and are at this day cherislied by persons most eminent in our kingdom, I 
should not presume to offer these my weak and imperfect laliours at the altar of your favour. Let the 
example of others, more knowing, and more experienced in this kindness (if my boldness offend) plead my 
pardon, and the rather, since there is no other means left me (my misfortunes having cast me on this course) 
to publish to the world (if it hold the least good opinion of me) that I am ever your ladyshi])'s creature 
Vouchsafe, therefore, with the never-failing clemency of your noble disposition, not to contemn the tender 
of bis duty, who, while he is, will ever be 

An humble Servant to your 

Ladyship, and yours 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



• Princestes] So the quarto 1623. That of 1638 Ahibits princes, which Coxeter, and consequently M. Mason, follows. 



C2 



THE DUKE OF MILAN 



[Act I, 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



LuDOvico Sforza, supposed duke of Milan. 
Francisco, his especial favourite. 

TiBERio, I ior,is „f his council. 

Stk^hano, > *^ 

GitACf no, a creature o/" Mariana. 

Jul. 10. ) 

,-, J Courtiers. 

(lIOVANNI, ) 

Chahlis i'he emperor. 

PiscAHA, an imperialist, hut a friend to Sforza. 

Heiinando, j 

Medina, >captains to the emperor. 

Al.PHONSO, ' 



Three Gentlemen. 

An Officer. 

Two Doctors. Two Couriers, 

Maucelia, the dutchess,icife to Sforza. 

Isabella, mother to Sforza. 

Mariana, luife to Francisco, and sist0 to SFonjr.i 

Eugenia, sister tn Francisco. 

A Gentlewoman. 

A Guard, Servants, Fiddlers, Attendants. 



SCENE, for tbe first and second acts, in Milan ; during part of the third, in the Imperial Camp near 
Pavia ; the rest of the play, in Milan, and its neighbourhood. 



ACT I. 



JSCF.NE I. — Ilfi7art. An outer Room in the Castle*. 

Enter Ghaccho, Julio, and Giovanni t. i^'t'' 
Flaggoiis. 

Gruc. Take every man his flaggon : give the oath 
To all you meet ; I am this day tlie state-drunkard, 
"I'm sure against my will ; and if you find 
A mail at ten that's sober, he's a traitor, 
And, in mv name, arrest him. 

Jul. \'ery good, sir : 
Buf, sav he be a sexton ? 

Grac. If the bells 
King out of tune J, as if the street were buining, 
'And he cry, 'Tis rare music ; bid him sleep : 
'Tis a sigii he has ta'en his liquor ; and if you meet 
An officer preaching of sobriety, ' 

Unless he read it in Geneva print §, 
Jyay him by the heels. 

' MiUii. .4ii oilier Room in the Castle} The old copies 
h,i e ii'> (listiiiclion of scenery ; imleed, they cnuld h.tve none 
wiih tluir iiii-eiMble pUlfonn and raised g.illery, but what 
was ^lll•lll^lled by a board with Milan or Kltodes painted npon 
it. 1 liave ventured to supply it, in conformity to the modern 
mode of prinlius; Sliaksiieare, and to consult the ea*e of the 
general rea<ler. I know not what pricked forward Coxetcr, 
but lie tlmusht proper (for the first time) to be precise in this 
Pla>, and specify the place of action. I Can neither com- 
pliment him npon his judgment, nor Mr. M. Mason upon liis 
good sense in following him: the description here is, ".Vc^np, 
a ptiblic Palace in Pisa," Pisa ! a place which ij not once 
menlioned, nor even hinted at, in the whole play. 

t Julio, and Giovanni,] Tliese are not found among the 
old dramatis persons, nor are they ol much importance. In 
a subsequent scene, where they make their appearance a* 1st 
and 'ind (lentlemen, I have taken the liberty to name them 
again. Jomo, which stood in this ccene, appears to be a 
misprint for Julio. 
1 Crac. If the bells 

Ring out of tune, &c.] i. e. backward : the usual signal ef 
alarm, on the breaking out of fires. So in the Captain: 

" certainly, my body 

Is all a wildfire, lor my head riny^ backward." 
Again : in the City Match : 

Then, sir, in time 

You may be remember'd at the quenching of 
Fired houses, when the bells rinn backward, by 
Your name upon the buckets." 
■; Unless he read it in Geneva print,] Alluding to the 
(piriiuous |i(|4ior so called. M. Mason. 



Jul. But think you 'tis a fault 
To be found sober ? 

Grac. It is capital treason ; 
Or, if you mitigate it, let such pay 
Forty crowns to the poor : but give a pension 
To all the magistrates you find singing calclies. 
Or their wives dancing ; for the courtiers reeling, 
And the duke liimself, I dare not say distemper'd ', 
But kind, and in his tottering chair carousing, 
They do the country service. If vou meet 
One that eats bread, a child of ignorance, 
And bred up in darkness of no drinking. 
Against his will you may initiate him 
In the true posture ; though he die in the taking 
His drench, it skills notf: what's a ])rivate man. 
For the public honour ? We've nought e!.se to think 
And so, dear friends, copartners in mv travails, [on. 
Drink hard ; and let the health run through the city, 
Until it reel again, and with me cry. 
Long live the dutchess ! 

Enter Tiberio and Stepiiano. 

Jul. Here are two lords ; — what think yon ? 
Shall we give the oath to them? 

Grac. Fie ! no : I know them, 
You need not swear them ; your lord, by his patent. 
Stands bound to take his rouse}:. Long live the 
dutchess ! [Exeunt Grac. Jul. and Gio 



• -/ dare not say distemper'd,] i. e intoxicated : so 

the word is frequently used by our old writers. Tluis Shirley : 
" Clear. My lord, he's gone, 
" Lod. How .' 
" Clear. Distemper'd. 

" I,od. Not with wine?" The Grateful Sersani. 
It occurs also in Hamlet. 

t thonijh he die in the takiny 

His drench, h skills not : &c.] It matters or signifies not. 
So in the Oamistrr : 

" Neph. I desire no man's privilege: it skills not whtlheT 
I be kin to any mm living." 

+ ;/i'ur lord, by his patent. 

Stands bound to take his rouse.] This word bis never been 
properly c\pl.iined. It occurs in Hamlet, v,hv\i: it is sail' by 
Slee>eiis, a" well as Johnson, to mean a qnanlily of I'rinor 
rithcB too larL'e : the latter derives it from rusch, h ill lir: ik, 
Germ, while he brings crtroiiscfromi/arauw, all out ! Huuse 



Scene I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



63 



SUph. The cause of tins ? but yesterday the court 
Wore the s-.id livery of distrust and fear ; 
No smile, not in a buffoon to be seen. 
Or common jester : the Great Duke himself 
Had sorrow in his face; which, waited on 
Bv his mother, sister, ami his fiirest dutchess, 
Dispersed a silent mourninG: throuoji all Milan ; 
As if some p^reat blow Iiad been given the state. 
Or were at least expected. 

Tib. Stephano, 

know as you are noble, you are honest, 
And capable of secrets of more weight 
Than now I shall deliver. If t'lat Sforza, 
The present duke, (thout;h his whole life hath been 
But one continued pilgrimage through dangers, 
Affrio-hts, and horrors, which his fortune guided 
Bv his strong- judgment, still hath overcome,) 
Appears now shaken, it deserves no wonder : 
All that his youth hath labour'd for, the harvest 
Sown by his industry readv to be reap'd too, 
Being now at stake ; and all his hopes confiim'd. 
Or lost for ever. 

Steph. I know no such h'azard : 
His guards are strong and sure, his coifers full; 
The people well affected; and so wisely 
His provident care hath wrought, that though war 

rages 
In most parts of our western world, there is 
No enemy near us. 

Tib. Dangers, that we see 
To threaten ruin, are with ease prevented ; 
But those strike deadly, that coTie unexpected : 
The lightning is far off, yet, soon as seen. 
We may behold the tenible effects 
That it produceth. But I'll help your knowledge, 



and carouse, liowev r, like vt/e and revye, are but the reci- 
procitioii ol llie s.iine action, and ninst tlieretore be derived 
tVoiu tlie same smiice. A roKse was a lart;e j;la-s (" not past 
a pint," as lago says) in uhicli a health ♦as t,iven,the drink- 
ing of which by tlie rest of the company formed a carouse. 
Bainaby Ricli is exceedingly angry witli the invenlor of this 
cns'oni, which, however, with a laiid.ihle zeal for the liouoiir 
of his coiuilry, he attributes lo an Englishman, who, it seems 
" had his brains beat out with a pottlepot" for his ingeniiit3'. 
" In t'urmer au;es," says lie, " they had 4ia conceit whereby 
lo (haw on driinkene-se," (Barnaby was no great historian,) 
" their best was, I drinke to you, and I pledge yon, till at 
lengih some >ludlow-vvitted drunkard found out the carouse, 
an invention oi ih^it worth and worthinesse as it is pitie the 
'ir.'t founder was not hinged, that we might have found out 
his name in Ihe antient lecord of the hangman's register." 
English Hue and Cry, 1617, p. 24. It is necessary to add, 
thu there cimid bi' no rouse or carouse, unless the glasses 
were einptii-d : " The leader," continues honest Barnahy, 
" sonpts lip hi- broiih, tnrnes the bottom of the cujipe up- 
ward, and in osteiit<»ion of his dexteritie, gives it a phjlip, 
to make it cry tynye'' ! id. 

In process of lime, both these words were used in a laxer 
sense; but I believe tliat what is here advanced, will serve 
to e\pl liii many passsages of our old dramatists, in which 
they occur in iluir primal and appropriate signification : 
" Nor. I've tH'en, since supper, 
A ro ise or two too much, and by the gods 
It wiriiis my blood." tCniyht of Malta 

This proves that Jolinson and Steevens are wrong : a rouge 
has here a fixed and determinate .sense. In the laneuage of 
the present day it would be, a bumper or two too much 
Again : 

" Duke. Come, bring some wine. Here's to my sister, 
gentlemen, 

A health, and mirth lo all ! 

" Archas. i'r:iy Jill if full, sir ; 

'Tis .1 high health to virtue. Here, lord Bnrris, 

A niaiilen health ! — 

" Oulie, Go to, no more of this. 

" Ar<-has. Take the rouse freely, sir, 

'Twill warm your blood, and make you tit for jolliiy." 

The Loyal Subject \ 



And make his cause of fear familiar to you. 

The wars so long continued between 

The emperor Charles, and Francis the French king. 

Have interess'd, in either's cause, the most 

Of the Italian princes*; atviong which, Sforza, 

As one of greatest power, was sought by both ; 

But with assurance, having one his iriend, 

The other lived his enemy. 

Steph. 'Tis true : 
And 'twas a doubtful choice. 

Tift. But he, well knowing. 
And hating too, it seems, the Spanish pride. 
Lent his assistance to the King of France : 
Which hath so far incensed the emperor. 
That all his hopes and honours are einbark'd 
With his great patron's fortune. 

Steph. Which stands fair, 
For auglit I yet can hear. 

Tib. But should it change. 
The duke's undone. Thev have drawn to the field 
Two royal armies, full of fiery youth ; 
Of equal sjiirit to dare, and power to do : 
So near intrench'd f, that 'tis beyond all hope 
of human counsel they can e'er be severed. 
Until it be determined by tlie sword, 
W'ho hath the better cause : for the success 
Concludes the victor innocent, and the vant|uish'd 
Most miserablv guilty. How uncertain 
The fortune of the war is, children know ; 
And, it being in suspense, on whose fair tent 
Wing'd Victory will make her glorious stand, ^ 
You cannot blame the duke, though he appear 
Perplex'd and troubled. 

Steph. But why, then, 
In such a time, when every knee should bend 
For the success and safety of bis person., 
Are these loud triumphs? in my weak opinion, 
Thev are unsnasonable. 

Tib. I judge so too ; 
But only in the cause to be excused. 
It is the dtitchess' birthday, once a year 
Solemnized with all pomp and ceremony ; 
In which the duke is not his own, but hers : 
Nay, every day, indeed, he is her creature. 
For never man so doated ; — but to tell 
The tenth part of liis fondness to a stranger, 
Would argue me of fiction. 

Steph. She's, indeed, 
A lady of most exquisite form. 

Tib. She knows it, 
And how to prize it. 



• Have interess'd in either's cause the most 
Of the Jtalian princes; ilc] So the old copies. The 
modern editors, much to tlie advantage of the rhythm, read. 

" Have interested in either's cause, the most, &c." 
Probably they were ignorant of the existence of such a word 
■A- interess, which occurs, however, pretty freqnentlj in our 
old writers. Johnson considers it as synonymous with i»<i?r- 
est, but in some of the examples which he give.«, and in 
many others which I could produce, it seems to convey an idea 
of a more intimate connexion ihan is usually understood by 
that term; somewhat, for iiistaftce, like implicate, involve, 
in wtMve, &c. in which case, it mast be derived from intreccio, 
through llie medium of the French. (As, one example for all, 
I ma> refer the reader toBenJonson'sSej anus. Act III.ec.I. 
" Tib. Bv the Capitoll 
And all our Gods, but that the deare Ropublick 
Our sacrerl lawes, and just authorilie 
Are intercssed therein, I should bijsilent."— Ed ) 
+ So near intrench'd. &c ] Th ■ French arm.v was at this 
lime cng.iged in the sie-^e of l'avia,nmlei the wills of which 
the decisive battle was f.iught, on ihe •24th of Febrnaty, 1525 



64 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[Act I. 



Steph. I ne'er heard lier tainted 
'n any point of honour. ^ 

Tib. On my life, 
She's constant to liis hed.and well deserves 
His larsjpst favours. But, ^\ hen heauty is 
Stamp'd on oreat woTnen, g^reat in birth and fortune, 
And blown by fl;itterers greater than it is, 
Tis seldom unaccompanied with pride ; 
iflor is she that way free : presuming on 
The duke's affection, and her own desert. 
She bears herself with such a majesty, 
Looking: with scorn on all as tbinsjs beneath her. 
That Sforza's mother, that would lose no part 
Of "h.it was once her own, nor his fair sister 
A lady too acquainted with her worth. 
Will brook it well ; and howsoe'er their hate 
Ls smother'd for a time, 'tis more than fear'd 
It will at length break out. 

Sieph. He in whose power it is, 
Turn all to the best ! 

Tib. Come, let us to the court ; 
We there shall see all bravery and cost. 
That art can boast of. 

Steph. rU bear you company. [Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — Another Boom in the same. 
Enter Francisco, Isabella, and Mariana. 

Mart. I will not go ; I scorn to be a spot 
In her proud train. 

hub. Shall I, that am his mother, 
Be so indulgent, as to wait on her 
That owes me duty 1 

Fran. 'Tis done to the duke, 
And n /t to her : and. my sweet wife, remember. 
And, madam, if you please, receive my counsel, 
As Sforza is your son, you may command him ; 
And, as a sister, you may challenge from him 
A brother's love and favour: but, this granted. 
Consider he's the prince, and you his subjects. 
And not to question or contend with her 
Whom he is pleased to honour. Private men 
Prefer their wives ; and shall he, being a prince, 
And blest with one that is the paradise 
Of sweetness, and of beauty, to whose charge 
The stock of women's goodness is given up, 
Not use her like herself? 

Isab. You are ever forward 
To sing her praises. 

Mari. Others are as fair ; 
I am sure, as noble. 

Fran. I detract from none. 
In giving her what's due. Were she deform 'd. 
Yet being the dutchess, I stand bound to serve her ; 
But, as she is, to admire her. Never wife 
Met with a purer heat her husband's fervour ; 
A happy pair, one in the other blest ! 
She confident in herself he's wholly her's. 
And cannot seek for change ; and he secure 
That 'tis not in the power of man to tempt her. 
And therefore to contest with her, that is 
The stronger and the better part of him, 
Is more than folly : you know him of a nature 
Not to be play'd with ; and, should you forget 
To obey him as vour prince, he'll not remember 
The duty that he owes you. 

liah. 'Tis but truth : 
Come, clear our brows, and let us to the banquet ; 
But not to serve his idol. 



M«-e. I sliall do 
What may become the sister of a prince ; 
But will not stoop beneath it. 

Fran. Yet, be wise ; 
Soar not too high to fall ; but stoop to rise. 



[ Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— ^ State Room in the same. 
Enter three Gentlemen, setting forth a banquet. 

1 Gent. Quick, quick, for love's sake 1 let tli9 
court put on 

Her choicest outside : cost and bravery 
Be only thought of. 

2 Gent. All that may be had 

To please the eye, the ear, taste, touch, or smell, 
Are carefully provided. 

3 Gent. There's a mask : 

Have you heard what's the invention ? 

1 Gent. No matter : 
It is intended for the du'chess' honour ; 
And if it give her glorious attributes, 
As the most fair, most virtuous, and the rest, 
'Jwill please the duke. They come. 

3 Gent. All is in order. 

Enter Tiberio, Stephano, Francisco, Sforz_«, 
]\Iarcelia, Isabella, jMariana, and Attendants. 
Sfor. You are the mistress of the feast — sit here, 
O my soul's comfort ! and when Sforza hows 
Thus low to do you honour, let none think 
'I'he meanest service they can pay my love, 
But as a fair addition to those titles 
Tliey stand possest of. Let me glory in 
My happiness, and mighty kings look pale 
With envy, while 1 triumph in mine own. 
O mother, look on her ! sister, admire her ! 
And, since this present age yields not a woman 
Worthy to be her second, borrow of 
Times past, and let imagination help, 
Of those canonized ladies Sparta boasts of. 
And, in her greatness, Rome was proud to owe, 
To fashion one ; yet still you must confess. 
The phoenix of perfection ne'er was seen, 
But in my fair Marcelia. 

Fran. She's, indeed. 
The wonder of all times. 
Tib. Your excellence, 
Though I confess, you give her but her own, 
Forces * her modesty to the defence 
Of a sweet blush. 

Sfnr. It need not, my Marcelia ; 
When most I strive to praise thee, I appear 
A poor detractor : for thou art, indeed. 
So absolute f in body and in mind. 
That, but to speak the least part to the height, 
Would ask an angel's tongue, and yet then end 
In silent admiration ! 

Isab. You still court her. 
As if she were a mistress, not your wife. 

SJor. A mistress, mother ! She is more to me. 
And every day deserves more to be sued to. 



• Forces her modesty] So the edition 1623, which Coxcte 
docs not appear to have often consiiltfd. He reads, alter that 
of 163S, enforces, though it destroys the metre. Mr. M. 
Mason, of course, fdUows him. 

t .So absohite in body and in mitid,] For ihis ppiriled 
reading, wliich is lliat of the first edition, the second has, .S» 
perlect bolli in body and in mind, and thus it stands in 
Coxeter and M. Mason I 



Scene III.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



63 



Such as are cloy'd vrith those they have embraced, 

Mav think their wooing done : no niglit to me 

But is a bridal one, where Hymen lights 

His torches fresh and new ; and those delights, 

Wliicli are not to be clothed in airy sounds, 

Enjov'd, beget desires as full of heat 

And jovial fervour, as when first I tasted 

Her virgin fruit. — Blest night ! and be it number'd 

Ainonust tliose happy ones, in which a blessing 

Was, bv the full consent of all tlie stars, 

Conferr'd upon mankind. 

Marc. lAIv worthiest lord! 
The onlv object I behold with pleasure, — 
J\Iy pride, my glory, in a word, my all ! 
Bear ivitness, heaven, that I esteem myself 
In nothing worthy of the meanest praise 
You cnii bestow, unless it bo in this. 
That in my heart I love and honour you. 
And, but that it would smell of arrogance, 
To speak my. strong desire and zeal to serve you, 
I til en could say, these eyes yet never saw 
The rising sun, but tliat my vows and prayers 
Were sent to lieaven for the prosperity 
And safety of my lord : nor have I ever 
Had other study, hut how to ajipear 
Worth V your favour ; and that my embraces 
Might yield a fruitful harvest of content 
For all your noble travail, in the purchase 
Of her that's still your sei'vant ; by these lips. 
Which, pardon me, that 1 presume to kiss 

Sfiir. O swear, for ever swear * ! ' 

M<irc. I ne'er will seek 
Delight liut in your pleasure ; and desire, 
Wlien you are sated with all earthly glories. 
And aj'e and honours make you fit for heaven, 
Tliat one grave may receive us. 

SJor. 'Tis believed. 
Believed, my blest one. 

Md'-i. How she winds herself 
Into his soul ! 

Sj'nr. Sit all. — Let others feed 
On shore gross cates, while Sforza banquets with 
Immor'ul viands ta'en in at his eyes. 
I could live ever thus. Command the eunuch 
To sing the ditty that I last composed, 

Enter a Courier. 

In jiraise of my Marcelia. From whence ? 

Cour. From Pavia, my dread lord. 

Sfor. Speak, is all lost ? 

Cour. [^Delivers a letter.l The letter will inform 
you. lExit. 

Fran. How his liand shakes. 
As he receives it ! 

Mart. 1 his is some allay 
To his hot passion. 

Sj'or. I'hough it bring death, I'll read it • 

Mail It please your excellence to laiderstand, that the 
very hour I ivrote this, I heard a bold dcjinnce delivered 
by a herald Jrom the emperor, v.hich uas cheerfullii 
received by the King of France. The battailes being 
ready to join, and the vanguard committed to my charge, 
enforces me to end ah'-upibi. 

Your highncss's humble servant, 

Gaspero. 



• Sfor. () swear, /iir ever swear .'] This is the lection of 
the fust quarto; !he s<t(>u<I poorly reail.«, O sweet, for ever 
twear I and U followed by Coxeter ami M. Masou. 



Ready tojoin ! — iiy this, then, I am nothing. 
Or my estate secure. 
H Marc. My lord. 

SJ'or. To doubt. 
Is worse than to have lost ; and to despair, 
Is but to antedate those miseries 
That must fall on us ; all my hopes depending 
Upon this battle's fortune. In my soul, 
Methinks, there should be that imperious power. 
By supernatural, not usual means, 
T' inform me what I am. The cause consider'd, 
Why should I fear ? The French are bold and strong' 
Their numbers full, and in their councils wise ; 
But then, the haughty Spaniard is all fire. 
Hot in his executions ; fortunate 
In his attempts ; married to victory : — 
Ay, there it is that shakes me. 

Fran. Excellent lady 
This day was dedicated to your honour ; 
One gale of your sweet breath will easily [none 

Disperse 'these clouds ; and, but yourself, there's 
That dare speak to him. 

Marc. I will run the hazard. 
My lord ! 

Sfor. Ha I — pardon me, Marcelia, I am troubled j 
And stand uncertain, whether I am master 
Of aught that's worth the owning. 

Marc. I am yours, sir ; \ 

And I have heard you swear, I being safe, 
There was no loss could move you. This day, sir. 
Is by your gift made mine. Can you revoke 
A grant made to Marcelia ? your ftjarcelia ? — 
For whose love, nay, whose honour, gentle sir, 
AH deep designs, and state-aflfairsdeferr'd, 
Be, as you purposed, merry. 

Sfor. Out of my sight! [Throws away the letter 
And all thoughts that may strangle mirth forsake me. 
Fall what can fall, I'dare the worst of fate : 
Though the foundation of the earth should shrink 
The glorious eye of heaven lose his splendour. 
Supported thus. Til stand upon the ruins. 
And .seek for new life here. Why are you sad ■• 
No other sports ! by heaven, he's not ray friend, 
'J'hat wears one furrow in his face. 1 was told 
There vvas a mask. 

Fran. I hey wait your highness' pleasure. 
And when you please to have it. 

Sfor. Bid them enter : 
Come, make me happy once again. I am rapt— 
'Tis not to day, to m)rrow, or the next. 
But all my days, and years shall be employ'd 
To do thee honor. 

Marc. And my life to serve you. 

[A horn sounded. 

Sfor. Another post I Go hang hmi, hang him, I 
say : 
I will not interrupt my present pleasures. 
Although his mt-ssage should import my head : 
Hang him, I say. 

Marc. Nay, good sir, I am ple.ised 
To grant a little intermission to you ; 
Who knows but he brings news we wish to hear, 
To heighten our delights. 

Sfor. As wise as fair ! 

Enter another Courier. 
From GasDero ? 

Cour. That was, my lord. 

Sfor. How ! dead 1 

Cour. [Delivers a letter.] With the delivery of 
this, and prayers, 



66 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[An I 



To ofuan! your excellency from certain dang-ers, 
He ceased to be a man . [Eait. 

Sfor. All tliat mv fears W 

Could fashion to me, or my enemies wish, 
Is fallen upon me. Silence tlint harsh music ; 
'Tis now unseasonable : a toUino^ bell, 
As a sad harbinger to tell me, that 
This paraperM lump of fiesh must feast the worms, 
Is fitter for me : — I am sick. 

Marc. My lord ! 

Sfor. Sick to the death *, ]Marcelia. Remove 
These signs of mirth ; they were ominous, and 

but usher'd 
Sorrow and ruin. 

Marc. Bless us, heaven ! 

hah. Mv son. 

Marc. What sudden change is this? 

Sfor. All leave tlie room ; 
I'll bear alone the burden of my grief, 
And must admit no partner. I am yet • 
Your prince, where's your obedience ? Stay, 

iMarcelia ; 
I cannot be so greedv of a sorrow. 
In which you must not share. 

Exeunt TiberiOfStephano, Francisco, Isabella, Mariana, 
and Attendants. 

Marc. And cheerfully 
I will sustain my part. Why look you pale? 
Where is that wonted constancy, and courage. 
That dared the worst of fortune ? where is Sforza, 
To whom all dangers, that fright common men, 
Appear'd but panic terrors? why do you eye me 
With such fix'd looks? love, counsel, duty, service, 
May flow from me, not danger. 

Sfor. O, Marcelia ! 
It is for thee 1 fear ; for thee, thy Sforza 
Shakes like a coward ; for myself, unmoved 
I could have heard my troops were cut in pieces, 
My general slain, and he, on whom my hopes 
Of rule, of state, of life, had their dependence. 
The King of France, my greatest friend, made pri- 
soner 
To so ])roud enemies f. 

Marc. Then you have just cause 
To shew }-ou are a man. 

Slor. All this were nothing, 
Though I add to it, that I am assured, 
For giving aid to this unfortunate king. 
The emperor, incens'd, lays his command 
On his victorious army, flesh 'd with spoil. 
And bold of conquest, to march up against me. 
And seize on my estates : supnose tliat done too, 
The city ta'en, the kennels running blood, 
The ransack'd temples foiling on their saints ; 
My mother, in my sight, toss'd on their pikes, 
And sister ravish'd ; and myself bound fast 
La chains, to grace their triumph ; or what else 



• Sick to the death.] The modern editors omit the article, 
no less to the injury of the metre than ut' thel.inguage of the 
poet, whicli was, indeed, th it of the lime. 

t There is a stiikliit; similaiily (as Mr. Gilchrist observes 
to me) between this passage, and the parting S|ieech of 
Hector and Andromache: 

AXX' 8 ;Uoi Tpioiov Toarrov fxeXii aXyog ottictitw, 
OvT avTiiQ 'FjKa€ijc, «-£ ITpiajUoto avaK-og 
Ov-t Katnyvr]rojv, vi kev TroXtiQ rt teat Ecr.&Xoi 
Ri' Kovirjat Trtiroiev inr' avcpaci Cvaixtvinrnv, 
Oaaov ffei, k. r. a, II. vi, 450. 



An enemy's insolence could load me with, 

1 would be Sforza still, lint, when 1 think 

That my iMarcelia, to whom all thrse 

Are but as atoms to the greatest hill, 

]\Iust suffer in my cause, and for me suflfer ! 

All earthly torments, iiav, even those the damn'd 

Howl for in hell, are gentle strokes, compared 

To what I feel, Marcelia. 

Marc. Good sir, have palience : 
I can as well partake your adverse fortune, 
As I thus long have bad an ample sliare . 
In your prosperity. 'Tis not in the power 
Of fate to alter me : for while I am. 
In spite of it, I'm yours. 

Sfor. iJut should that will 
To be so, be forced*, IMarcelia ; and I live 
To see those eyes I prize above my own, 
Dart f-ivntirs, though compell'd, upon another; 
Or those sweet lips, yielding immortal nectar. 
Be gently touch'd by any but myself; 
'Jhink, think, Marcelia, what a cursed thing 
I were, beyond expression ! 

Marc. Do not feed 
Those jealous thoughts; the only blessing that 
Heaven hath bestow'd on us, more tlian on beasts, 
Is, that 'tis in our i)leasure when to die. 
i Besides, \^here I now in another's power, 
j There are so many ways to let out life, 
I would not live, for one short minute, ])is ; 
J was born only yours, and I will die so. 

Sfor. Angils reward the goodness of this woman' 
Enter Francisco. 

All I can pay is nothing.^Why, uncall'd for? 

Fran. It is of weight, sir, that makes me thus 
press 
Upon your privacies. Your constant friend. 
The marquis of Pescara, tired with haste, 
Hath business that concerns your life and fortunes. 
And with speed, to impart. 

Sfor. Wait on him liither : [^Exit Fvanciico 

And, dearest, to thy closet. Let thy prayers 
Assist my councils. 

Marc. To S[)are imprecations 
Against myself, without you I am nothing. [Ejat. 

Sfor. 'Jhe marcjuis of Pescara! a great soldierf ; 
And, though he serv'd upon the adverse party, 
Ever my constant IViend. 

Enter Francisco and Pescara, 

Fran. Yonder he walks. 
Full of sad thoughts, 

Pesc. Blame him not, good Francisco, 
He hath much cause to grieve ; would I D.ight 

end so, 
And not r'dd this, — to fear. 

Sfor. My dear Pescara ; 
A miracle in these times ! a friend, and happy. 
Cleaves to a falling fortune ! 

* But should that will 

To be so. bv forced ] I have venti red to insert he, which 
was prot).il)lv didpt at liie press, bctoie forced. (In ilie Edit, 
of 1813, Mr' Gittord heins; diffident of ihe cmrcctiuss of his 
emendation, lias sn|iplieil the place of the inserted he, by 
spaces, thus - - -. 1 h^ve liowcver retained hi- orii;inal 
correction, which I think superior to the siibse(|iieiit one, 
.ilthongh nnjiecessary to the rhythm and perhaps rendering the 
verse rather liarsh. — F.ii.) 

T Sfor. The marquis of Pescara'. a great soldier ;] Thn 
duke does not eva^uenile tlie merits of I'escara : he was, ib- 
deed, a (jteat soldier, a fortiiiMte comiiaiider, an able .ifc^o- 
ciator, in a word, one of the greatest ornuiienls of a peril 1 
wliich abounded in e.\liaordiiiary characters. 



Scene III.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



67 



Peso. If it were 
As well in my weak power, in act, to raise it, 
As 'tis to bear a part of sorrow with you, 
You tlien should have just cause to say, Pescara 
Look'd not upon your state, hut on your virtues, 
When he made suit to be writ in the list 

Of those vou favour'd. But my haste forbids 

All compl'imeut ; thus, then sir, to the purpose : 
The cause that, unattended, brought me hither, 
Was not to tell you of your loss, or danger; 
For fame hath many wings to bring ill tidings, 
And I presume you've heard it ; but to give you 
Such friendly counsel, as, perhaps, may make 
Your sad disaster less. 

Sfor. Your are all goodness : 
And I give U]i myself to be disposed of, 
As in your wisdom you think fit. 

Pesc. Thus, then, sir : 
To hope you can hold out against the emperor. 
Were flattery in yourself*, to your undoing: 
'I'herefi^re, the safest course that you can take, 
Is, to give up yourself to his discretion, 
Before you be compell'd ; for, rest assured, 
A voluntary yielding may find grace, 
And will admit defence, at least excuse : 
But, should you linger doubtful, till his powers 
Have seized your ])erson and estates perforce, 
You must ex]iect extremes. 

Sj'or. I understand you ; 
And I will put your counsel into act, 
And speedily. I only will take order 
For some domestical affairs, that do 
Concern me nearly, and with the next sun 
Ride with you : in the mean time, my best friend. 
Pray take your rest. 

Prec. Indeed, 1 have travell'd hard ; 
And will embrace your counsel. [Exit. 

SJhr. With all care, 
Attend my noble friend. Stay you, Francisco. 
You see how things stand with mo 1 

Fran. To mv grief: 
And if the loss of my poor life could be 
A sacrifice to restore them as they were, 
1 willingly would lay it down. 

Sfor. 1 think so ; ' 
For I have ever found you true and tliankful. 
Which makes me love the building I have raised 
In your advancement ; and repent no grace 
I have conferrd upon you. And, believe me, 
Though now I should repeat my favours to you, 
The titles I have given \ou, and the means 
Suitable to your honours ; that I thought you 
Worthy ni^' sister and my family. 
And in my dukedom made you next myself j 
It is not to upbraid you ; but to tell you 
I find you are worthy of them, in your love 
And service to me. 

Fran. .'Sir, 1 am your creature ; 
And any shape, that you would have me wear, 
I gladly will put on. 

Sfor. Thus, then, Francisco : ' 

I now am to deliver to your trust 
A weighty secret ; of so strange a nature. 
And 'twill, I know, appear so monstrous to you, 
That }''ou will tremble in the execution, 
As much as 1 am tortured to command it : 



• Were flattery in yourself,] So, both the quartos; the 
modern editors read, iVere tlattering yourself. 



For 'tis a deed so liorrid, that, but to hear it, 
Would ."itrike into a ruffian flesh'd in murders. 
Or an obdurate hangman, soft compassion ; 
And vet, Francisco, of all men the dearest. 
And from me most deserving, such my state 
And strange condition is, that thou alone 
Must know the fatal service, and perform it. 

Fran. These preparations, sir, to work a stranger, 
Or to one unacquainted with your bounties, 
Might appear useful ; but to me they are 
Needless impertinencies : for I dare do 
Whate'er you dare command. 

Sfor. But you must swear it ; 
And put into the oath all joys or torments 
That fright the wicked, or confirm the good ; 
Not to conceal it only, that is nothing. 
But, whensoe'er my will shall speak. Strike now ! 
To f;iU upon't like thunder. 

Fran. Minister 
The oath in any way or form you please, 
I stand resolved to take it. 

Sj'ar. Thou must do, then, 
What no malevolent star will dare to look on. 
It is so wicked : for which men will curse thee 
For being the instrument ; and the blest angels 
Forsake me at my need, for being the author : 
For 'tis a deed of night, of night, Francisco ! 
In which the memory of all good actions 
We can pretend to, shall be buried quick : 
Or, if we be remember'd, it shall be 
To fright posterity by our example, 
That have outgone all precedents of villains 
That were before us ; and such as succeed, 
Though taught in hell's black school, shall ne'er 
Art thou not shaken yet ? [come near us. 

Fran. I grant )'ou move me : 

But to a man confirm'd 

Sfm: I'll try your temper : 
What think you of my wife 1 
■ Fran. As a thing sacred ; 
To whose fair name and memory I pay gladly 
These signs of duty. 

Sfor. is she not the abstract 
Of all that's rare, or to he wish'd in woman? 

Fran. It were a kind of blasphemy to dispute it-- 
But to the purpose, sir. 

Sj'or. Add too, her goodness. 
Her tenderness of me, her care to please me, 
Her unsuspected chastity, ne'er eqnall'd ; 
Her innocence, her honour ; — 0, I am lost 
In the ocean of her virtues and her graces. 

When I think of them ! 
Fran. Now I find the end 

Of all your conjurations ; there's some service 

To be done for this sweet lady. If she have enemies 

That she would have removed 

SJor, Alas ! Francisco, 

Her greatest enemy is her greatest lover ; 

Yet, in that hatred, her idolater.' 

One .smile of her's would make a savage tame ; 

One accent of that tongue would calm the seas. 

Though all the winds at once strove there h» 
empire. 

Yet I, for whom she thinks all this too little. 

Should I miscarry in this present journey, 

From whence it is all number to -a cipher, 

I ne'er return with honour, by thy band 

Must have her murder'd. 

Frari. Murder'd '. — She that loves so, 

And so deserves to be beloved agam ! 



6? 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[ActH |i 

"I 



And I, who sometimes you were pleased to favour, 
Pick'd out the intrument! 

Sfor. Do not fly off: 
What is decreed can never be recall'd ; 
'Tis more than love to her, tliat marks her out 
A wisli'd companion to me in both fortunes : 
And strong- assurance oi" thy zealous faitli, 
That gives up to thy trust a secret, tliat- 
Racks should not have forced from me. O, Francisco ! 
There is no heaven without her ; nor a hell, 
Where she resides. I ask from her but justice, 
And what I would have paid to her, had sickness, 
Or anv other accident, divorced 
Her purer soul from her unspotted body*. 
The slavish Indian princes, when they die, 
Are cheerfully attended to the fire. 
By the wife and slave that, livini;-, ihey loved best, 
To do them service in another world : 
Nor will 1 be less honour'd, that love more. 
And therefore trifle not, but in thy looks 



Express a ready purpose to perform 
What I command; or, by Marcelia's soul, 
This is thy latest minute. 

Fran. 'Tis not fear 
Of death, but love to you, makes me embrace it : 
But for mine own security, when 'tis done. 
What warrant have I ? If you please to sign one, 
I shall, though with unwillingness and horror. 
Perform your dreadful charge. 

SJ'or. I will, Francisco : 
But still remember, that a prince's secrets 
Are balm, conceal'd ; but poison, if discover'd, 
I may come back ; then this is but a trial 
I o purchase thee, if it were possible, 
A nearer place in my affection : — but 
I know thee lionest. 

Fran. 'Tis a character 
I will not part with. 

Sj'irr. I may live to reward it*. [Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. — The same. An open Space before the 
Castle. 

Enter Tiberio and Stepii.^no. 

Steph. How, left the court ! 

Tib. Without guard or retinue 
Fitting a prince. 

Sleph. No enemy near, to force him 
'I'o leave his own strengths, yet deliver up 
Himself, as 'twere, in bonds, to the discretion 
Of him that hates liira 1 'tis beyond example. 
You never heard the motives that induced him 
To this strange course? 

Tib. No, those are cabinet councils, 
And not to be communicated, but 
To such as are his own, and sure. Alas! 
We fill up empty places, and in public 
Are taught to give our suffrages to that 
Which was before determined ; and are safe so. 
Signior Francisco (upon whom alone 
His absolute power is with all strength conferr'd, 
During- his absence) can with ease resolve 3'ou : 
To me thev are riddles. 

Steph, Well, he shall not be 
My (Edipus ; I'll rather dwell in darkness. 
But, my good lord Tiberio, this Francisco 
Is, on the sudden, strangely raised. 

Tib. sir 
He took the tnriving course : he had a sisterf, 
A fair one too, with whom, as it is rumour'd, 
The duke was too familiar ; but she, cast ofl" 
(What promises soever past between them) 



• Her p\\ri;T soul from her unspotted body.] /"wrerisnsed 
in perfect coiuurrtnce with ilie practice of Massiiigur's con- 
temporaries, for pure, the com pal alive for the positive. See 
the Unnatural Combat. 

t He had a s'ster, &c.] There is great art in this 

introdnction of tlie sister. In the maiiageiiu iit of tliese pre- 

faratory hints, Massins^er surpasses all his ronteniporaries. 
n Bcanniont iincl Fletcher, " ihe end soiiiLtunes forj^ets the 
beginning ;" ami even Shakspeare is not entirely frie from 
inattentions of a similar nature. I will not here pr.iise the 
general feliciiy of our author's plots; but whatever they 
were, he seems to have minutely ai ranged all the component 
p«t't8 before a line of the diatouuc was written. 



Upon the sight of thisf, forsook the court, 
And since was never seen. To smother this, 
As honours never fail to purchase silence, 
Francisco first was graced, and, step by step, 
Is raised up to this height. 

Steph. But how is 
His absence born ? 

Tib. Sadly, it seems, by the dutchess ; 
For since he left the court. 

For the most part she hath kept her private chamber, 
No visitants admitted. In the church. 
She hath been seen to pay her pure devotions 
Season'd with tears ; and sure her sorrow's true, 
Or deeplv counterfeited ; pomp, and state, 
And bravery cast of : and she, that lately 
Rivall'd Foppaja in her varied shapes. 
Or the Egyptian queen, now, widow-like, 
In sable colours, as her husband's dangers 
Strangled in her the use of any 'pleasure, 
.Mourns for his absence. 

Steph. It becomes her virtue, 
And does confirm what was reported of her. 

Tib. You take it right : but, un the oth>;r side. 
The darling- of his mother, Mariana, 
As there were an antipathy between 
Her and the dutchess' passions ; and as 
She'd no dependence on her brother's forture. 
She ne'er a[)pear'd so full of mirth. 

Steph. 'lis sirange. 

Enter Gracciio icith Fiddlers. 

But see ! her favourite, and accompanied. 
To your report. 

Grac. \ ou shall scrape, and I will sing 
A scurvy ftitty to a scurvy tune. 
Repine who dares. 



♦ The observations in the Essay prefixed to this Volume, 
preclude the necessity uf any remarks from me, on this ad- 
loirable scene : as it seems, however, to have eiii;ro»^ed the 
critic s attention, (to the manliest noj^lect of the re>i,; let me 
Migg. SI, in justice to the author, thai il is equalled, if not 
surpassed, by some cf the sncccediiig ones, and. among the 
reM, by that which concludes the second act. 

t fJpon tlie siylU of this, &c.J i. e. of the present riutcbes*. 
M. M&soN. 



Scene I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



69 



1 Fid. But, if we should offend, 
The dutcliess Iiaving silenced us; — and these lords 
Stand by to hear us. 

Grac. They in name are lords, 
But I am one in power : and, for the dutchess, 
But yesterday we were merry for her pleasure. 
We now'll be for my lady's. 

Tib. Signior Graccho. 
■ Grac. A poor man, sir, a servant to the princess ; 
But you, great lords* and counsellors of state, 
Whom I stand bound to reverence. 

Tib. Come ; we know 
You are a man in grace. 

Grac. Fie ! no : I grant, 
I bear my fortunes patiently ; serve the princess. 
And have access at all times to iier closet, 
Such is my impudence ! when your grave lordships 
Are masters of the modesty to attend 
Three hours, nay sometimes four ; and then bid 
Upon Iter the next morning. [wait 

Steph. He derides us. 

Tib. Pray you, wliat news is stirring? you know 
Grac. Who, If alas! I've no intelligence [all. 
At home nor abroad ; I only sometimes guess 
The change of the times : 1 should ask of your lord- 
ships 
Who are to keep their honours, who to lose them : 
Who the dutchess smiled on last, or on whom frown'd, 
You only can resolve me ; we poor waiters 
Deal, as you see, in mirth, and foolfsh fiddles : 
It is our element 1 and — could you tell me 
What point of state 'tis that I am commanded 
To muster up this music, on mine honesty, 
You should much befriend me. 
Steph. Sirrah, you grow saucy. 
Tib. And would be laid by the heels. 
Grac. Not by your lordships. 
Without a special warrant ; look to }^our own stakes j 
Were I committed, here come those would bail me: 
Perhaps, we might change places too. 

Eriter Isabella, and Mariana. 

Tib. The princess ! 
We must be patient. 

Steph. 'I'here is no contending. 

Tib. See, the informing rogue ! 

Steph. That we should stoop 
To such a mushroom ! 

Mari. Thou dost mistake ; they durst not 
Use the least word of scorn, although provoked, 
To any thing of mine. Go, get you home, 
And to your serva;its, friends, and flatterers number 
How many descents you're noble : — look to your 

wives too : 
The smooth-cliinii'd courtiers are abroad. 

Tib. No way to be a freeman ! 

Exeunt Tiherio and Stephaiio. 

Grac. Your excellence hath the best gift to dispatch 
These arras ])ictures of nobility, 
I ever read of. 

Mari. I can speak sometimes. 

Grac. And cover so your bitter pills, with sweet- 
Of princely language to forbid reply, [ness, 

They are greedily swallowed. 

hah. But to the purpose, daughter. 
That brings us hither. Is it to bestow 



• But you, great lords, Ac] So llie old copies. Mr. M. 
Mason chooses lo deviate from them, and read But you are 
great lords, &c. Ntver whs al'tralino nu re unnecessaiy. 

8 



A visit on this woman, that, because 
She only would be thought truly to grieve 
'1 he absence and the dangers of my son, 
Proclaims a general sadness ? 

Mari. If to vex her 
May he interpreted to do her honour, 
She shall have many of them. I'll make use 
Of my short reign : my lord now governs all ; 
And she shall know that her idolater, 
IMy brother, being not by now to protect her, 
1 am her equal. 

Grac. Ofa little thing, 
It is so full of gall* ! A devil of this size, 
Should they run for a wager to be spiteful. 
Gets not a horse-head of her. [Asidt 

Mari. On her birthday, 
We were forced to be merry, and now she's musty, 
AVe must be sad, on pain of her displeasure : 
We will, we will ! ibis is her private chamber, 
Where, like an hypocrite, not a true turtle, 
She seems to mourn her absent mate ; her servants 
Attending her like mutes : but I'll speak to her 
And in a high key too. Play any thing 
That's light and loud enough but to torment her. 
And we will have rare sport. [Mimic and a S(mg\. 

Marcelia appears at a Window above, in black. 

Isuh. She frowns as if 
Her looks could fright us. 

Mini. May it please your greatness. 
We heard that your late physic hath not work'd; 
And that breeds melancholy, as your doctor tells us 
lo inirge which, we, that are born your highnes* 

vassals. 
And are to play the fool to do you service. 
Present you with a lit of mirth. What think yot. 
Of a new antic ? 

hah. 'T would show rare in ladies. 

Mari. Being intended for so sweet a creaturft 
Were she but pleased to grace it. 

Jsab. Fie ! she will. 
Be it ne'er so mean ; she's made of courtes)-. 

Mari. 'I'he mistress of all hearts. One smile, I 
firay you, 
On your poor servants, or a fiddler's fee ; 
Coming from those fair hands, though but a ducat, 
We will inshrine it as a holy relic. 

Isah. 'Tis wormwood, and it works. 

Marc. If I lay by 
]\Iy fears and griefs, in which you should be sharers. 
If doling age could let you but remember, 
You have a son ; or frontless impudence, 
You are a sister ; and in making answer, 



• Grac. Ofa litllc thing. 

It is so full of yall \] Nothing more strongly marks the 
poi eriy of the .'lage in tliose times, than the frequent allusions 
we rind to ihe si/c of the actors, which may lie coiisiderec 
as a kind of apiilot:y to_the audience. It is not possible to 
ascertain who played the part of Mariana, bnt it was, not 
improbahlj, Theophilus Bourne, who acted Paulina m the 
Fenyado, where an expression of the same nature occurs. 
Donuldla, in the Boman jlctor, is also little ; she was played 
by John Hunnieman. I do not condemn these indirect apo- 
logies ; indeed, there appears to be soineihirg of ^ood sense 
in them, and of proper deierence to the Hndersiandini;» of the 
audience. At present, we run intrepidly into every species 
of absurdity, men and uomen unwieldly at once Ironi age 
and fatness, take upon thenithe parts of active bujs and girls; 
and it is not only in a pamoniinie that we are accustomed 
to see children of six leet high in lea>ling sirirjgs ! 

+ A Sony] This, like many otheis, does not appear; it was 
pribabiy sufpliel at pleasure, by the actors 



to 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



(Act n. 



To what was most unfit for you to speak, 
Or me to liear, borrow of my just anger 

Isah. A set speech, on my life. 

Mari. Penn'd by her chaplain. [speak, 

Marc, i'es, it* can speak, without instruction 
And tell your want of manners, that you are rude, 
And saucily rude, too. 

Grac. Now the game begins. 

Marc. You durst not, else, on any hire or hope, 
Remembering what I am, and whose I am. 
Put on the desperate boldness, to disturb 
The least of my retirements. 

Mari. Note her, now. [presume 

Marc. For both shall understand, though the one 
Upon the privilege due to a mother, 
The duke stands now on his own legs, and needs 
No nurse to lead him. 

Isab. Mow, a nurse ! 

Marc. A dry one. 
And useless too : — but I am merciful, 
And dotage signs your pardon. 

Isab. I defy thee ; 
Thee, and thy pardons, proud one. 

Marc. For you, puppet 

Mari. VVhatof me, pine-treef ! 

Marc. Little you are, 1 grant, 
And have as little worth, but much less wit ; 
You durst not else, the duke being wholly mine, 
His power and honour mine, and the allegiance, 
You owe him, as a subject, due to me 

Mari. To you ? 

Marc. To me : and therefore, as a vassal. 
From tliis hour lear^ to serve me, or you'll fee. 
I must make use of my authority, 
And, as a princess, punish it. 

hah. A princess ! 

Mari. I had rather be a slave uuto • Moor, 
ITian know thee for my eciual. 

Isah. Scornful thing! 
Proud of a white face. 

Mari. Let her but remember^ 
The issue in her leg. 

Isab. The charge she puts 
The state to, for perfumes. 

Mari. And howsoe'er 
She seems when she's made up, as she's herself. 
She stinks above the ground. O that I could reach 
The little one vou scorn so, with her nails [you ! 



• Miirc. Yes, it can speak,] So the old copies : the modern 
ddions, Yes, I can speak I 

♦ Marc. For you, puppet 

Mari. IVhat of me, -pine tree ?] 

" Now I perceive tliat she hath made compare 

Between our statures" 

Puppet anii maypole, and many other terms of equal elegance 
•are bandied alioiit between Hennia and Helena, in Mid- 
tutnmer- Night's Dream, whicli is ht-re too closely imitated. 
I Jortiear to quote tlie passages, which are familiar to every 
reader of Shalopcare. 

X Mari. Let her but remember, &.<:.] For this, Massinger 
is indebted to less respectable authority, to the treacherous 
loquacity of the dmchess's waiting woman, in lier midniijlit 
conference with Don Quixote. These traits, however dis- 
{ustinv, are not without their value; they sironc;ly mark the 
prevailine; features of the times, wliich are univernally coar.se 
jnd in.lehcate : they cxliibit also a circumstance worthy of 
partic'd.ir notice, namely, that those vigorous powers of genius 
which carry men far beyond the literary state of their age, 
<Jo not en.ible tliem to outgo that of its manners. This must 
«ervc as an apology for our author; indeed, ii ii the only 
•oe that can be otlercd tor many who stand higher in the 
*miiks of fame than Massiuger, and who have still more need 
..Tit. 



Would tear your painted face, and scratch ttios* 
Do but come'down. [eyes out 

Marc. Were there no other way, 
But leaping on thv neck, to break mine own. 
Rather than be outbraved thus. [She retirei. 

Grac. Forty ducats 
Upon the little h-n : she's of the kind. 
And will not leave the pit. [.'lsiVi«. 

Mari. That it were lawful 
To meet her witli a poniard and a pistol ! 
But these weak hands shall shew my spleen. 

Re-enter RLarcelia below. 

Marc. Where are you ? 
You modicum, you dwarf ! 
Mari. Here, gi;intess, here. 

Enter Francisco, Tiberio, and Stephano. 
Fran. A tumult in the court ! 
Mari. Let her come on. 
Fran. What wind hath raised (his tempest? 
Sever them, I command you. What's the cause ? 
Speak, Mariana. 

Mari. I am out of breath ; 
But we shall meet, we shall. — And do you hear sir ! 
Or right me on this monster, (she's three feet 
Too liigh for a woman,) or ne'er look to have 
A quiet hour with me. 

Isab. If my son were here. 
And would endure this, may a mother's curse 
Pursue and overtake him ! 

Fran. O forbear : 
In me he's present, both in power and will ; 
And, madam. I much grieve that, in his absence, 
There should arise the least distaste to move you : 
It being his principal, nay, only charge. 
To have you, in his absence, served and honour'd, 
As when himself perform'd the willing office. 
Mari, This is fine, i'faith. 

Grac. I would I were well off! [not, 

Fran. And therefore, I beseech you, madam, frown 
Till most unwittingly he hath deserved it, 
On your poor servant ; to your excellence 
I ever was and will be such ; and lay 
The dulie's authority, trusted to me, 
With willingness at your feet. 
Mari. O base ! 
Isah. We are like 
To have an equal judge! 

Fran. But, should I find 
That you are touch'd in any point of honour 
Or that the least neglect is fall'n upon you, 
I then stand up a prince. 

1 Fid. Without reward, 
Prav you dismiss us 

Grac. Would I were five leagues hence ! 
Fran. 1 will be partial 
T<f none, not to myself ; 
Be you but pleased to shew me my offence. 
Or if you hold me in your good opinion, 
Name those that have offended you. 

Isah. I am one. 
And I will justify it. 

Mari. Thou art a base fellow. 
To t:ike her part. 

Fran. Hemeiiiber, she's the dutchess. 
Marc. But used with more contempt, than if I were 
A peasant's daughter ; baited, and hooted at. 
Like to a common strumpet ; with loud noises 
Forced from inv pravers ; and my private chamber. 
Which, with all willingness, I would make my prisoo 



CENE I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



n 



Durin": the absence of my lord, denied me : 
But it he eVr return ■* 

Fran. Were you an actor 
In this lewd comedy ? 

Miiri. Ay, marry was I ; 
And will be one again. 

liub. I'll join with lier. 
Though you repine at it. 

Fran. Think not, then, I speak. 
For I 8tan<l bound to lionour, and to serve you, 
Hut that the duke, that lives in this great lady. 
For the contempt of l)im in her, commands you 
To be close prisoners. 

hah. Mari. Prisoners ! 

Fran. Bear them hence ; 
This is your charge, my lord Tiberio, 
And. Stephano, this is yours. 

Marc. I am not cruel. 
But ])leased they may have liberty. 

hcib. Pleased, with a mischief! 

Mari. I'll rather live in any loathsome dungeon, 
Thau in a paradise at her entreaty : 
And, for you, upstart 

Steph. There is no contending. 

Tib. Wiiat shall become of these? 

Fran. See them well whipp'd. 
As you will answer it. 

Tih. Now, signior Graccho, 
Wliat think you* of your gieatuess ? 

Grac. I preach patience, 
And must endure my fortune. 

1 Fid. I was never yet 
At such a hunt's-upt, nor was so rewarded. 

[Eieunt all hut Francisco and Marcelia. 

Fran. Let them first know themselves, and how 
you are 
To be served and Iionour'd ; vyhicb, when they con- 
fess, 
You may again receive them to your favour : 
And tlien it will shew nobly. 

Marc. With my thanks 
The duke shall pay you his, if he return 
To bless us with his presence. 

Fran. There is nothing 
That can be -.idded to your fair acceptance ; 
That is tlie prize, indeed ; all else are blanks. 
And of no value. As, in virtuous actions, 
The undertaker finds a full reward. 
Although conferr'd upon unthankful men ; 



* Tib. Now Nvjnior Graccho, 

H'hat tliink you of your greatness?] So the first qnarto. 
Coxcter no:) Mi'. M. iM;ison I'ollow liic second, whicli reads, 
Wliiit's btcume of your greatness ? 

t I Fid / «■«»■ never yet 

At such a limit s up,] Tlie hunt'sup was a lesson on the 
horn, pl.iyed uiidtr tlie ^\ill(lows ut spoiLsinen, to call them 
up in the inoriuiig. It was, probably, sufliiiently obstrepe- 
rous, for it is ircquentiv applied by our old writers, as in this 
place, to any noi^c or claiiioiir of an awakening or alarming 
natiiie. The liine, or rather, perhaps, the words to it, was 
compos d by one Gray, in the time of Henry VIM. who, as 
Putteiiham ttlfs us, in his Art of English Patsy, was much 
pleased with it. Of its popularity tliere can be no doubt, for 
It was one of the songs travestied by the Scotrh Reformers 
into " ane gude and godly ballale," for Itxp edification of the 
elect. The liijt stanza of the original is come down to ns : 
" Tlie huiile is np, the hunie is up. 
And iiowe it is almost daye ; 
And he that's in bed with another man's wife. 
It is time to get awaye." 
The tune, I suppose, is lost ; but we hiive a AHn('s-i/pof our 
own, which Is still played under (he windows of theslnggish 
jponsnian, and consists of a chorus of men, dogg, and horns, 
not a little alatrmiog. 



So. anv service done to so much sweetness. 
However dangerous, and subject to 
An ill construction, in your favour finds 
A wish'd, and glorious end. 

Marc. From you, I take this 
As loyal duty ; but, in any other, 
It would appear gross flattery. 

Fran. Flatteiy, madam ! 
You are so rare and excellent in all things. 
And raised so high upon a rock of goodness, 
As that vice cannot reach you* ; who but looks OH 
This temjile, built by nature to perfection. 
But must bow to it ; and out of that zeal. 
Not only learn to adore it, but to love it? 

Marc. Whither will this fellow? [^Atidt 

Fran. Pardon, therefore, madam. 
If an excess in me of humble duty. 
Teach me to hope, and though it be not in 
The power of man to merit such a blessing, 
jMy piety, for it is more than love. 
May find reward. 

Marc. You have it in my thanks ; 
And, on my hand, I am pleased that you shall take 
A full possession of it ; but, take heed 
That you fix here, and feed no hope beyond it ; 
If you do, it will jirove fatal. 

Fran. Be it death. 
And death with torments tyrants ne'er found out. 
Yet I must say, I love you. 

Marc. As a subject ; 
And 'twill become you. 

Fran. Farewell circumstance ! 
And since vou are not ]ileased to understand me. 
But by a plain and usual form of speech ; 
All superstitious reverence laid by, 
I love you as a man, and, as a man, 
I would enjoy you. Why do you start, and &y met 
I am no monster, and you but a woman, 
A wumwn made to yield, and by example 
Told it is kwful : favours of this nature. 
Are, in our age, no miracles in the greatest ; 

And, therefore, lady 

Marc. Keep off. O you Powers ! 

Libidinous beast ! and, add to that, unthankful! 
A crime, which creatures wanting reason, fly from ) 
Are all the princely bounties, favours, honours, 
Which, with some prejudice to his own wisdom. 
Thy lord and raiser hath conferr'd upon thee. 
In three days absence buried ? Il.ath he made thee, 
A thing obscure, almost without a name. 
The envy of great fortunes ? Have I graced thee, 
Bevond thy rank, and enlertain'd thee, as 
A friend, and not a servant ? and is this. 
This impudent attempt to taint mine honour. 
The fair return of both our ventured favours! 
Fran. Near my excuse. 
Marc. The devil may plead mercy. 
And with as much assurance, as thou yield one. 
Burns lust so hot in thee ! or is thy pride 
Grown up to such a height, that, but a princess. 
No woman can content thee ; and, add to it. 
His wife and priacess, to whom thou art tied 
In all the bonds ot duty 1 — Head my life. 
And find one act of mine so loo.^ely carried. 
That could invite a most self-loving fool, 

• As that vice cannot reach you;] i. e. (iallery ! C^xitef 
deseits the old copies here, and reads, I know not for vibdA 
reason. 

That vice can never reac/t you! 
His Achates follows him as uioal. 



72 



THE rUKE OF MILAN. 



[A-T Jt 



Set off with all that fortune could throw on him, 
To the least hope to find way to my favour ; 
And, what's the worst mine enemies could wish me, 
I'll be thv strumpet. 

Fran. ''lis acknowledged, madam, 
That vour whole course of life 1-ath been a pattern 
For chaste and virtuous women. In your beauty, 
Which 1 hrst saw, and loved, as a fair crystal, 
I read your heavenly mind, clear and untainted ; 
And while the duke did prize you to your value. 
Could it have been in man 1o pay that duty, 
I well mio-lit envy him, but durst not liope 
To stop you in your full career of goodness : 
But now" I find that he's fall'n from his fortune, 
And, howsoever he would appear doting. 
Grown cold in his affection ; I presume, 
From his most barbarous neglect of you. 
To offer my true service. Nor stand I bound. 
To look back ui. the courtesies of him, 
That, of all living men, is most unthankful. 

Marc. Unheard-of impudence ! 

Fran. You'll say I am modest, 
When I have told 'the story. Can he tax me. 
That have received some worldly trifles from him. 
For being unhrateful ; when he, that first tasted. 
And iiath so long enjoy 'd, your sweet embraces. 
In which all blessings that our frail condition 
Is capable of, are wholly comprenended. 
As cloy 'd with happiness, contemns the giver 
Of his felicity ! and, as he reacli'd not 
The masterpiece of mischief wjiich he aims at. 
Unless he pay those lavours he stands bound to, 
With fell and deadly hate ! — You tiiink he loves you 
With unexampled fervour ; nay, dotes on you, 
As there were something in you more than wornan : 
When, on my knowledge, he long since iiath wish'd 
You were among the dead ; — and I, you scorn so. 
Perhaps, am your preserver. 

Mure. Bless me, good angels, 
Or 1 am blasted ! Lies so false and wicked. 
And fashion'd to so damnable a purpose, 
Cannot be spoken by a human tongue. 
My husband iiateme ! give thyself the lie, 
False and accurs'd ! Thy soul, if thou hast any, 
Can witness, never lady stood so bound 
To the unfeign'd affection of lier lord, 
As I do to my Sforza. If tliou wouldst work 
Upon my weak credulity, tell me,. rather, 
That the earth moves ; the sun and stars stand still ; 
The ocean keeps nor floods nor ebbs ; or that 
There's peace between the lion and the lamb ; 
Or that the ravenous eagle and the dove 
Keep in one aerie*, and bring up their young ; 
Or any thing that is averse to nature : 
And 1 will sooner credit it, than that 
My lord can think of me, but as a jewel. 
He loves more than himself, and all the world. 

Fran. O innocence abused ! simplicity cozen'd ! 
It were a sin, for which we have no name, 
To keep you longer in this wilful error. 
Read his affection here ; — [Gii'cs her a paper.'\ — and 

then observe 
How dear he holds you ! 'Tis his character. 
Which cunning yet could never counterfeit. 



• Or that, the ravenous eaijle and the dove 

Kept in one aerie,! i. "e. in one nest. Mr. M. Mason 
degrades Massinger and himself, liy reaning, Kivp in one 
aviary I Sncli raslines<i, and such incompetence, it is to be 
hoped, do not oflen meet in one person. 



Marc, 'lis his hand, I'm resolved* of it. I'll try 
What the iiiscrij>lion ts. 
Fran. Pray you, do so. 

I\larc. [rends.] You hnnw mi) pleasure, and ilie hout 
of Murcetia's death, which Jail not to execute, as i/ou 
will answer the contrarif. not with your head alone, but 
with the ruiji of your whole family. And this, urilten 
with mine own hand, and signed with my privy signet, 
shall be your sujficient narrant. 

LoDOVico SponzA. 

I do obey it; every word's a poniard. 

And reaches to my heart. [She swoon*. 

Fran. What have 1 done ' 
Madam ! for heaven's sake, madam ! — O my fate! 
I'll bend her body* : this is, yet, some pleasure : 
I'll kiss her into a new life. Dear lady ! — 
She stirs. For the duke's sake, for Sforza's sake — 

Marc. Sforza's ! stand oft" ; though dead, I will 
be his. 
And even my ashes shall abhor the touch, 
Of any other. — O unkind, and cruel ! 
Learn, women, learn to trust in one another ; 
There is no faitli in man : Sforza is false, 
False to Maicelia ! 

Fran. But I am true, 
And live to make you happy. All the pomp. 
State, and observance you had, beino- liis, 
Compared to what you shall enjoy, when mine. 
Shall be no more remember'd. Lose his memory. 
And look with cheerful beams on your new creature , 
And know, what he hath plotted for your good. 
Fate cannot alter. If the emperor 
Take not his life, at his return he dies, 
And by mv hand ; my wife, that is his heir. 
Shall quickly follow : — then we reign alone! 
For with this ariu I'll swim through seas of blood. 
Or make a bridge, arcli'd with the bones of men. 
But 1 will giasp my aims in you, my dearest, 
Dearest, and best of women |! 

Marc. 1 hou art a villain ! 
All attributes of archvillains made into one, 
Cannot express thee. I prefer the hate 
Of Sforza tliough it mark me for the grave. 
Before thy base affection. I am yet 
Pure and unspotted in my true love to him ; 
Nor shall it be corrupted, though he's tainted : 
Nor will I part with innocence, because 
He is found guilty. For thyself, thou art i 

A thing, that, equal with the devil himself, 
I do detest and scorn. 

Fran. Thisu, then, art nothing : 



* 'Tis his hand, I'm resolved of it.] I am convinced o^ 
it: so the word is lieqnently used by Massini^tr's contem 
poraries. Thus Flett-lier, in the Faithful Shepherdess : 
" But be they far IVoni nie with iheir fond leuoi ! — 
1 am resolved my Cldoe yet is true." 
And Webster, m the h kite Devil: 
" I am resolved. 

Were there a second paradise to lose, 
This devil would betray it." 
t I'll bend her body ."l-to try if there be any life in i 
Thus, in the Maid s Tr'ayedy : 

" I've heard, if there be any life, but how 

The body llius, and it will show itsell." 

I But I will arasp my aims in yon, my dearest. 

Dearest, and best of women .'] It would sci i e.ly be ere 
dited.if we had nut the proof before us, Uial lor this bold and 
animated expression, which is that of bi>lli III- qiLinos, Mr. 
M. Mason should presume to print. But I will grasp you in 
my arms, in the tame rant of modern comedy. Coxeter's 
reading is simple nonsense, which is better thau Kpecioui 
sophistication, as it excites suspicion. 



Scene I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



73 



Thy life i? in inv power, disdainful woman ! 
rUinU on't, and tremble. 

Mi<rc. No, though tlion wert now 
To play thy hangman's parr. — Thou well may'st be 
My execurioner, and art only fit 
For such eiuplovment ; but ne'er hope to have 
The U-a^t grace from me. I will never see thee, 
But as tlie shame of men : so. with mv curses 
Of horror to thv conscience in this life, 
And pains in hell hereafter, I spit at thee ; 
And, making haste to make my peace with heaven, 
Expect thee as my hangman. ^Exit. 



Fran. I am lost 

In the discovery of this fatal secret. 

Curs'd hope, that fiatter'd me, that wrongs oould 
make her 

A stranger to her goidness ! all my plots 

Turn back upon myself; but 1 am in. 

And must go on : and, since I have put oft 

From the sliore of innocence, guilt be now my pilot! 

Revenge first wrought me*; murder's his twin- 
brother : 

One deadly sin, then, help to cure another ; [Eitt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. — The Imperial Camp, Before Pavia. 
Enter Medina, Hernando, and Alphonso, 

Med. The spoil, the spoil ? 'tis that the soldier 
fights for. 
Our victory, as yet, affords us nothings 
But wounds and empty honour. We have pass'd 
The hazard of a dreadful day, and *brced 
A passage with our swords through all the dangers 
That, page-like, wait on the success of war ; 
And now expect reward. 

Hern. Hell put it in 
The enemy's mind to be desperate, and hold out! 
Yieldings and compositions will undo us ; 
And what i> tliat way given, for ihe most part. 
Comes to the emperor's coffers, to defray 
The charge of tlie great action, as 'tis rumour'd ; 
When, usually, some thing in grace, that ne'er 

heard 
The cannon's roaring tongue, but at a triumph, 
Puts in, and for his intercession ^l^.lres 
All th.it we fought for : the poor soldier left 
To starve, or fill up hospitals. 

Ali)h, But, when 
We enter towns l)y force, and carve ourselves, 
Pleasure with pillage, and the richest wines. 
Open our shrunk-up veins, and pour into them 
New blood and fervour 

Med. 1 long to be at it ; 
To see these chuft's*, that every day may spend 
A soldier's entertainment for a year, 
Yet make a third meal of a bunch of raisinsf : 



• To see these chuffs,] So it stood in every eilition before 
Mr. M. Mason's, when it was alteied In c/wiit/lis, Am] e\- 
plained in a note, to mean maijpies ! What inau|jie« cdiilil 
have to do here, It wouUl, peiliaps, have pii/./,led t le editor, 
had lie lhoin:ht at all on tlie subject, to <IJsco\er 'I'lie t.iith 
is, that cliuffii the genuine word : it isalwajs used in a had 
ten-e, an I means a coarse unniannered clown, at on^e sonlid 
and vveallhy. 

t Yet make a third meal of a lunch p/" rais'ns :] So all ilio 
old copies : and so, indeed, Coxeter ; bnt Mr. M. Mason, 
whose siyacilj nothing escapes, <lelicted the poets blu.idc r, 
and for third sugsiested, nay, actiially primed, thin. " I hi- 
pas.-agc," <iMoth i:e, " appears to be erroneon* : the nia'ing 
a third meal of raisin-, if they made two ijood meals be ore, 
would be no proof of penurioiisness. 1 thereloie leid th n" 

Seriously, was ever alteration so c.ipricious, was ever rea- 
Bonini; so ab^nd ? Where is it s.iid tli .1 these churt* " had 
made two good meals before'?" Is not Ihe whole tend n.y 
of Ihe ape ch to shew Ih.il ihey Maived tlunis.Kisin t e 
midst of .ibi'.ndance .' and are not ihe lepioaelus sncli, as liavt 
been cast, in all a^cs, by men of Medina's stamp, on Ihe 



These sponges, that suck up a kingdom's fat, 
Battenuiglike scarabs t in the dunu- of peace. 
To be squeezed out by the rough hand of war ; 
And all that tlieir whole lives have heap'd together; 
By cozenage, perjury, or sordid thrift, 
\Vith one gripe to be ravish'd. 

Hern. I would be tousing 
Their fair madonas, that in little dogs. 
Monkeys, and para()uittos, consume thousands: 
Yet, for the advancement of a noble action. 
Repine to part with a poor piece of eight: 
War's plagues upon tliem ! 1 have seen them stop , 
Their scornful noses first, then seem to swoon, 
At sight of a buff jerkin, if it were not 
Perfumed, and hid with gold : yet these nice wantona, 
Spurr'd on by lust, cover'd in some disguise, 
To meet sonie rough coiiri-stallion, and be leap'd 
Durst enter into any common brothel. 
Though all varieties of stink contend there; 
Yet praise the entertainment. 

Med. I may live ^ 

To see the tatter'd'st rascals of my troop ' 

Drag them out of their closets with a vengeance; 
When neither threatening, flattering, h.neeling, bow- 
ling. 
Can ransome one ])Oor jewel, or redeem 
Themselves, from their blunt wooing. 

Hern. My main hope is. 
To begin the spurt at Milan : there's enough. 
And of all kinds of pleasure we can wish for, 
To satisfy the most covetous. 

Atpli. Every day, 
We look for ii remove. 

Med. For Lodowick Sforza, 
The duke of Milan, 1, on mine cwn knowledge, 

sober and frugal citizen, who lived within his incomel 
" Surely." says I'lotwell, in the City Match, 
" Snri Ij , myself, 

Ci| her his fielor, and an ancient cat. 
Did keep strict diet, h ,d our Spanish fare, 
Four olives among threi- ! My uncle would 
Look fat with fasting; I have known hiin surfeit 
Lipon a bimch o/ raisins, swoon at sight 
Oi a whole joint, anil rise all epicure 
From half an orange." 
• Revenue first wrought me, &c.] The reader should nol 
siiBVr these hints, oi wliic he will find several in the suc- 
ceeding pige-, to esc !pe him : Ihey are not thrown out at 
lando.ii by Ma'sinuer, but intended to prepare the mind for 
the theadinl retaliaiUni which follow*. 

T hatteniny like scarabs i Scarabs mean? beetles. M. 
Mason. Very true; and beetles means scarabs! 



74 



TFIE DUKE OK MILAN. 



[Act IIL 



Can say thus much : he is too much a soldier, 
Too confident of his own wortli, too ricli too. 
And understands too well the emperor hates hira, 
To hope for composition. 

Alph. On my life, 
We nee<l not fear his coming in ♦. 

Hern. On mine, 
I do not wish it : I liad rather that, 
To shew his valour, he'd put us to the trouble 
To fetch him in by the ears. 

Med. The emperor. 

FlimrUh. Enter Charles, Pescara. anti Attendants 

Cbarl. You make me wonder : — nay, it is no 
counsel t, 
You may partake it, gentlemen : who'd have thought. 
That he, that seorn'd.our proffer'd amity 
When he was sued to, should, ere he be summon'd 
(VVhether persuaded to it bv base fear. 
Or flatter'd by false hope, which, 'tis uncertain,) 
First kneel for mercy 1 

Med. When your majesty 
Shall please to instruct us who it is, we may 
Admire it with you 

Charl. Who, but the duke of Milan, 
The right hand of the French ! of all that stand 
In our displeasure, whom necessity 
Compels to seek our favour, I would have sworn 
Sforza had been the last. 

Hern. And should be writ so, 
In the list of those you pardon. Would his city 
Had rather held us out a siege, like Troy, 
Than, by a feign'd submission, he should cheat you 
Of a just revenge ; or us, of those fair glories 
We have sweat blood to purchase ! 

Med. With your honour 
You cannot hear him. 

Alph. The sack alone of Milan 
Will pay the army. 

Charl. 1 am not so weak. 
To be wrought on, as you fear; nor ignorant 
That money is the sinew of the war : 
And on what terms soever he seek peace, 
Tis in our power to grant it, or deny it : 
Yet, for our glory, and to shew him that 
We've brought him on his knees, it is resolved 
To hear him as a suppliant. Bring him in ; 
But let him see the eff.cts of our just anger, 
In the guard that you make for him. 

[^Eiit Pescara. 

Hern. I am now 
Familiar with the issue ; all plagues on it ! 
He will appear in some dejected habit, 
His countenance suitable, and, for his order, 
A rope about liis neck : then kneel, and tell 
Old stories, what a worthy thing it is 
To have power, and not to use it ; then add to that, 
A tale of king Tigranes, and great Pompey, 
Who said, forsooth, and wisely ! 'Twasmore honour 
To make a king, than kill one ; which, ai)plied 
To the emperor, and himself, a pardon's granted 
To him, an enemy ; and we, his servants, 
Condemn'd to beggary. 



• Alph. On n.y life 

U'e need not fear Mr cowing in-l His surrender of himseh". 
Hernando, in the nfil spofcli, pl,tjs upon the word. 

i —nay, it is no counsel,] i. c. no secret: so 

ic Cupid' t Revent/e : 

" 1 would worry her. 

As never cur was worried, I wonid, neishbour. 

Till my leelli met 1 know where ; but that is counsel." 



Med. Yonder he comes ; 
But not as you expected. 

Ee-emer Pescara with Sforza. 

Alph. He looks as if 
He would out face his dangers. 

Hern. I am cozen'd : 
A suitor, in the devil's name ! 

Med. Hear him speak. 

Sjhr. I come not, emperor, to invade thy mercy, 
Bv fawning on thy fortune ; nor bring with me 
Excuses, or denials. I profess. 
And with a good man's confidence, even this instant 
That 1 am in thy power, I was thine enemy ; 
Thv deadly and vow'd enemy : one tliat wish'd 
Confusion to thy person and estates ; 
And with my utmost powers, and deepest counsels, 
H;id they been truly follow'd, further'd it. 
Nor will I now, altliough my neck were under 
The hangman's axe, with one poor syllable 
Confess, but that I honour'd the French king, 
More tlian thyself, and all men, 

Med. By saint Jaques, 
This is no flattery 

Hern. There is fire and spirit in't ; 
But not long-lived, I hope. 

Sjor. Now give me leave. 
My hate against thyself, and love to him 
Freely acknowledged, to give up the reasons 
'Jhat made me so affected : In my wants 
I ever found iiim faithful ; had supplies 
Of men and monies from him ; and my hopes. 
Quite sunk, were, by his grace, buoy'd iij) again: 
lie was, indeed, to me, as my good angel. 
To guard me from all dangers. I dare speak. 
Nay, must and will, his praise now, in as high 
And loud a key, as when he was tliy equal. 
The benefits he sow'd in me, met not 
Unthairkful ground, but yielded him his own 
Wiith fair increase, and I still glory in it. 
And, though my fortunes, poor, compared to his. 
And .Milan, weigh'd with France, appear as nothing'. 
Are in thy fury burnt, let it be mention'd. 
They served but as small tapers to attend 
I'he solemn flame at this g'-eal funeral * : 
And with them I will gladly waste myself. 
Rather than undergo the imputation 
Of being base, or unthankful. 

Alph. Nobly spoken! 

Hern. I do begin, I know not .why, to hate him 
Less than I did. 

Sj'or. If that, then, to be grateful 
For courtesies received, or not to leave 
A friend in his necessities, be a crime 
Amongst you Spaniards, which other nations 
That, like you, aim"d at empire, loved, and cherish 'd 
Where'er they found it, Sforza brings his head 
To pay the forfeit. Nor come 1 as a slave, 
Pinion'd and fetter'd, in a squalid weed. 
Falling before thy feet, kneeling and howling. 
For a forestall'd remission : that were poor. 
And would but shame thy victory ; for conquest 
Over base foes, is a captivity, 
And not a triumph. I ne'er fear'd to die. 
More than 1 wish'd to live. When I had reach'd 
Mv ends in being a duke, I wore these robes. 



• af this great funeral ;] Mr. M. Mason. 

whether by desii;" or "o'. I will not >»y, reads, his great 
funeral : nieaiiin!;, perhaps, the French kinij's; but 'he old 
reading is better in every respect. 



SOBKE I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



75 



This crown upon my head, and to my side 

This sword was girt ; and witness truth, that, now 

'Tis in another's power wlien 1 shall part 

With them and life together, I'm the same : 

My veins then did not swell with pride ; nor now 

Shrink they for fear. Know, sir, that Sforza stands 

Prepared for either fortune. 

Hern. As I live, 
I do begin strangely to love this fellow ; 
And could part with three quarters of my share in 
The promised spoil, to save him. 

Sjor. But, if example 
Of my fidelity to the French, whose honours. 
Titles, and glories, are now mix'd with yours, 
As brooks, devour'd by rivers, lose their names, 
Has power to invite you to make him a friend. 
That hath given evident proof, he knows to love, 
And to be thankful ; this my crown, now yours, 
You may restore me, and m me instruct [change, 
These brave commanders, should your fortune 
Which now I wish not, what they may expect 
From noble enemies, for being faithful. 
The charges of the war I will defray. 
And, what you may, not without hazard, force. 
Bring freely to you : I'll prevent the cries 
Of murder'd'infants, and of ravish'd maids, 
Which, in a city sack'd, call on heaven's justice, 
And stop the course of glorious victories ; 
And, when I know the captains ajid the soldiers, 
That have in tlie late battle done be^t service, 
And are to be rewarded, I myself, 
According to their quality and merits. 
Will see them largely recompensed. — I have said. 
And now expect my sentence. 

Alph. By this light, 
Tis a brave gentleman. 

Med. How like a block 
The emperor siis ! 

Hern. He hath deliver'd reasons*, 
Especially in liis purpose to enricli 
Such as fought bravely, I myself aT. one, 
I care not who knows it, as 1 wonder that 
He can be so stupid. Now he begms to stir : 
Mercy, an't be thy will ! 

Churl. Thou hast so far 
Outgone my expectation, noble Sfor/a, 
For such I hold thee ; — and true constancy. 
Raised on a brave foundation, bears such palm 
And privilege with it, that where we behold it, 
Though in an enemy, it does command us 
To love and honour it. By my future hopes, 
I am glad, for thy sake, that, in seeking favour. 
Thou didst not borrow of vice her indirect, 
Crooked, and abject means ; and for mine own, 
That since my purposes must now be changed, 
Touching thy life and fortiines, the world cannot 
Tax me df levity in my settled coun^els ; 
I being neither wrought by tempting bribeg, 
Nor servile flattery ; but forced into it 
By a fair war of virtue. 



• He hath deliver'd reasons,! Hernando eviilently means 
to say that Sioiz.* his >puk(n rationally, fsprcially in ex- 
pressing ills pinpo.-e of enilchini; ihufe who /oiiylit bravely : 
the word reasons in the pliiial will not express that sense. 
M. Mason. 

He therefore alters it to reason! To attempt (o prove that 
the old copies are ri>;ht, «onll be siipeilinou- :— but I cannot 
reflect, vviih(>ut some indignation, on tlie scandalous inanmr 
in which Mr. M. Mason has givcji this speecli. He hr.-t 
deprives it '-f metre and sense, and then b"i''ls up new read- 
tnga on his own blunders. 



Hern. This sounds well. 

Chart. All former passages of hate be buried : 
For thus with open ar.ns I meet thy love. 
And as a friend embrace it ; and so far 
1 am from robbing thee of the least honour. 
That with my hands, to make it sit the faster, 
I set thy crown once more upon thy head ; 
And do not only style thee, Duke of .Milan, 
But vow to keep thee so. Yet, not to take 
From others to iiive only to myself*, 
I will not hinder your ma'.;nificence 
To my commanders, neither will I urge it ; 
But in that, as in all things else, I leave you 
To be your own disposer. 

[^Flourish. Exit with Attendants. 

Sfor. May I live 
To seal my loyalty, though with loss of life. 
In some brave service worthy Cwsar's favour. 
And I shall die most happy ! Gentlemen, 
Receive me to your loves ; and if henceforth 
There can arise a difference between us, 
It shall be in a noble emulation 
Who hath the fairest sword, or dare go farthest, 
To fight for Charles the emperor. 

Hern. We embrace you, 
As one well read in all the points of honour •• 
And there we are your scliolars. 

Sj'or. True ; but such 
As far outstrip the master. We'll contend 
In love hereafter ; in the mean time, prny you. 
Let me discharge my debt, and, as an earnest 
Of what's to come, divide this cabinet : 
In the small hodv of it there are jewel.-* 
Will yield a hundred thousand pistolets, 
Which honour me to receive. 

Med. You bind ns to you. fhis presence, 

SJor. And when great Charles commands me to 
If you will please to excuse my abrupt dejiarture. 
Designs that most concern me, next this mercy, 
Calling me home, I shall hereafter meet you. 
And gratify the favour. 

Hern. In this, and all things, 
We are your servants. 

Sj'or. A name I ever owe you. 

[Eieunt Medina, Hernando, and .4lphonto» 

Peso. So, sir ; this tempest is well overblown. 
And all things fall out to our wishes : hut, 
In my opinion, this quick return. 
Before you've made a party in the court 
Among the great oneS, (for these needy captains 
Have little power in peace,) may beget danger. 
At least suspicion. 

Sfor. Where true honour lives, 
Doubt hath no being : I desire ho pawn 
Beyond an emperor's word, for my assurance. 
Besides, Pescara, to thyself, of all men, 
I will confess my wtjakness : — though my state 
And crown's restored me, though 1 am in grace. 
And that a little stay might be a step 
To greater honours, 1 must hence. Alas ! 
I live not here ; my wife, my wiie Pesraraf, 

-Yet, not to take 



Fnrm others, tn give only to myself,! This is the reading 
of all the old copies, anil nothiii>; can be clearer than that it 
is perfectly proper. The modern editors, however, < lioose 
to weaken both the sense and the sentiment, by a conceit of 
their own : they print, — - — to (jive only I o tlijsell! 

t my wife, my wife, Fescnra,^ Mr. M. Mason 

feebly and nnmelrically reads, my iv[t> , P escara. There 

is great beauty in the repetition ; it is, besides, perfectly \m 
character. 



f<> 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



I Act III 



Beins: absent, I am dead. Prithee, excuse, 
And do not eliide, for friendslii])'s sake, mv fondness, 
But ride jilong ivith me ; I'll give you reasons. 
And strong: ones, to plead for me. 

Pei>c Use vour own pleasure ; 
I'll bear vou compiiny. 

Sj'or. Farewell, grief! I am stored with 
Two blessings most desired in human life, 
A constant friend, an unsuspected wife. \^Eieun\ 



SCENE n.— Milan.— A Room in the Castle*. 
Enter an Officer with Graccho. 

Offic. What I did, I had warrant for ; you have 
tasted 
My olfice gently, and for those soft strokes, 
Flea-bitings to the jerks I could have lent you, 
There coes belong a feeling. 

Grac. INIust I pay 
For being tormented, and dishonour'd? 

Offic. Fie ! no, [out 

Your honour's not impair'd in't, What's the letting 
Of a little corru|it bloodt, and the next way too? 
There is no surgeon like me, to take off 
A courtier's itch that's rampant at great ladies, 
Or turns knave for preferment, or grows proud 
Of his rich cloaks and suits, though got by brokage. 
And so forgets his betters. 

Grac. '\''ery good, sir : 
But am I the first man of quality 
That e'er came under your fingers? 

Offic. Not by a thousand ; 
And they have said 1 have a lucky hand too : 
Both men and women of all sorts have bow'd 
Under this sceptre. I have had a fellow 
That could endite, forsooth, and make fine metres 
To tinkle in tlie ears of ignonint madams. 
That, for defaming of great men, was sent me 
Threadbare and lousy, and in three days after. 
Discharged by another that set him on, 1 have seen 
Cap k ])ie gallant, and his stripes wash'd off [him 
With oil of angels.^ 

Grac. 'Twas a sovereign cure. 

Offic. There was a sectary too, that would not be 
Conformable to the orders of the church, 
Nor yield to any argument of reason. 
But still I'ail at authority, brought to me. 
When I had worm'd his tongue, and truss'd his 

haunches, 
Grew a fine pulpitman, and was beneficed : 
Had he not cause to thank me ? 

Grac. There was physic 
Was to the purpose. 

OJfic. Now, for women, sir. 
For your more consolation, I could tell you 
Twenty fine stories, but I'll end in one, 
And 'tis the last that's memorable. 

Grac. Prithee, do ; 
For I grow weary of thee. 



• Milan. A Ilonm in the Castle.] Here too Coxelpr print?, 
"Scene chanyee to Pisti!' and luiv too lie is follow od bj 
the "most .iccniaie ot vdilor?," Mr. M. Mason 

♦ Of a little connpt blood,] So the old copies ; tlie modern 
editors read, OJ' a little eoniipted blood.' Jliis ndiicej ilie 
line to veiy Lood pro>e, wliich i< indeed its only merit. 

J U'iih oU of A\<gi\s I It niay be just necessary to ob.serve, 
Ibiit thi< is a pleasant allusion to the gold coin of that name. 



Offic. There was lately* 
A fine she-waiter in the court, that doted 
Extremely of a gentleman, that had 
His main dependence en a .-.ignior's favour 
I will not name, but could not compass him 
On any terms. This wanton at d^ad midnight. 
Was found at the exercise behind the arras. 
With the 'foresaid signior • he got clear oil". 
But she was seized on, and, to ^ave liis bonotii, 
Endured the lash ; and, though 1 made her often 
Curvet and caper, she would never tell 
Who play'd at ])uslipin with her. 

Grac. But what follow'd ? 
Prithee be brief. 

Offic. Why this, sir : She, deliver'd. 
Had store of crowns assign' her by her patron. 
Who forced the gentleman, to save her credit, 
To marry her, and say he was the jiarly 
Found in lob's pound ; so she, that, b'-fore, gladly 
Would have been his whore, reigns o'er liiin as his 

wife ; 
Nor dares he grumble at it. Speak but truth, then. 
Is not my office lucky ? 

Grac. Go, there's for thee; 
But what will be my fortune? 

Offic If you thrive not 
After that soft correction, come again. 

Grac. I thank you, knave. 

Offic. And then, knave, 1 will fit you. [EiK. 

Grac. Whipt like a rogue! no liyluer ])unishmeut 
serve 
To balance with a little mirth : 't is well. 
My credit sunk forever, I am now 
Fit com|iany only for jiages and for footboys, 
That have ])erused the porter's Indget. 

I'.nter Julio and Giovanni^. 

G(Oi>. See, Julio, 
Yonder the proud slave is ; how he looks now. 
After his castigation ! 

Jul. As he came 
From a close fight^ at sea under the hatches. 
With a she-Dunkirk, that was shot before 



* OfTc. 7 here uag lately, &c. 1 have little donbt hut thai 
this lively sloiy wa^ loiiniled in tail, an I well ninlrntood by 
the pott's contiinporai ies. I he coiirtic is weiv ii..t slow iu 
iiideiiiiiiry ini; iheinseKes I'or the iiioidse and [.lo.iinx hours 
whirh they had passtd dinins; ll:e last iwo ir ihiie >ear3 of 
I li/.ilielh ; and llie r<i rse and iiieles;aiit inaliinr- ol James, 
which biirdi red closely on licentiousness, atloidrd them 
ample iippoilniiilies. 

It is scarnly necessary to inlonn the readi r, that wher- 
ever our old diainali-ls laid the scene ol thi ir plays, the 
habits and manners of them are, gem rally speakinj;, as truly 
English as the laii'jnage. 

t /'iV company for jiageM and for footboys, 

'J hat have yervsed the porlei 's halue ] i e. that have 
been whip lln re. The porli r's I'll.e, in onranlhor's ilays, 
when tlic t;re.Tt cl.iiiiied, and, indud, fieqnmily <m icised, 
the rij;lit of cliasiisini; their servant-, \v.is ijie iisoal place of 

punishment. 'I'hiis Shirley, in the drutejiil Serrant : 

'• My friend, what make jou lure ( Bt 'j;ine, beuone, I say: 
— there is a porter's lodye »l-c, wlieie yon nmy have due 
chasiiseineiit.'' 

I £iiler }v\,io and C.ui\ \NNi] This has been 1 itherto 
printed, Knter tvm (ientlemen, ihi>'i<;h one of them is imnie- 
oiately named ^ot to mnltiply cliaraciers iiniieci -sarily, I 
have supposed them to be the same that appiar wiih Graccho, 
in the hi si --cene of the tirst act. 

j J 111 . Ashe came 

From a close fyht, &c.\ Our old pons made very free 
«il!i one anoihei s properly : it must be confe-sed, Imwever, 
that Iheir liierar> lapine di I not ori!;iiiate in povnty, for 
they gave as liberally .is iluy took. 'J his speech has beeti 
" lonvey d" by Fletcher into his e\cellenl comedy of th4 
Elder Brother : 



1 



Scene III.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



79 



Between wind and water ; and he haih sprung a leak 
Or I am cozen'd. [too, 

Giou. Let's be merry with him. 

Grac. How they stare at me! ami turn 'd to an 
The wonder, gentlemen ? [owl? 

Jul. 1 read tliis morning, 
Strange stories of the passive fortitude 
Of men in former ages, wliich I tliouglit 
Impossible, and not to be believed : 
But, now I look on you my wonder ceases. 

Grac. The reason, sir? 

Jul. Why, sir you have been whipt, 
Wiiipt, signior Graccho ; and the whip, I take it. 
Is, to a gentlemnn, the greatest trial 
That may be of his patience. 

Griic. Sir, I'll call you 
To a strict account for tliis. 

Giou. I'll not (leal with you, 
Unless I have a beadle for my second ; 
And then I'll answer vou. 

Jul. Farewell, poor Graccho. 

[Ejeii/if Julio and Giovanni, 

Grac. Better and better still. If ever wrongs 
Could teach a wretch to find the way to vengeance, 

Enter Fiiancisco and a Servant. 

Hell now inspire' me I How, the lord protector ! 
My judge ; 1 thank him ! Whither thus in private? 
I will not see him. \_Stands aiide. 

Fran. If I am souglit for. 
Say I am indisposed, and will not hear 
Or suits, or suitors. 

Serv. But, sir, if the princess 
Enquire, what shall I answer ? 

Frun." Say, I :im rid* 
Abroad to take the air ; but by no means 
Let her know I'm in court. 

Serv. So I sliall tell her. [_Exit, 

Fian- Within there, ladies ! 

Enter a Gentlewoman. 

Gentlew. My good lord, your pleasure? 

Fian. I'rithee, let me beg thy favour for access 
To the dutchess. 

Gentlew. In good sooth, my lord, I dare not ; 
She's very private. 

Fran. Come, there's gold to buy thee 
A new gown, and a rich one. 

Gentlew. I once sworef 
If e'er 1 lost my maidenhead, it should be 
With a gre-.it lord, as you are ; and 1 know not how, 
I feel a yielding inclination in me. 
If you have appetite. 



-Tlicy Icmk riiefiilly. 



As they ha I iirwly conic from a vaiilling house, 
And li.iil been quite shot Ihioiiijh between wind and water 
By a slieDunkiik, and had ^|Hlnll; a leak, .'ir." 
I charge tjie pi tly dejired.itiiin mi Flelclier, hecanse the pub- 
lication ot the Ouke of Mitan preceded that ol the Elder 
Brother, by many jears. 
* Fian. Say 1 am rid 

Abroad, Kc] So the rid copies: the modern editors, with 
equal accuracy aid ele<;ance. 

Say I'm rode 
Abroad, &c. 
+ I once mt'ore} Both the (juailos have a martiinal liemis 
tich here ; tliey read, This will tempt tne ; an aihlition of the 
prompter, or ;iii unnecess.iry inteipol.ition oi the copyisf, 
which spoils the inctie. Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason have 
-tdvaDccd it into the te2:t 



Fran. Pox on thy maidenhead ! 
Where is thv ladv ? 

Gentlew- If \on venture on her, 
She's walking in the gallery ; jierliaps, 
You will tind her less tractable. 
Fran. iJring me to her. 

Gentlew. I feiir you'll have cold entertainment, 
when ' [tion 

You are at your journey's end ; and 'twere discre- 
To take a snatch by the way. 
Fran. Piithee, leave fooling: 
! My page waits in the lobby ; give him sweetmeats; 
, He is traiii'd u])* for his master's ease, • 
' And he will 'cool thee. [^Exeunt Iran, and Genilext 
i Grac. A brave di-.covery beyond mv hope, 
I A plot even oH'er'd lo my hand to uork on ! 
I If I am dull now, mav I live and die 
' The scorn of worms and slaves ! — Let me consider", 
1 My ladv and Iter mother first committed, 
I In the favour of the dutchess, and 1 whipt ! 
That, with an iron pen, is writ in brass 
On my tough heart, now grown a harder metal. — 
I And all Ms bribed approachesto ihe dutchess 
To be coiiceal'd I good, good. This to my lady 
Deliver'd, as I'll order it, runs her mad. 
But this may jirove but courtship \ ; let it be, 
I I care not, so it feed her jealousy. [Ejtil. 



SCENE III. — Another Boom in the same. 
Enter Maiicllia and Francisco. 

Marc. Believe thv tears or ottths ! can it' be hoped. 
After a practice so abhorr'd and horrid, 
Repentance e'er can find thee ? 

Fru7i. Dearest lady, 
Great in your fortune, greater in your goodness. 
Make a sujierlative of excellence, 
In being greatest in your saving mercy. 
1 do confess, humbly confess my fault. 
To be bevond all |niy ; my attempt 
So barbarously rudi , that it woukl turn 
A saint-like jiatitnce into savage fury. 
But you. that are all innocence and virtue. 
No spleen or anger in you of a woman. 
But when a holy ztal to piety fires \ou, 
]\Iay, if you please, inijiute the fault to love, 
Or call it beastly lust, for 'tis no better ; 
A sin, a m mstrous sin ! \et with it many 
That did prove good men after, have been tempted; 
And, though I'm crooked now, tis in your power 
To make me straight agaiii. 

Marc. Is t jiossihle 
This can be cuiinii.g ! 

Fran. But, if no submission. 
Nor prayers can apjiea.se you, that you may know 
'Tis not the fear of death tlial makes me sue thus, 
But a loath'ci tietestation of my madness, 
Which makes me wish to live to have your pardon j 
I will not wait the .sentence of the duUe. 
Since his return is doubtful, but 1 myself 
Will do a ftartul justice on myself, 
No witness bv but you, th^ re beins; no more. 



• lie is frain'd vp, &c.] A hemisticli, or more, is lost her«, 
or, not ini()r. 1) il)l,\, pm p. >cly oniiili.d. I onl> mention it 
to account lor till- ill led ol" inftie ; lor ilie ciuiiinstance itscU 
is not woilh re.irllMn; 

t Hut thin map prove but coiMtfhip \c 1 Thai u, merely 
puyin-4 lu^ coinl'lo iiei .1- iliil liess. iM l^U^ON. 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[Act in 



When I offended. Yet, before I do it, 
For i perceive in you no sij^ns of mercy, 
I will disclose a secret, wliicli, dying with me. 
May prove your ruin. 

Marc. Speak it ; it will take from 
The burthen of thy conscience. 

Fian. Thus, then, madam : 
The warrant bv my lord sign'd for your death. 
Was but conditional ; hut vou must swear 
By your uns[iotfed truth, not to reveal it, 
Or I end liere abruptly. 

Marc. By my hopes 
Of joys ht-realter. On. 

Fran. Nor was it hate 
That forced him to it, but excess of love : 
And, if J neer leturn, (so said great Sforza,) 
No living man deserving to enjoif 
Ml) best Marcelia, with the Just news 
That I am dead, (for no man ajter me 
Must e'ei enjoii tier )Juil not to kill her, 
But till certiiin proof 

Assure thee I am lost (these were his words,) 
Observe and honour her, as if the smd 
Of womMns goodafssonlif dnelt in her's. 
This trust 1 have abused, and ba-iely wrong'd ; 
And, if the excelling jiity of your mind 
Cannot forgive it, as 1 dure not liO[)e it, 
Rather than look on mv ofl'eiuled lord, 
I stand resolved to punish it. 

Marc. Hold ! 'tis forgiven, 
And bv me freely ])ardoird. In thy fair life 
Hereafter, study to deserve this b untv, 
Which thy true ])enitence, sn( h I believe it, 
Against my resolution liaih forced from me. — 
But that my lord, my Sfoiza, .»lioiild esteem 
My life fit only as a [mge, to wait on 
The various course of his uncer'uin fortunes; 
Or cherish in himself that sensual hope, 
In death to know me as. a wife, afflicts me ; 
Nor does his envy less deserve mine anger, 
Which, thoug!), such is my.love.I would notnourish. 
Will slack the ardour that 1 had to see him 
Return in safety. 

Fran. But if your entertainment 
Should give the least ground to his jealousy, 
To raise uji an opinion I am false, 
You then destroy your mercy. Tberefcre, madam, 
(Though I shall ever look on vou as on 
My lie's preserver, ami the miracle 
Of liuman pity,) would you but vouchsafe. 
In company, to do me those fair graces. 
And favours, which your innocence and honour 
May safely warrant, it would to the duke, 
I being to your best self alone known guiity. 
Make me appeur most innocent. 

Marc. Have your wishes. 
And something I may do to try his temper, * 

At least, to make him know a constant wife 
Is not so slaved to her husband's doting humours, 
But ;hiit she luav deserve to live a widow, 
Her fate appointing it, 

Fran, li is enough ; 
Nay, all I could desire, and will make way 
To my revenge, which sliall disjjerse itself 
On him, cm h r, aiid all. [i/iouf and Jtourish. 

Marc. What shout is that ? 

Enter 'i'liiiiRio and SrErnANo. 

Tib. All h;ij)piness to the dufchess. that may flow 
From the duke's new and wish'd return ! 



Marc. He's welcome. 

Steph. How coldly she receives it! 

Tib. Observe the encounter. 

Flourish. F.nter Sforza, Pescaiia, Isabella, 
Mariana, Graccho, and Attendants. 

Mari. Wliat you have told me, Graccho, is be- 
And I'll find time to stir in't. [lieved, 

Cirac. As you see cause j 
I will not do ill offices. 

Sfor. I have stood 
Silent thus long, Marcelia, expecting 
When, with more than a greedy haste, tljou wouldst 
Have flown into my arms, and on my lips 
Have printed a deep welcome. INIy desires 
To glass myself in these fair eyes, have borne me 
With more than human speed : nor dur.^t 1 stay 
In any temple, or lo any saint 
To pay my vows and thanks for my return, 
Till I had seen thee. 

Maic. Sir, 1 am most happy 
To look upon you safe, and would express 
I^Iy love and duty in a modest fashion. 
Such as might suit with the behaviour _ 

Of one that knows lierst-lf a wife, and how 
To temper her desires, not like a wanton 
Fired with hot appetite,; nor can it wrong me 
To love discreetlv. 

SI or. How ! why, can there be 
A niean in your affections to Sforza? 
Or any act, though ne'er so loose, that may 
Invite or heighten ajipelite, appear- 
Immodest or uncomely ? Do not move me , 
My passions to you are in extremes. 
And know no bounds :— come ; kiss me. 

Mure. I obey you. 

Sfor. By all the joys of love, she does sahiie me 
As if 1 were her grandfather ! \\ hat wi'ch. 
With cursed spells, hath (piencli'd tlie amcirous heat 
That lived upon these lips? Tell me, MarcL-lia, 
And truly tell me, is't a fault of mine 
That hath begot this coldness? or neglect 
Of others, i" my absence? 

Marc. Neither, sir : 
I stand indebted to your substitute, 
Noble and good Francisco, for his care 
And fair observance of me : there was nothing 
With which you, being present, could supply me. 
That I dare say I wanted. 

Sfor. How ! 

Marc. The pleasures 
That sacred Hymen warrants us, excepted, 
Of which, in troth, you are too great a duter ; 
And tiiere is more of beast in it than man. 
Let us love temperately ; things violent last not. 
And too mutli dotage rather argues folly 
Than true affeciitin. 

Grac. Observe but this. 
And how shs jiraised my lord's care and observance J 
And then judge, madam, if my intelligence 
Have any ground of truth. 

Mari. No more ; I mark it. 

Steph. How the duke stands ! 

Tih, As he were rooted there, 
And Inid no motion. 

Pesr. !My lord, from whence 
Grows this amazement .' 

SJar. It is more, dear my friend ; 
For 1 am doubtful whether I've a being. 



Scene I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



79 



But certain that my life's a burflien to me. 
Take me back, good Pescani. shew me lo Ciesar 
Jn all liis rage and fury ; 1 disclaim 
His mercv : to live now, which is his gift, 
Is worse than death and with all studied torments. 
jJarcelia is unkind, nay, worse, grown cold 
in her aftection ; my excess of fervour. 
Which yet was never equall'd, grown distasteful. 
—But have thy wishes, woman ; thou shalt know- 
That 1 can be myself, and thus shake oft" 
The fetters of fond dotage, from my siijht. 
Without reply ; for I am apt to do 
Something I may repent. — [Exit Marc ] — Oh I who 
would place 



His happiness in most accursed woman, 

In whom obse(|uiousness engenders pride ; 

And harshness deadly hatred ? — I'roin this hour 

I'll labour to forget ihere are such creatures ; 

True friends be now my mistresses. Clear your 

brows. 
And, though my heart-strings crack fcr't, I will be 
To all a free example of delight : 
We will have sports of all knids, and proi)Ound 
Rewards to such as can produce us new : 
Unsatisfied, though we surfeit in their store, 
And never think of curs'd Marceha more, [i- ceunt. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — The same. A Boom in the Castle, 
filter Franxisco and Ghaccho. 

Fran. And is it possible thou shouldst forget 
A wrong of such a nature, and then study 
My safety and content? 

Grac. Sir, but allow me 
Only to have read the elements of courtship*, 
Not the abstruse and hidden arts to thrive there; 
And von ir. ay please to grant me so much knowledge, 
That injuries from one in grace, like you, 
Are noble favours. Is it not grown common^ 
Ii. every sect, for those that want, to suffer 
From such as have to give ? Your captain cast. 
If poor, though not thought daring, but approved so, 
To raise a coward into name, that's rich, 
Sufl'ers disgraces publicly ; but receives 
Rewards for tlieni in privaie. 

Fran, Well observed. 
Put on* ; we'll be familiar, and discourse 
A little of this argument. I'hat day. 
In which it was first rumour'd, then confirm 'd, 
Great Sl'orza (hougiit me worthy of his favour, 
I found myself to be another thing ; 
Not what 1 was before. I passed then 
For a pretty fellow, and of pretty parts too. 
And was perhaps received so ; but, once raised, 
The liberal courtier made me master of 
Those virtues which 1 ne'er knew in myself; 
If I pretended to a jest, 'twas made one 
By their interpretation ; if I oft'er'd 
To reason of philosophy, though absurdly. 
They had helps to save me, and without a blush 
Would swear that I, by nature, had more know- 
ledge. 
Than others could acquire by any labour : 
Nay, all I did, indeed, which in another 
Was not remarkable, in me shew'd rarely. 

• ■ the elementi (j^ courtship,] i.e. of 

coiirtpolicy. M. Mason. 

+ ]s it not yrown common, &c.] Gracclio is an apt 

dcliolai- : ihuNC notable obseivations are derived Iroin the les- 
sons ol tlio Oliicer, in the last act. 

: Put oil ;] Be covered ; a frequent expression in these 
play». 



j Grac. But then they tasted of your bounty. 
1 Fran. True : 
They gave me those good p? rts I was not born to, 
And, by my intercession, they got that 
Which, had I cross'd them, they durst not have hoped 
for. 

Grac. All this is oracle : and shall I, tlieii. 
For a foolish whi|)ping, leave to honour him, 
That holds tt.e wheel of fortune '. no; that sivours 
Too much of the ancient freedom. Since great uieB 
Receive disgraces and give thanks, poor i- naves 
Must have nor spleen, nor anger. 'I'liougli 1 love 
My limbs as well as any -man, if you had now 
A humour to kick nie lame into an otiioc, 
Where 1 might sit in state and undo others, 
Stood I not bound to kiss the foot that diil it ? 
Though it seem stranje, there have been such 

things seen 
In the memory of man. 

Fran. But to the purpose. 
And then, that service done, make thine own for- 
tunes. 
My wife, thou say'st, is jealous I am toe 
Familiar with the dutchess. 

Grac. And incensed 
For her commitment in her brother's absence , 
And by her mother's anger is sj)urr'd on 
To make discovery of it. 1'his her purpose 
Was trusted to my charge, which I declined 
As much as in me lay ; but, finding her 
Determinately bent to undertake it, 
Though T)reaking my faith to her may destroy 
JMy credit with your lordship, I yet thought, 
Though at my peril, I stood bound to reveal it. 

Fran. I thank thy care, and will deserve thla 
secret. 
In making thee acquainted with a greater, 
And of more moment. Come into ray bosom. 
And take it from me : Canst thou think, dull 
Graccho, 
i My power and honours were conferr'd upon me. 
And, add to them, this form, to have my pleasures 
Confined and limited ? I delight in change, 
And sweet variety ; that's my heaven on earth, 
For which I love life only. I confess, 



80 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[Act rv 



My wife pleased me a day, the dutchess, two, 
(And yet I must not say I have en joy 'd her,) 
But now I care for neither : tlierefore, GraccliO, 
So far I am from stopping INIariana 
In makiiis;' her complaint, that I desire thee 
To urge her to it. 

Grac. That may prove your ruin : 
The dul{e already bcino;, as 'tis reported. 
Doubtful she hath plav'd false. 

Fian. There thou art cozen'd ; 
His dotage, like an ague, keeps his course, 
And now 'tis strongly on him. But I lose time. 
And therefore know, whether thou wilt or no. 
Thou art to be my instrument; and, in spite 
Of the old saw, that says. It is not safe 
On any terms to trust a man that's wrong'd, 
I dare thee to be false. 

Grac. This is a language, 
My lord, I understand not. 

Fran. You thought, sirrah, 
To put a trick on me for the relation 
Of what I knew before, and, having won 
Some weighty secret from me, in revenge 
To play the traitor. Know, thou wretched thing. 
By my command thou wert whipt ; and every day 
I'll have thee freshly tortured, if thou miss 
In the least charge that I impose upon thee. 
Though what I speak, for the most part, is true ; 
Nay, grant thou hadst a thousand witnesses 
To be deposed they heard it, 'tis in me. 
With one word, such is Sforza's confidenca 
Of my fidelity not to be shaken, 
To make all void, and ruin my accusers. 
Therefore look to't ; bring my wife hotly on 
To accuse ine to the duke— i-l have an end in't. 
Or think what 'tis makes man most miserable, 
And tiiat shall fall upon thee. Thou wert a fool 
To hope, by being acquainted with my courses, 
To curb and awe me ; or that I should live 
Thy slave, as thou didst saucily divine: 
For prying in my counsels, still live mine. \F.iit. 
Grac. I am caught on both sides. This 'tis for a 
puisne 
In policy's Protean school, to try conclusions 
With one that hath commenced, and gone out doctor*. 
If I discover what but now he bragg'd of, 
I shall not be believed : if I fall oti' 
From him, his threats and actions ao together, 
And tlieie's no hope of safety. Till I get 
A plummet that may sound his deepest counsels, 
I must obey and serve him : Want of skill 
Now makes me play the rogue against my will. 

[Exit. 



SCENE II. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter INIarcelia, TiBEnio, Stepiiano, and 

Gentlewoman. 

Marc. Command me from his sight, and with such 
scorn 
As lie would rate his slave ! 



• ^ <o fry ciiiicIii>ions 

JVilh one that hath coin.iieiicuil, and gone out doctor.) 
To try cnnr/iishns, a viry cuininoii fvprvs-iim, is, to try 
expriiiiifiits: " (JiKi lull) ilioiii," s.i\sG,il)riil Harvey, in liis 
thin! Iiltti-, -'11111 hive in illifr liiliility In lielpe, m,,- wit to 
pilif lliOiiiMlves, but wi'l iicicis trp conclusions btt» ct.-ii llieir 
heads ;iiiil ilie iiu\t wall." ('omincnctd,AU<\ gone out, \\\\\c\\ 
occur ill the iie\i line, are Universiiy terms, and lo be met 
with in must uf our old arainas : 



Tih. 'Twas in his fury. 

Steph. And he repents it, madam. 
Marc. Was I born 
To observe his humours ? or, because he dotes. 
Must 1 run mad ? 

Tib. If that your excellence 
Would please but to receive a feeling knowledge 
Of what he suffers, and how deep the least 
Unkindness wounds from you, you would excuse 
His hasty language. 

Steph. He hath paid the forfeit 
Of his offence, I'm sure, with such a sorrow, 
As, if it had been greater, would deserve 
A full remission. 

Marc. Why, perhaps, he hath it ; 
And I stand more afflitted for his absence, 
'J'hen he can be for mine : — so, pray you, tell him. 
But, till I have digested some sad thoughts, 
And reconciled passions that are at war 
Within myself, 1 purpose to be private. 
And have you care, unless it be Francisco, 
That no man be admitted. [i,'a;f Gentlewoman, 

Tib. How, Franciico! 

Steph. He, that at every stage keeps livery mis- 
The stalliop of the state ! [tresses; 

Tih. They are things above us, 
And so no way concern us. 

Steph. If I were 
The duke, (I freely must confess my weakness,) 

J-/iter. FnANCisco. 
I should wear yellow breeches*. Here he comes. 

Tib, Nay, spare your labour, lady, we know our 
And quit the room. [dutyt, 

Stejih. is this her privacy ! v 
Though with the hazard of a check, perhaps. 
This may go to the duke. 

[E.ieitnt Tiberio and Stephana 

Marc. Your face is full 
Of fears and doubts : the reason ? 

Fran. O best madam, 
They are not counterfeit. I, your poor convert, 
That only wish to live in siid repentance. 
To moyrn my desperate attemj)t of you, 
'I hat have no ends nor aims, but that your goodness 
Might be a witness of mv penitence. 
Which seen, would teacli vou how to love your mercy, 
Am robb'd of thai last hojie. The duke, the duke, 
I more than fear, hath found that I am guilty. 

Marc. By my unsjiotted honour, not from me; 
Nor have I with him changed one syllable. 
Since his return, but what you heard. 

Fran. Yet malice 
Is eagle-eyed, and would see that which is not ; 
And jealousy's too apt to build upon 
Unsure foundations. 

Marc. Jealousy ! 

Fran. [^Aside.] It tak- s. 



" How inanytliit liavr done ill, and proceed, 
Women that take dn/rers in wantoinio-', 
Commetice, and rise in iudiin»'iits oi lii.«i," &c. 

7'he Queen of Corinth. 
• I should wear yellow breeches] i e. Br le.diii* ; yellow^ 
with onr old poets, bring the livery ol' jealousy : lliis needs 
no example. 

i Nay, spare your labour, lady, we Imow onr dii'y. 
And quit the romn] Duty v/M i seited by Coxeter • 
that, or a word of siiinlir iiiip'iit, liavin'.; I)ieii dropt at the 
pres.s. Both the qn.iilos Imnc, Jtv />how our exit, with thii 
dirterence, that the l.'st (1038) exliibus exit, as here, in italic 
characters 



Scene III.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



8) 



Marc. Wlio dares but only think I can be tainted ? 
But for him, tlioiigh almost on certain proof. 
To give it liearing, not belief, deserves 
My liate for ever. 

Fran. VV liether s^rounded on 
Your noble, yef chaste favours shewn unto me ; 
Or her imprisonment, for her contempt 
To you, bv mv command, my frantic wife 
Hath put it in his head. 

Marc. Have I then lived 
So long;, now to be doubed ? Are my favours 
The themes of her discourse ? or what I do, 
That never trod in a susi)ected path, 
Subject to base construction ? Be undaunted ; 
For now, as of a creature that is mine, 
I rise up your protectress : all the grace 
I hitherto have done you, was bestow'd 
With a sliut hand ; it shall be now more free, 
Open, and liberal. But let it not. 
Though counterfeited to the life, teach you 
To nourish saucv hopes. 

Fran. IMay I be blasted, 
When 1 prove such a monster ! 

Mnre. I will stand then 
Between you and all danger. He shall know, 
Suspicion overturns what confidence builds ; 
And he that dares but doubt when there's no ground. 
Is neither to himself nor o'hers sound. [Exit. 

Fran. So, let it work ! Her goodness, that denied 
My service, branded with th^e name of lust, 
Shall now destroy itself; and she shall find, 
When he's a suitor, that brings cunning arm'd 
With power, to be his advocates, the denial 
Is a disease as killing as the plague, 
And chastity a clue that leads to death. 
Hold but tliy nature, duke, and be but rash 
And violent enough, and then at leisure, 
Repent ; I care not.. 

And let my plots produce this !ong'd-for birth, 
In my revenge I have my heaven on earth. [Exit. 



SCENE III. — Another Room in the tame. 
Enter Sforza, Pescara, and three Gentlemen. 

Pesc. You promised to be merry." 

1 Gent. There are pleasures. 

And ot all kinds, to entertain the time. 

2 Gent. Your excellence vouchsafing to make 
Of that which best affects you. [choice 

Sfor. Hold your prating. 
Learn manners too ; your are rude. 

3 Gent. I have my answer, 

Before I ask the question. [^Aiide, 

Pesc. I must borrow 
The privilege of a i'riend, and will ; or else 
I am like these, a servant, or, ghat's worse, 
A parasite to the sorrow Sforza worships 
In spite of reason. . 

.S/or. Pray you, use your freedom ; 
Ann so far, if you please, allow me mine, 
To hear vou ouly ; not to be conipell'd 
To take your moral potions. •! am a man, 
And, though philosopliv, your mistress, rage for't, 
Now 1 have cause to grieve, I must be sad ; 
And 1 d'lre shew it. 

Pesc. Would it were bestow'd 
Upon a worthier subject. 



Sfor. Take heed, friend! 
You rub a sore, vv!io»e pain will make me mad ; 
And I shall then forget myself and you. 
Lance it no further. 

Pesc. Have you s'ood the shock 
Of thousand enemies, and outfaced the anger 
Of a groat emperor, that vow'd your ruin. 
Though by a desperate, a glorious way, 
That had no precedent ? are you return'd with honour, 
Loved by your subjects? does your .fortune court 

vou. 
Or rather say, your courage does command it? 
Have you given proof, to this hour of your life. 
Prosperity, that searches the best temper, 
Could never puff you up, nor adverse fate 
Deject your valour ? Shall, 1 say, these virtues, 
So many and so various trials of 
Your constant mind, be buried in the frown 
(To please you, I will say so) of a fair woman; 
Yet I have seen her equals. 

Sfor. Good Pescara, 
This language in another were profane ; 
In you it is unmannerly. — Her equal ! 
I tell you as a friend, and tell you plainly, 
(To all men else my sword should make reply,) 
Her goodness does disdain comparison. 
And, hut herself, admits no parallel*. 
But you will say she's cross ; 'tis tit she should be, 
V\ hen I am foolish ; for she's wise, Pescara, 
And knows how far she may disi)ose her bounties. 
Her honour safe ; or, if she were adverse, 
'Twas a prevention of a greater siu 
Ixealy to fall upon me ; for she's not ignorant. 
But tiuly understands how much 1 love her. 
And that her rare parts do deseive all honour. 
Her excellence increasing with her years loo, 
1 mit;ht have fallen into idolatry, 
And, from the admiration of her worth. 
Been taught to think there is no Power above hei , 
And vet 1 do believe, had angels sexes. 
The most would be such women, and assume 
No other shape, when they were to appear 
In their full glory. 

Pesc. Well, sir, I'll not cross you. 
Nor labour to diminish your esteem, 
Hereafter, of her. Since your hajijiiness, 



• I li^ goodness does disdain comparison. 

And, but herself, admits no |mi.i1U-,.] Tlio reader who 
has any acqu.iintance willi tlie liteiai\ s(|iiiibl)lc!' ol the last 
ceiilii:y, cannot but recollect liow Theobald whs annoyed by 
the ie>is levelled at him lor this line in the Double Fatse- 
huod : 

" None but himself can be his parallel." 

He justified it, indeed, at some lent;lh ; but " it U not foi 
giavily," as Sir Toby well observes, " to play at elierry-pit 
with Satan ;" his waggish antagonists drove hini out of jiis 
patience, and he, who had every thing but wit on his side, 
is at lliis moment labouring under tlie cmiseipiences of hi» 
imatiined defeat. With respect to the pliase in question,'' 
j ia surticiently common; and I could piuduce, if it were nc- 
' cessary, twenty instances of it from Massingcr's contempo- 
raries alone : nor is it peculiar to this count ly, but exists in 
every language with which 1 am acquainted. Kven while I 
am writing this note, tlie following pretty example lie? 
belVne me, in the address of a grateful Hindoo to SirWilliaro 
Jones : 

" To you there are many like me ; yet to mc there is none 
like you, but yourself; there are nnmeions groves of night 
fl.mers; yet the night flower sees nothing U/,e the moon, but 
t/w moon A hundred chiefs rule the world, but thou art an 
ocean, and they are mere well-; many luminaries are awake 
in tlie sky, but which of them can be compared to the sun i" 
See Memoirs of his life, by Lord Teigninoulh. 



ss 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[Act IV 



As you will have it, has alone deperKlence 
Upon her favour, from my soul 1 wish you 
A fiiir atonement*. 

Sjoi-. 'Jinie, and my submission, 

Enter Tiderio and Stephano. 

May work her to it. — ! you are well retum'd ; 
Say- am 1 blest? hntli slie vouchsafed to hear you? 
Is there liope left that she may be appeased ? 
Let her propound, and gladly I'll subscribe 
To her conditions. 

Tib. She, sir, yet is froward. 
And desires respite, and some privacy. 

Steph She was harsh at first ; but ere we parted, 
Imphicahle. [seem'd not 

i'/or. There's comfort yet : I'll ply her 
Each hour with new ambassadors of more honours, 
Titles, and eminence : my second self, 
Francisco, shall solicit her. 

Sleph. That a wise man. 
And what is more, a prince that may command, 
Should sue thus poorly, and treat with his wife. 
As she were a victorious enemy. 
At whose proud feet, himself, his state, and country, 
Baselv beffo'd mercy ! 

Sjor. What is that you mutter? 
I'll have thy thoughts. 

Slejih. Vou shall. You are too fond. 
And feed a pride that's swollen too big already, 
And surfeits with observance. 

Sjor. O my patience! 
My vassal speak thus? 

Utefih. Let my head answer it, 
If I offend. She, that you think a saint, 
1 fear, may play the devil. 

Peso. Well said, old fellow. 

Steph. And he that hath so long engross'd your 
favours. 
Though to be named with reverence lord Francisco, 
Who, as you purpose, shall solicit for you, 
I thiuk's too near her. 

Pesi: Hold, sir ! this is madness. 

Stepli. It may be they confer of joining lardsbips ; 
I'm sure he's private with her. 

•S/or. Let me go, 
I scorn to-touch him ; he deserves mj' pity. 
And not my anger. Dotard ! and to be one 
Is thy protection, else tliou durst not think 
That love to my INlarcelia hath left room 
In my full heart for any jealous thought : — 
That idle passion dwell with thick-skinn'd trades- 
men t. 
The undeserving lord, or the unable ! 
Lock up thy own wife, i'ool, that must take physic 
From her young doctor, physic ujion her back j.. 
Because thou hast the palsv in that part 
That makes her active. 1 could smile to think 
What wretched things they are that dare be jealous: 
Were I match'd to another Messaline, 
While I found merit in myself to please her. 



• A fair atonement.] i. c. as Mr. M. Mason observes, a 
reconclli.iiion. To atone lias otten this sense in our old 
wiiiers : so Shakspeare : 

" He and Anii ,'ms can no more atone, 

Than violentest contrarieties." Coriolanus. 

t TfiaC idle passion dwell with, <Atc7i skinn'd tradesmen.] 
T'ftic'A-skinn'il is tlie reading of boili ilic qiMitos; the nioderu 
edit rs w.inlonly, and, I may add, i^^iior.iiitly, di:>placed it 
for thick ■■\(.\\\\' i\ . It is not to a want of iinderstaudiug, but 
to <! hluulne«s of fueling, tliat the speaker alludes. 



In this your studied purpose to deprave her ; 
And all the shot made by your foul detraction, 
Falling upon her sure-arm'd innocence, 
I should believe her chaste, and would not seek 
'J'o find out my own torment ; but, alas ! 
Enjoying one that, but to me, 's a Dian*, 
I am too "secure. 

Tib. This is a confidence 
Beyond example. 

Vnter Grt>»ccno, Isabella, and Mariana* 

Grac. Tliere he is — now speak. 
Or be for ever silent. 

Sjor. If you come 
To bring me comfort, say that you have made 
My jieace with my JMarcelia. 

hab. I had rather 
Wail on you to your funeral. 

Sjor. You are my mother : 
Or, by her life, you were dead else. 

Mari. Would you were, 
To your dishonour ! and, since dotage makes yoo 
Wilfullv blind, borrow of me my eyes. 
Or some part of my spirit. Are you all flesh ? 
A lump of patience only ? no fire in you ? 
But do your pleasure : — here your motlier was 
Committed bv your servant, (for I scorn 
To call him iiushand,) and mysplf, your sister. 
If that you dare remember such a name, 
Mew'd up, to make the way open and free 
For the adultress, I ara'unwilling 
To say, a part of Sf.-r/a. 

Sjor. 'lake her head off! 
She hath blas]ihem<'d ! and by our law must die 

Imb. I5lasp}:e:ned ! for calling of a whore, a whore t 

Sjor. O hell, what do 1 suffer ! 

Mari, Or is it treason 
For me, that am a subject, to endeavour 
To save the honour of the duke, and that 
He should not be a wiitol on record ? 
R)r bv posterity 'twill be believed. 
As certainly as now it can be proved, 
Francisco, the great minion that sways all, 
To meet the chaste embraces of the dutchess, 
Haih leap'd imo lier bed. 

Sjor. tioine proof, vile creature! 
Or thou hast sjjoke thy last. 

Mari. ihe jmblic fame. 
Their hourly private meetings; rnd e'en now, 
When, under a pretence of grief or anger, 
Y(.u are denied the joys due to a husband, 
And made a stranger to her, at all times 
The door stands open to him. To a Dutchman^ 
This were enough, but to a right Italian, 
A hundred tiiousand witnesses. 

hab. Would yi.u have us 

'I'o be her bawds? 
Sjor. O the malice 
And envy of ba.se \yomen, that, with horror. 
Knowing their own defects and inward guilt, 
■ Dare lie. and swear, and damn, for what's most false, 
To cast aspersions upon one untainted ! 
Ye are in your nature's devils, aud your ends. 
Knowing your reputations sunk for ever. 
And not to be recover'd, to have all 
Wear your black livery. Wretches ; you have raised 
A moiiumeutal trophy to her piireness, 



-that, hut to me, '» a Dian,] A coutrac 



lioa of Diana, M. Mason. Aud so it is I 



ScekeIII.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



83 



Returns upon yourselves ; and, if my love 

Could suft'er an addition, I'm so far 

From giving credit to you, this would teach me 

More to admire and serve her. You are not worthy 

To fall as sacrifices to appease her ; 

And therefore live till your own envy burst you. 

Jsah. All is in vain ) he is not to be moved. 

Man. She has bewitch'd him. 

Pesc. 'Tis so past belief, 
To me it shews a fable. 

Enter FnANxrsco, speaking too Servant within. 

Fran. On thy life, 
Provide my horses, and without the port 
With care attend me. 

Serv. [withiit.] I shall, my lord. 

Gi-ac. He's come. 
What gimcrack have we next* ? 

Fran. (Jreat sir. 

SJ'or. Francisco, 
Though all the joys in women arc fled from me, 
In thee I do embrace the full delight 
That I can hope from man. 

Fran. I would impart. 
Please you to lend your ear, a weighty secret, 
I am in labour to deliver to you. 

Sfor. All leave the room. Excuse me, good Pescara, 
Ere long I will wait on you. 

Pesc. You speak, sir, 
The language I should use. 

Sfor. Be within call, 
Perhaps we may have use of yoo. 

Tib. We shall sir. 

[Exeunt all but Sforsa and Francitco. 

Sfor. Say on, my comfort. 

Fran. Comfort ! no, your torment, 
For so my fate appoints me. I could curse 
The hour that jrave me being. 

Sfor. What new monsters 
Of misery stand ready to devour me 1 
Let them at once dispatch me. 

Fran. Draw your sword then. 
And, as you wish your own peace, quickly kill me ; 
Consii.er not, but do it. 

Sf'r. Art tliou mad 1 

Fran- Or. if to take my life be too much mercy. 
As death, indeed, concludes all human sorrows, 
Cut off my nose and ears ; pull out an eye. 
The other only left to lend me light 
To see my own' deformities. Why was I bom 
Without some mulct imposed on me by nature ? 
Would from my youth a loathsome leprosy 
Had run ujion this face, or that my breath 
Had been infectious, and so made me shunn'd 
Of all societies ! curs'd be he tliat taught me 
Discourse or manners, or lent any grace 
That makes the owner pleasing in the eye 
Of wanton women ! since those parts, which others 
V'^alue as blessings, are to me afHictions, 
Such my condition is. 



• irjiat gi:)Hrack have we twjri ?] It may be that Coxeter 
has hit iipiiii ilie right wor'l ; but Itiv first fyllaljle is oniilled 
in lh»- old copirs; V'""hably il was of an (Heusive tendency. 
Bcsidis llio It rror ol tlic law that hnn^ over llie pod's heail 
about rliis time, the Mast"r ofihe Wevils kept a ^c^lltini«ing 
ye upon ev. r> passage ot' an indiceiit (inderrnt lor ihe 
limes) "I pro'an. lenilency. It is Massin^er's ptcuUar praise^ 
♦hat be is altuiitllicr free Vrom the l.itler. 



Sfor. I am on the rack : 
Dissolve this doubtful riddle*. 

Fran. That I wlone. 
Of all mankind, tliat stand most bound to love yopi 
And study your content, should be appointed, 
Not by my will, but forced by cruel fate, 
To be your greatest enemy !— not to hold you 
In this amazement longer, in a word, 
Your dutchess loves me. ' 

Sfor. Loves thee 1 

Fran. Is mad for me. 
Pursues me hourly. 

Sfor. Oh ! 

Fran. And from hence grew 
Her late neglect of you. 

Sfor. O women! women! 

Fran. I labour'd to divert her by persuasion, 
Then urged your much love to her, and the danger; 
Denied her, and with scorn. 

Sfor. 'Twas like thyself. 

Fran. But when 1 saw her smile, then heard her 
say, 
Ydur love and extreme dortage as a cloak, 
Should cover our embraces, and your power 
Fright others from suspicion ; and all favours 
That should preserve her in her innocence. 
By lust inverted to be used as bawds ; 
I could not but in duty (though 1 know 
That the relation kills in you all hope 
Of peace hereafter, and in me 'twill shew 
Both base and [)Oor to rise up her accuser) 
Freely discover it. 

Sfor. Eternal plagues 
Pursue and overtake her ! for her sake, 
To all posterity may he prove a cuckold, 
And, like to me, a thing so miserable 
As words may not express him, that gives trust 
To all deceiving women ! Or, since it is 
The will of heaven, to preserve mankind, 
'Ihat we must know and couple with these serpents, 
No wise man ever, taught by my example. 
Hereafter use his wife with more respect 
Than he would do his horse that does him service; 
Base woman being in her creation made 
A slave to man. But, like a village nurse. 
Stand I now cursing and considering, when 
The tamest fool would do ! — Within there ! Stephano, 

Tiberio, and the rest. 1 will be sudden. 

And she shall know and feel, love in extremes 
Abused, knows no degree in hatef. 

Enter Tiherio and Stephano. 

Tib. My lord. 

Sfor. Go to the chamber of that wicked woman— 

Steph, What wicked woman, sir? 

Sjor. The devil, my wife. 
Force a rude entry, and, if she refuse 
To follow you, drag her hither by the hair. 
And kiiQW no ]iity ; any gentle usage 
To her will call on cruelty from me. 
To such as show it. — Stand you staring ! Go, 
And put my will in act. 

• Dissolve this doubtful riddle.] Our old writers nsed 
dJASo.'fe and solve indisciiminatcly ; or, if they made any 
ditluicnce, it was in lavoiir of the furmer : 

•< he is pointed at 

For tht' fine conrtier, the woman's man. 
That ttlls my lady stories, dissolves riddles." 

7 he Queen of rinrinth. 

t no degree in hate.] For no degree in hate, tb« 

modern editors very incorrectlv iea;l, no deyrte ol haie. 



84 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[Act V 



S'eph. There's no disputing. 

Tib. But 'tis a tempest on the sudden raised, 
Who durst have dream'd of? 

" \ Exenitt Tiberio and Stephana, 

Sfor. Nay, since she dares damnation, 
I'll be a fury to her. 

Fran. Yet, great sir, 
Kxceed not in your fury ; she's yet guilty 
Only in her intent. 

SJ'or. Intent, Francisco ! 
It does include all fact ; and I might sooner 
Be won to pardon treason to my crown, 
Or one tliat kill'd my father. 

Fran, ^'ou are wise, 
And know what's best to do ; — yet, if 3'ou please, 
To prove her temper lo the lieight. say only 
That I am dead, and then observe how far 
She'll be transported. I'll remove a little, • 
But be within your call. Now to the upshot? • 
Howe'er I'll sliift for one. [Exit. 

He-enter TiBEnio, Stepiiano, and Guard xeiih Mar- 

CELLA. 

Marc. Where is this monster, 
This walking tree of jealousy, this dreamer. 
This horned beast that woujd be? Oh! are you here. 
Is it by your commandment or allowance, [sir, 

I am thus baselv used ? Which of my virtues. 
My labours, services, and carts to ])lpase you, 
For, to a man suspicious and unthankful. 
Without a blush I may be mine own trumpet. 
Invites this barbarous course? dare you look on me 
Without a seal of shame? 

Sfor. Impudence, 
How uglv thou appear'st now ! thy intent 
To be a whore, leaves thee not blood enough 
To make an honest blush ; what had the act done? 

Marc. Return'd 1 hee the dishonour thou deservest. 
Though willingly I had given up myself 
To every common letcher. 

Sfor. Your chief minion, 
Your chosen favourite,' your woo'd Francisco, 
Has dearly paid for't ; for, wretch ! know, he's dead, 
And by my hand. 

Marc, 'i'he bloodier villain thou ! 
But 'tis not to be wondered at, thy love 
Does know no other object : — thou hast kill'd then, 
A man I do profess I loved ; a man 



For whom a thousand queens might well be rivals. 
But he, I speak it to thy teeth, that dares be 
A jealous fool, dares be a murderer, 
And knows no end in mischief. 

Sfor. I begin now 
In this my justice. [Staht her. 

Marc. Oh ! I have fool'd myself 
Into my grave, and only t;rieve for that 
Which, when you know you've slain an innocent. 
You needs must suffer. 

Sfor. An innocent ! Let one 
Call in Francisco, for he lives, vile creature, 

[Exit Stephana. 
To justify thy falsehood, and how often, 
With whorish flatteries thou hast tempted him ; 
I being only fit to live a stale, 
A bawd and property to your wantonness. 

He-enter Stephano. 

Steph. Signior Francisco, sir, but even now, 
Took horse without I he ports. 

Marc. We are both abused, 
And both by him undone. Stay, death, a little, 
Till I have clear'd me to my lord, and then* 
I willingly obey thee. O my Sforza ! 
Francisco was not tempted, but the tempter; 
And, as he thought to win me, shew'd the warrant 
That you sign'd for my death. 

Sfor. Then I believe thee ; 
Believe thee innocent too. 

Marc. But, hfiing contemn'd, 
Upon his knees with tears he did beseech me, 
Not to reveal it; I, soft-hearted fool. 
Judging his penitence true, was won unto it : 
Indeed, the unkindness to be sentenced by you, 
Before that I was guilty in a thought, 
Made me put on a seeming anger towards you, 
And now — behold the issue. As I do, 
May heaven forgive you ! ^Diei 

Tib. Her sweet soul has left 
Her beauteous prison. 

Steph. Look to the duke ; he stands 
As if he wanted motion. 

Tib. Grief .hath stoj)p'd 
The orgcin of his speech. 

Stcjih. Take up this body. 
And call for his physicians. 

Sfor, O my heart-strings ' ^Exeunt 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — The Milanese. A Room in Euojnia's 

House. 

Enter Francisco end Eugenia in male attire. 

Fran. Why, couldst thou think, Eugenia that 
rewards, 
Graces, or favours, though strew'd thick upon me. 
Could ever bribe me to forget mine honour? 
Or that I tamely would sit down, before 
I had dried these eyes still wet with shewers of tears. 
By the fire of mv revenge ? look up, my dearest ! 
For that jiroud t'air, that, thief-!ike, stejip'd between 
Thy promised hopes, and robb'd thee of a fortune 



Almost in thy possession, hath found. 

With horrid proof, his love, she thought her glorj", 

And an assurance of all happiness. 

But. hastened her sad ruin. 

Evg. Do not flatter 
A grief that is beneath it ; for, however 
The credulous duke to me proved false and cruel, 
It is impossible he could be wrought 



* Till J have clear'd me »o my lord, and then] This is tht 
reading oftlie first quarto: tlie siidiid, v>lii(!i isiliai tdllowed 
by tile modem edi ors, gives the line In this nnmttrieal 
manner: 

Till I have clear'd myself unto my lord, and then I 



Scene I.] 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



8* 



To look on her, hut with the eyes of dotage, 
And so to serve her. 

Frail. Such, indeed, I grant, 
The stream of his affection was, and ran 
A constant course, till I, with cunning malice, 
And yet I wrong my act, for it was justice, 
Made it turn backward ; and hate, in extremes, — 
(Love banish 'd from his lieart,) to fill the room : 
In a word, know the fair Marcelia's dead*. 

Eug. Dead! [you? 

Fran. And by Sforza's hand. Does it not move 
How coldly you receive it ! I expected 
The mere rebition of so great a blessing, 
Born proudly on the wings of sweet revenge. 
Would have call'd on a sacrifice of thanks. 
And joy not to be bounded or conceal'd, 
Vou entertain it vs'ith a look, as if 
You wish'd it were undone. 

Eng. Indeed I do : 
For, if my sorrows could receive addition, 
Her sad fate would increase, not lessen them. 
She never injured me, but entertain'd 
A fortune Imnibly ofl'er'd to her hand. 
Which a wise lady gladly would have kneel'd for. 
Unless you wOuld impute it as a crime, 
She was more fair than 1, and had discretion 
Not to deliver uj) her virgin fort, [tears?. 

Though strait besieged with flatteries, vows, and 
Until the cliuich had made it safe and lawful. 
And had I been the mistress of her judgment 
And constant temper, skilful in the knowledge 
Of man's njalieious falsehood, 1 had never. 
Upon liis liell-deep oaths to marry me. 
Given up my fair name, and my maiden honour. 
To his foul lust ; nor lived now, being branded 
In the foreliead for his whore, the scorn and shame 
Of all good women. 

Fran. Have you then no gall, 
Anger, or spleen, familiar to your sex ? 
Or is it possible that you could see 
Another to possess what was your due, 
And not grow pale with envy 1 

Eug. Yea, of' him 
That did deceive me. There's no passion, that 
A maid so injured, ever could partake of, 
But I have dearly sufi'er'd. These three years, 
In my desire and labour of revenge. 
Trusted to you, I have endured the throes 
Of teeming women ; and will hazard all 
Fate can inflict on me, but I will reach 
Thy heart, false Sforza ! You have trifled with mo. 
And not proceeded with that fiery zeal 
I look'd for from a brother of your spirit. 
Sorrow forsake me, and all signs of grief 
Farewell for ever. Vengeance, arm'd with fury. 
Possess me wholly now ! 

Fran, i he reason, sister, 
Of this strange metamorphosis ? 

Eug, Ask thy fears : 
Thy base, unnianl)- fears, thy poor delays. 
Thy dull forgrtfulness equal with death ; 
My wrong, else, and the scandal which can never 
Be wash'd off from our house, but in his blood. 
Would have stirr'd up a coward to a deed 
In which, though he had fallen, the brave intent 
Had crown'd itself with a fair monument 



• In a word, hmw {\\e fair Marcelia's dead.] Coxeterand 
Mr. M. M.ismi omit tlie article, whicb utterly destroys the 
rtiytlim of the line. q 



Of noble resolution. In this shape 

1 hope to get access ; and, then, with shame. 

Hearing my sudden execution, judge 

What honour thou hast lost, in being transcended 

By a weak woman. 

Fran. Still mine own, and dearer ! 
And yet in this you but pour oil on fire. 
And offer your assistance where it needs not. 
And, that you may perceive 1 lay not fallow. 
But had your wrongs stamp'd deeply or. my heart 
By the iron pen of vengeance, 1 attempted, 
By whoring her, to cuckold him : that failing, 
I did begin his tragedy in her death. 
To which it served as prologue, and will make 
A memorable story of your fortunes 
In my assured revenge : Only best sister. 
Let us not lose ourselves in the performance, 
By your rash undertaking ; we will be 
As sudden as you could wish. 

F.ug. Ujion those terms 
I yield myself and cause, to be disposed of 
As you think fit. 

Enter a Servant. 

Fran. Thy purpose ? 

Serv. There's one Graccho, 
That follow'd you, it seems, upon the track, 
Since you left Milan, that's importunate 
To have access, and will not be denied ; 
His haste, he .says, concerns you. 

Fran. Bring him to me. [F.rii Servant, 

Tliougli he hath laid an ambush for my life. 
Or a])prehen.sion, yet I will prevent hmi. 
And work mine own ends out. 



Enter Graccho. 



Grac. Now for : 



whi 



ppi 



And if I now outstrip him not, and catch him. 

And bv a new and strange way too, hereafter 

I'll swear there are worms in mv brains. [^Aside. 

Fran. Now, my good Graccho ; 
We meet as 'twei'e by miracle. 

Giac, Love, and duty. 
And vigilance in me for my lord's safety. 
First taught me to imagine you were here, 
And then to follow you. All's come fortli. my lord, 
That you could v\ ish conceal'd. The dutchess' 

wound, 
In the duke's rage put home, yet gave her leave 
To acquaint him with your practices, which your 
Did easily <oiifirm. [flight 

Fran. This I expected ; 
But sure vou come j)rovided of good counsel. 
To help in my extremes. 

Grac. I would not hurt you. [death ; 

Fian, How! hurt me? such another word's thy 
Why, dar'st thou think it can fall in thy will. 
To outlive what I determine ? 

Grac. How he awes me ! [Atidt. 

Fran. Be brief; what brought thee hither 1 

Grac. Care to inform you 
You are a condemn'd man, pursued and sought for, 
And your head rated at ten thousand ducats 
To him that brings it. 

Fran. \'ery good. 

Grac. All passages 
Are intercepied, ami choice troops of horse I* 

Scour o'er the neighbour, plains ; your picture sent 
To every stale confederate with Milan : 
That, though I grieve to speak it, in my judgment. 



86 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



[ActV 



So thick your dangers meet, and run upon you. 
It is impossible you should escape 
Their curious search. 

Eug. Wliv, let us then turn Romans, 
And, fallinp: by t)ur own hands, mock their threats. 
And dreadful preparations. 

Fran. ' Twould show nobly ; 
But that the honour of our full revenge 
Were lost in the rash action. No, Eugenia, 
Gracelio is wise, my friend too, not my servant, 
And I dare trust him with my latest secret. 
We would, and thou must help us to perform it, 
First kill the duke — then, fall what can upon us ! 
For injuries are writ in brass, kind Graccho, 
And not to be forgotten. 

Grac. He instructs me [Aside, 

What I should do. 

Fran. What's that? 

Grac. I labour with 
A strong desire to assist you with my service ; 
And now I am deliver'd oft. 

Fran. 1 told you. 
Speak, my oraculous Graccho. 

Grac. i have heard, sir, 
Of men in debt that, lay'd for by their creditors, 
'in all such places where it could be thought 
They would take shelter, chose, for sanctuary. 
Their lodgings underneath their creditors' noses, 
Or near that prison to which they were design'd, 
If apprehended ; confident that there 
They never should be sought for. 

Eug. 'I'is a strange one ! 

Fran. But what infer you from itl 

Grac. This, my lord ; 
That, since all ways of your escape are stopp'd. 
In Milan only, or, what's more, in the court, 
Whither it is presumed you dare not come 
Conceal'd in some disguise, you may live safe. 

Fran. And not to be discover'd ? 

Grac. But bv myself. [Graccho, 

Fran. By thee ! Alas ! I know thee honest 
And I will put thy counsel into act. 
And suddenly. Yet, not to be ungrateful 
For all tliy loving travail to preserve me. 
What bloody end soe'er my stars appoint, [there? 
Thou shalt be safe, good Graccho. — Who's within 

Grac. In the devil's name, what means he* ! 
Enter Servants. 

Fran. Fake my friend 
Into your custody, and bind him fast ; 
I would not part with him. 

Grac. My good lord. 

Fran. Dispatch : 
Tis for your good, to keep you honest, Graccho : 
I would not have ten thousand ducats tempt you. 
Being of a soft and wax-like disposition, 
To play the traitor ; nor a fooli.->h itch 
To he revenged for your late excellent whipping. 
Give you the opportunity to offer 
My head for satisfaction. Why, thou fool ! 
I can look through and through thee ; thy intents 
Appear to me as written in thy forehead 
In plain and easy characters : and but that 

• Grac. /n the devil's name, what means he!] The second 
quarto omits the adjuration and tamely rva(is,~tohat means 
heT The licenser, in many cases, seems to have acted ca- 
priciously : here, as well as in sevcriil other places, he has 
Ktraiiied at a gnat and swallowed a camel. The f :presma 
bas already uccarred iv iht Unnatural Combat. 



I scorn a slave's base blood should ru^t that sword 
That from a prince expects a scarlet die, 
Thou now wert dead ; but live, only to pray 
For good success to crown my undertakuigs ; 
And then, at my return, perhaps I'll iree thee, 
To make me further sport. Away with him ! 
I will not hear a syllable. 

[Eieunt Servants loith Graccho. 
We must trust 
Ourselves, Eugenia ; and though we make use of 
The counsel of our servants, that oil spent, 
Like snuffs that do offend, we tread them o it.— 
But now to our last scene, which we'll so carry, 
That few shall understand how 'twas begun. 
Till all, with half an eye, may see 'tis done. 

Exeitnt. 



SCENE IL— Milan. A Room in the Castle, 
Enter Pescara, Tiberio, and Stephano. 

Pesc. 'I he like was never read of. 

Steph. In my judgement, 
To all that shall bj^t hear it, 'twill appear 
A most impossible fable. 

Tib. For Francisco, 
My wonder is the less, because there are 
Too many precedents of unthankful men 
Raised up to greatness, which have after studied 
The ruin of their makers. 

Steph. But that melancholy, 
Though ending in distraction, should work 
So far upon a man, as to compel him 
To court a thing that has nor sense nor being, 
Is unto me a miracle. 

Pesc. 'Troth, I'll tell you, 
And briefly as I can, by what degrees 
He fell into this madness. When, by the care 
Of his physicians, he was brought to life. 
As he had only pass'd a fearful dreanii 
And had not acted what I grieve to think on, 
He call'd for fair Marcelia, and being told 
That she was dead, he broke forth in extremes, 
(I would not say blasphemed,) and cried that 

heaven. 
For all the offences that mankind could do. 
Would never be so cruel as to rob it 
Of so much sweetness, and of so much goodness ; 
That not alone was sacred in herself, 
But did preserve all others innocent. 
That had but converse witli her. Then it came 
Into his fancy that she was accused 
By his mother and his sister ; thrice he curs'd them 
And thrice his desperate hand was on his sword 
T'have kill'd them both ; but he restrain'd, and thej 
Shunning his fury, spite of all prevention 
He would have turn'd his rage' upon himself; 
When wisely his physicians looking on 
The dutchess' wound, to stay his ready hand. 
Cried out, it was not mortal. 
Tib. 'Twas well thought on. 
Pesc. He easily believing what he wish'd, 
More than a perpetuity of pleasure 
In any object else ; flatter'd by hope. 
Forgetting his own greatness, he fell prostrate 
At the doctor's feet, implored their aid, and swore, 
Provided they recover'd her, he would live 
A private man, and they should share his dukedom. 
They seem'd to promise lair, and every hour 
Vnrv their judgments, as they find his fit 



Scene III.] • 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



8^ 



To suffer intermission or extremes : 
For his behiiviour since 

Slor. [within.] As you have pity, 
Su])port lier geii'ly. 

Peso. Now, be vour own witnesses ; 
T am prevented. 

Enter SionzA, Isabeixa, Mariava, Doctors and 
Servants with the Boili/ of JMarcelia. 

Sfor. Carefully, I beseech you, 
The gentlest toucli torments her ; and then think 
What I shall suffer. O you earthly gods, 
Yoi; second natures, that from your great master, 
Who join'd the limbs of torn Hippolitus, 
And drew upon iiimself the Thunderer's envy, 
Are taught those hidden secrets that restore 
To life death-wounded men ! you have a patient, 
On whom to express the excellence of art, 
Will bind even heaven your debtor, though it pleases 
To make vour hands the organs ©fa work 
The saints will smile to look on, and good angels 
Clap their celestial wings to give it plaudits. 
How pale and wan ^he looks ! O pardon me, 
Tliat I presume (died o'er with bloody guilt, 
Wliich makes me, I confess, far, far unworthy) 
To touch this snow-white hand. How cold it is ! 
This once was Cupid's fire-brand, and still 
'Tis so to me. How slow her pulses beat too ! 
Yet, in this temper, she is all perfection, 
And mistress of a heat so full of sweetness, 
The blood of virgins, in their pride of youth. 
Are balls of snow or ice compared unto her. 

Mtiri. Is not this strange? 

Isiib. Oh ! cross him not, dear daughter ; 
Our conscience tells us we have been abused, 
W rought to accuse the innocent, and with him 
Are guilty of a fact 

Enter a Servant, and whisperi Pescara. 

Mini. 'Tis now past help. 

Fesc. With me? What is he? 

Serv. He has a strange aspect ; 
A Jew by birlh, and a physician 
Hv Ills profession, as he says, who, hearing 
Of the duke's frenzj', on the forfeit of 
His life will undertake to render him 
Perfect in every part : — provided that 
Your lordship's favour gain him free access, 
And your power with the duke a safe protection, 
Till the great work be ended. 

Peso. Bring me to him ; 
As I find cause, ril do. [Exeunt Pesc. and Serv, 

Sfor. How sound she sleeps ! 

Heaven keep her from a lethargy! How long 

'But answer me with comfort, I beseech you) 
Does your sure judgment tell you, that these lids. 
That cover richer jewels than themselves. 
Like envious night, will bar these glorious suns 
From shining on me ? 

1 Uoct. V^'e have given her, sir, 

A sleepy ])otion, that will hold her long, 
That she may be less sensible of the torment 
The searching of her wound will put her to. 

2 Doct. She now feels little ; but, if we should 
wake her, 

To hear Jier speak would fright both us and you, 
And therefore dare not hasten it. 

Sfor. 1 am patient. 
You see I do not rage, but wait your pleasure. 
What do you think she dreams of now ? for sure, 



Allhouuh her body's organs are bound fast, 
Her fancy cannot slumber. 

1 Doct. That, sir, looks on 
Your sorrow for your late rash act, with pity 
Of what you suffer for it, and prepares 
To meet the free confession of your guilt 
With a glad pardon. 

Sfor. She was ever kind ; 
And her displeasure, though call'd on, short-lived 
Upon the least submission. O you Powers, 
That can convey our thoughts to one another 
Without the aid of eyes or ears, assist, me! 
Let her behold me in a pleasing dream 
Thus, on mv knees before her ; (yet that duty 
In me is not sufficient ;) let her see me 
Compel my mother, from whom I took life. 
And this my sister, partner of my being, 
To bow thus low unto her ; let her hear us 
In my acknowledgment freely confess 
That we in a degree as high are guilty 
As she is innocent. Bite your tongues, vile creatures, 
And let your inward horrour fright your souls, 
For having belied that pureness, to come near which 
All women that posterity can bring forth 
Must be, tliough striving to be good, poor rivals. 
And for that dog Francisco, that seduced me, • 

In wounding her, to rase a temple built 
To chastity and sweetness, let her know 
I'll follow him to hell, but I wUl find him, 
And there live a fourth fury to torment him. 
Then, for this cursed hand and arm, that guided 
The wicked steel, I'll have them, joint by joint, 
With burning irons sear'd off, which I will eat, 
I being a vulture fit to taste such carrion ; 
Lastly 

1 Doct. You are too loud, sir ; you disturb 
Her sweet repose. 

Sfor. I am hush'd. Yet give ug leave, 
Thus prostrate at her feet, our eyes bent downwards, 
Unworthy and ashamed, to look upon her, 
To expect her gracious sentence. 

^ Doct. He's past hope. 

1 Doct.. 'J he body too will putrify, and then 
We can no longer cover the imposture. 

Tib. Which in his* death will quickly be dis- 
I can but weep his fortune. [cover'd. 

Sleph. Yet be careful 
You lose no minute to preserve him ; time 
May lessen his distraction. 

Re-enter Pescara, with Francisco as a Jew aridj 
Eugenia disguised. ' 

Fran. I am no god, sir. 
To give a new life to her ; yet I'll hazard 
My head, I'll work the senseless trunk t' appear 
To him as it had got a second being. 
Or that the soul that's fled from't, were call'd back 
To govern it again. I will preserve it 
In the first sweetness, and by a strange vapour, 
Which I'll infuse into her mouth, create 
A seeming breath ; I'll make her veins run high.to© 
As if they had true motion. 

Pesc. Do but this, 
Till we use means to win upon his passions 
T'endureto hear she's dead with some small patience. 
And make thy own reward. 



• Tib. ff hick in liis death will quickly be dlncover'd. I 
know not (mw tlie modern editor? undersiood lln.- Imc, but 
for hit, they read, her death: a strange sopliistic.Uioji ' 



dB 



THE DUKR OF MILAN. 



[AcrV 



Fran. The art I use 
Admits no looker on : I only ask 
The fo\irth part of an hour to perfect that 
I boldly iinderrake. 

Pesc. 1 will procure it. 

2 Doct. What stranfjer's this? 

Pesc. Sooth me in all I say ; 
There is a main end in't. 

Fran. Beware ! 

Fug. I am warn'd, 

Pesc. Look up, sir. cheerfully ; comfort in me 
Flows stronsrly to you. 

Sfor. From whence came that sound ? 
Was it from my Marcelia? If it were, 
I rise, and joy will give me winos to meet it, 

Pesc. Nor shall your expectation be deferr'd 
But a few minutes. Your physicians are 
Mere voice, and no performance ; I have found 
A man that can do wonders. Do not hinder 
The dutchess' wish'd recovery, to enquire 
Or what he is, or to give thanks, but leave him 
To work this miracle. 

Sfor. Sure, 'tis my good angeL 
1 do obey in all things ; be it death 

for any to disturb him, or come near, 
ill he be pleased to call us. O, be prosperous. 
And make a duke thy bondman ! 

[E.ie«;i( all but Francisco and Eugenia, 

Fran. 'Tis my purpose ; 
If that to fall a long-wish'd sacrifice 
To my revenge can be a benefic. 
I'll first make fast the doors ;— so ! 

Eiig. You amaze me : 
What follows now ? 

Fran. A full conclusion 
Of all thy w ishes. Look on this, Eugenia, 
Even such a thing, the proudest fair on earth 
('For whose delight the elements are ransack'd, 
And art with nature studied to preserve her,) 
Must be, when she is summon'd to appear 
In the court of death. But I lose time. 

Eug. What mean you ? 

Fean. Disturb me not. Your ladyship looks pale ; 
But I, vour doctor, have a ceruse for you. 
See, my Eugenia, how many faces, 
That are adorned in court, borrow these helps, 

[ Paints the cheehs. 
And pass for excellence, when the better part 
Of them are like to this. Your mouth smells sour 
Biit here is that shall take away the scent ; [too, 
A precious antidote old ladies use, [rotten. 

When they would kiss, knowing their gums are 
These hands too, that disdain'd to take a touch 
From any lip, whose owner writ not lord, 
Are now but as the coarsest earth ; but I 
Am at the charge, my bill not to be paid too. 
To give them seeming beauty. So ! 'tis done. 
How (io you like my workmanship ? 

Eng. 1 tremble : 
And thus to tyrannize upon the dead 
Is most inhuman. 

Fran. Come we for revensre, 
And can we think on pity? Now to the upshot, 
And, as it proves, applaud it. My lord the duke. 
Enter with joy, and see the sudden change 
Your servant's hand hath wrought. 

lie-enter Sforza and the rest, 
Sfor. I live again 



In my full confidence that Marcelia may 
Pronounce my pardon. Can she speak yet? 

Fran. No : 
You must not look for all your joys at once , 
That will ask longer time. 

Pesc. 'Tis wondrous strange ! 

Sfor. By all the dues ot love I have had from her, 
This hand seems as it was when first I kiss'd it 
These lips invite too : I could ever feed 
U])on these roses, they si ill keep their colour 
And native sweetness : only the nectar's wanting. 
That, like the morning dew in flowery May, 
Preserved them in their beauty. 

Enter Graccho haslily. 

Grac. Treason, treason '. 

Tib. Call up the guard. 

Fran. Graccho! then we are lost. 

Grac. I am got off, sir Jew ; a bribe hath done it. 
For all your serious charge ; the'-e's no disguise 
Can keep you from my knowledge. 

Sfor. Speak. 

Grac. I am out of breath, * 
But this is 

Fran. Spare thy labour, fool, — Francisco *. 

All. !\Ionster of men ! 

Fran. Give me all attributes 
Of all vou can imagine, yet I glory 
'I'o be the thing I was born. I am Francisco; 
Francisco, that was raised by you, and made 
The minion of the time ; the same Francisco, 
That would have whored this trunk, when it had life, 
And, after, breathed a jealousy upon thee, 
As killing as those damps that belch out plagues 
When the foundation of the earth is shaken: 
I made thee do a deed heaven will not pardon. 
Which was — to kill an innocent. 

Sfor. Call forth the tortures 
For all that flesh can feel. 

Fran. I d ire the wor=t : 
Onlv, to yield some leason to the world 
Why I pursued this course, look on this face. 
Made old by thy base falsehood ; 'tis Eugenia. 

Sjhr. pjugenia ! 

Fran. Does it start you, sir? my sister, 
Seduced and fool'd by thee : but thou must pay 
'l"he forfeit of thy falsehood. Does it not work yet •' 
Whate'er becomes of me, which' I esteem not, 
i hou art mark'd for the grave: I've given thee 

poison 
In this cup*, (now observe me,) which thy last 
Carousing deejdy of, made thee forget 
Thy vow'd faith to Eugenia. 

Pesc. damn'd villain ! 

Jsab. How do you, sir? 

SJhr. Like one 
That learns to know in death what punishment 
Waits on the breach of faith. Oh ! now 1 feel 



• Fran. Spare thy labour, fool, — Francisco.] Fr:incisco'» 
bold avowal of his guilt, with an emphatical repetition of his 
name, am! the enumeration of his several acts of villainy, 
wliicli lie ji'.stiiies from a spirit of revenge, in all probability 
gave rise to one of the most animated scenes in dramatic 
poetry. The reader will easily see, that I refer to the last 
act of Dr. Yoiiiiij's Revenge, -.vhere Zanaa, like Francisco, 
defends every criiel and trrtcheroas act lie has cuininitlcd 
from a principle of <ltep resentment. Davies. 

+ I've yiven thee poison 

In (his cup, &c.] i. e. in the lips of Marcelia. This is n 
terrible scene, and has the air of being taken from some 
Itali in story. 



Scene II.") * 



THE DUKE OF MILAN. 



a. 



An JEtnvL in my entrails. — 1 have lived 
A prince, and my last breath shall be command. 
— I burn, I burn ! vet ere life be consumed, 
Let me pronounce upon this wretch all torture 
That witty cruelty can invent. 

Pesr. Away with him ! 

Tib. In all things we will serve you. 

Fran. Farewell, sister ! 
Now I have kept my word, torments I scorn : 
I leave the world w'ith glory. They are men, 
And leave behind them name and memory, 
That wrong- 'd, do right themselves before they die. 
l^Exeunt Guard with Francisco, 

Steph. A desperate wretch ! 

Sfor. 1 come ; Death ! I obey thee. 



Yet I will not die raging ; for, alas ! 

My whole life was a frenzy. Good Eugenia, 

In death forgive me. — As you l>)ve me, bear her 

To some religious house, there let her s]/end 

The remnant of her life : when I am ashes, 

Perhaps she'll be appeased, and sjjare a prayer 

For my poor soul. Bury me with JVIarcelia, 

And let our epitaph be [Di«i 

Tib. His speech is stopt. 

Steph. Already dead 1 

Pesc. It is in vain to labour 
To call him back. We'll give him funeral. 
And then determine of the state art'airs : 
And learn, from this example, There's no trust 
In a foundation tliat is built on lust, [Eaeuntf . 



• Mr. M. Mason, contr.iry to liis custom, has jjiven an 
account of litis play ; but it is too loose and unsalislactory to 
be presented to tlie reader. He has observeil, indeed, what 
could not easily be missed, — the beauty of the lan!;uai;e, the 
elevation of the sentiments, the interesting nature of the 
•ituatioris, &c. But the interior motive of the piece,— the 
spring of action from wliicii the traijic events are made to 
flow,— seems to have utterly escaped him. He has taken 
the accessory for the primary passion of it, and, upon liis 
own erri'r, founded a comparison between the Duke of 
Milan and OthfUo.— 'Rwi. let us hear Massinger himself. 
Fearing that, in ■* reverse of fortune, his wife may fall into 
the po-session of another, Sfor/.a gives a secret order for her 
murder, and aCt'ibutes his resolution to the excess of his 
auachment: 

•* 'Tis more than love to her, that marks her out 
A wish'd companion to nie in both fortunes." 

Act I. so. ill. 
This is carefully remembered in the conference between 
Alarcelia and Francisro, and connected with the feelings 
which it ofcas-ions in her: 

"■ that my lord, itiy Sforza, should esteem 

-My lite tit only as a paae, to wail on 

The vaiioiis course ff his uncertiin fortunes; 

Or clieri>h in himself tliat sensual hope. 

In death to know me as a wife, afflicts me." 

Act III. !c. ii. 

flpon lliis disapprobation of his selfisli motive, is founded 
her reserve towards him, — a reserve, however, more allied 
to tenderness ihan 10 anger, aiid meant as a pruilent collec- 
tive of his unreasonable desires An^ from this reserve, ill 
inlerpieltd by Sforza, proceeds that jealousy of his in the 
fourth aci, which Mr. M. Mason will liave lo be the ground 
work of ihe whole subject I 

Bill if Massinger must be compared wilh somebody, let it 
be wi'ii lliln^ell : for, as the reader will hy and by perceive, 
the Diikf nf Milan has more substanlial connexion with the 
Picture ihaii with Othelln. In his nxorioiisness,— his doting 
entreaties of hi^ wife't 'favours, — his abject reducsls of the 



mediation of others for hiin, &c. &c. Sforza stn'iigly resem- 
bles Ladislaus ; while the friendly and bold reproofs of his 
fondness by Pescara and Stephano prepare us tortile rebukes 
afterwards employed against the same failing by ihe intrepid 
kindness of Enbiiliis. And not only do we find this similarity 
in some of the leading sentiments of the two plays, bat 
occasionally the very language of the one is carried into (he 
other. 

As to the action itself of this piece, it is highly animating 
and interesting; and its connexion, at the very opening, witw 
an important passage of history, procures for it at once a 
decideil attention. I'his is, for the most part, well maintained 
by strong and rapid alternalions of fortune, till Ihe catastrophe 
is matured by the ever-working vengeance of Francisco. 
Eve.i here, the author h^s contrived a novelty of intereot 
little expected by Ihe reader: and the late appearance of th« 
injured Eugenia throws a fresh emotion into tlie conclu-ion 
of ll'e play, while it explains a considerable part of the plot, 
witli which, indeed, it is e«senti-'lly connecte'i 

The cliaracler of Sforza himself is strongly conceived. 
His passionate fondness for Marcelia, — his sudden rage at her 
apparenit coolness, — his resolute renunciation of her,— his 
speedy repemance and fretful impatience of her absence, — 
his vehement defence of her innocence,— his quick and 
destructive vengeance against lier, upon a false asseriion ol 
herdishonour, — and his pro«tialions ami mad embraces of her 
de/id boily, — shew the force of dotage and hate in their ex- 
tremes. His actions are wild and iingoverned, and his whole 
life is (as he says) made up of frenzy. 

One important lesson is to be drawn from the principal 
feature of this character. From Sforza's ill-regiilated fond- 
ness for Marcelia Hows his ow^ order for her murder. The 
discovery of it occasions tlie distant behaviour ot the wife, 
the revenge of the husbalid, and the de.itli oi both. — Let ne 
use the blessings of life with modesty and thankfulness. He 
who aims at intemperate gratitications, disturbs the order of 
Providence; and, in the premature los> of the object which 
he too fondly covets, is made to feel the just punishment of 
unreasonable wishes, and ungoverned indulgence. Db. 



THE 

BONDMAN. 

The Bondman.] Hitherto we have had no clue to guide us in ascertaining the true date of these dramas. 
The fortunate discovery of Sir Henry Herbert's Office-book enables us, from this period, to proceed with 
avery degree of certainty." 

The Bondman was allowed by the INIaster of the Revels, and performed at the Cockpit in Drury Lane, on 
the third of December, 1623. It was printed in the following year, and again in 1638. This edition is full 
of errors, which I have been enabled to remove, by the assistance of the first copy, for which I am indebted 
to the kindness of Mr. Malone 

This ancient story (for so it is called by Massinger) is founded on the life of Timoleon the Corinthian, as 
recorded by Plutarch. The revolt and subsequent reduction of the slaves to their duty, is taken from Hero- 
dotus, or, more probably, from Justin*, who repeats the tale. The tale, however, more especially the catas- 
trophe, is triflino- enough, and does little honour to tliose who invented, or those who adopted it; but tlie 
beautiful episode here founded upon it, and which is entirely Massinger's own, is an inimitable jjiece of an. 

This is one of ihe few plays of Massinger that have been revived since the Restoration. In 16()0 it was 
brouo-ht on the stage bv Betterton, then a young man, who played, as IJownt-s the prompter informs us, the 
part of Pisander, for which nature liad eminently qualified him. It was again performed at Drury Lane in 
1719, and given to the press with a second title of Love and Liberty, and a few insignificant alterations; and 
in 1779 a modification of it was produced by Mr. Cumberland, and played for a few nights at Covent 
Gx^den, but, as it appears, with no extraordinary encouragement. It was not printed. 



RIGHT HONOURABLE, MY SINGULAR GOOD LORD, 

PHILIP EARL OP MONTGOMERY, 

KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &c. 

Eight Honourable, 
However I could never arrive at the happiness to be made known to your lordship, yet a desire, born with 
me, to make a tender of all duties and service to the noble family of the Herberts, descended to me as an 
inheritance from my dead father, Arthur IMassingerf. Many years he happily spent in the service of your 
honourable house, and died a servant to it; lenving hist to be ever most glad and ready, to be at the com- 
mand of all such as derive themselves from his most honoured master, your lordship's most noble fatlier. 
Tlie consideration of this encouraged me (having no other means to present my humblest service to your 
honour) to shroud this triHe under the wings of your noble protection ; and I hope, out of the clemency ot 
your lieroic disposition, it will find, though perhaps not a welcome entertainment, yet, at the worst, a gracious 
pardon. When it was first acted, your lordship's liberal suffrage taught others to allow it for current, it 
having received the undoubted stamp of your lordships allowance : and if in the perusal of any vacant liour, 
when your honour's more serious occasions shall give you leave to read it, it answer, in your lordship's 
judgment, the report and opinion it had uoon the stage, I shall esteem my labours not ill employed, and, while 
I live, continue 

the humblest of those that 

truly honour vour lordship. 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



• It may, indeed, be liikcn from hii account of Russia in PuTchas's Pilgrims, a book liiat formid the delight of our 
■ancestors. Then' it is ?aid, ili.it the Roiards of Noviurogod reduced their slaves, vho liad seized the town, by the whip, just 
as the Scythiiins arc said to h.ive done iheirs. 

+ My deai father, kvlUnv Massinyer.] So reads the first edition. The modern editors follow Ihe second, whtch has 
Philii) Massiiiuer. See the In loducii' n. 

+ Leaving hfs to he ever most glad, &c.] So it stands in both the old quarto?, and in Coxeter. Mr M. M:ison, without 
amlimity. and indeedwitliout reason, inserts aori after hit: but the dedication, a3 j;iven by him, and his predecessor, after 
the .'■icoiid qui;rto, is full ot errors. 



6oBNB I.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



91 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



TiMOLEON, the general, of Corinth 

AjEifiiunAMus, prcctor of Syracusa. 

DiPHiLus, a senator o/' Syracusa. 

Cleon, afat impotetit lord. 

PiSANDEn, a gentleman of Tliebes ; disguised as a 

slave, named MaruUo. (The Bondman.) 
PoLiPuno's, friend to Pisander ; aUo disguised as a 

slave. 
Leosthenes, a gentleman of Syracusa, enamoured of 

Cleora. 
AsoTUS, a foolish lover, and the son of Cleon. 
TiMAGOKAS, the son of Archidamus. 



GnACCULO, 
CiMBRIO, 

A Gaoler. 



I $lavet. 



Cleora, dav ghter nf Archidnmus. 

CoRiscA, a proud wanton lady, wife to Cleon. 

Oly.mpia, a rich widow. 

Statilia, sister to Pisander, slave to Cleora, mimed 

Timandra. 
Zanthia, slave to Corisca. 



Other slaves, Officers, Senators. 
SCENE, Syracuse, and the adjacent countrj'. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — The Camp ofTimoleon, near Syracuse. 
Enter Timagoras and Leosthenes. 

Timag. Why sliould _vou droop, Leosthenes, or 
despair 
My sister's favour 1 What before you purchased 
]5y courtship and lair languan^e, in these wars 
(For from her soul you know she loves a soldier) 
You may f'eserve by action, 

Leost. Good Timiigoras, 
When I have said my friend, think all is spoken 
That may assure me yours ; and pray you believe, 
The dreadi'ul voice of war that shakes the city, 
The tliunderins; threats of Carthage, nor their army, 
Raised to m.ike "ood those threats, affright not me. — 
If fair Cleora were confirm'd his prize, 
That has the strongest arm and sharpest sword, 
I'd court Bellona in her horrid trim, 
As if slie were a mistress ; and bless fortune, 
That oft'i rs my young ^'alour to the proof, 
How much I dare do for your sister's love. 
But, when that I consider how averse 
Your noble father, great Archidamus, 
Is, and hath ever been, to my desires. 
Reason may warrant me to doubt and fear. 
What seeds soever I sow in these wars 
OF noble courage, his determinate will 
May blast and give my harvest to another, 
'j'hat never toil'd for it. 

Timug. Prithee, do not nourish [me, 

These jealous thoughts ; I am thine, (and pardon 
Though I repeat it,) thy Timagoras*, 
That, for thv sake, when the hold Tlieban sued, 
Far-fami'd Pisander, for my sister's love. 
Sent him disgraced and discontented home. 
I wrought my father then ; and I, that stopp'd not 
In the ' areer of my affection to thee, 
When ihat renowned worthy, that, brought with himt 



• (and pardon me, 

Thoufih I repent it,) tliy Timagoras.] So tlie old copies. 
Wliat iiHliicfd llie niinWiii editors to make nonsense of tlie 
passac' . .tiid piint my heosihenes, 1 cannot even ^ness. 

t H'l I'H that renowned worthy, tliat, brnu(/ht with him] 
In tliis line .Mr. M. Mason omils tlie second that, wliich.he 
»ays " destiojs both sense and metre." 'I'he reduplication is 



High birth, wealth, courage, as fee'd advocates 
To mediate for him : never will consent 
A fool, that only has the shape of man, 
Asotus, though he be rich Cieon's heir, 
Shall bear her from thee. 

Leost. In that trust I love*. 

Timag. Which never shall deceive you. 

Enter Pisander. 

Pisan. Sir, the general, 
Timoleon, by his trumpets hath given warning 
For a remove. 

Timag. 'Tis well ; provide my horse. 

Pisan. I shall, sir. [Exit. 

Leost. This slave has a strange aspect. [knave : 

Timag. Fit for his fortune ; 'tis a strong-limb'd 
My father bought him for my sister's litter. 
O pride of women ! (loaches are too common — 
They surfeit in the happiness of peace. 
And ladies think they keep not state enough, 
If, for their pomp and ease, they are not born 
In triumph on men's shoulders f. 

Leost. Who commands 
Tiie Carthaginian fleet? 

Timag. Cisco's their admiral, 
And 'tis our happiness ; a raw young fellow, 
One never train'd in arms, but rather fashion'd 
To tilt with ladies' lips, than crack a lance ; 
Ravish a feather from a mistress' fan. 
And wear it as a favour. A steel helmet, 
Made horrid with a glorious plume, will crack 
His woman's neck. 

Leost. No more of him. — The motives. 
That Corinth gives us aid 1 

entirely in Massinger'siiianner,and assuredly destroys neither. 
With respect to the sense, lhat is enforced by it; and no 
very exquisite car is required, to perceive that the metre is 
improved.— How often will it be necessary to observe, that 
our old dramatists never counted their syllables on Ibeir 
fingers ? 

♦ Leost. In that trust I U>ve] iotre is the reading of both 
the quarlcs. In the modern editions it is nnneces-arily 
altered to fhte 

t M triumph on men's shovlders] Referring to the then 
recently intiodiicid scd.in-ch.iirs, which excited uiuch intlig 
natioii in Massinger's lime. 



92 



TJJ£ BONDMAN. 



[SCFNK III 



Timng. The common danger ; 
For Sifilv being- afire, sh- is not safe : 
It being apparent tliat ambitious Cartilage, 
That, to enlarge her empire, strives to fasten, 
An unjust gripe on us that live free lords 
Of Syracusa, will not end, till Greece 
Ackno\f ledge her their sovereign. 

Least. I am satisfit'd. 
What think you of our general'; 

Tiinag. lie's a man [Tnimpets sound. 

Of strange and reserved parts, but a great soldier*. 
His trumpets call us, I'll forbear his clinracter j 
To-morrow, in the senate-house, at large 
He will express himself. 

Least. I'll follow you.J [Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — Syracuse. A Room in Clean's House. 
Enter Cleon, Corisca, and Gracculo. 

Corh. Nay, good chuck. 

Cleon. I've ^aid it ; stay at home, 
I cannot brook your gadding ; you're a fair one, 
Beauty invites temptations^ and short heels 
Are soon tripp'd up. 

Coris. Deny me ! by my honour, 
You take no pity on me. I shall swoon 
As soon as you are absent ; asV my man else, 
You know he dares not tell a lie. 

Grac. Indeed. 
You are no sooner out of sight, but she [doctor, 
Does feel strange qualms ; then sends forheryouno- 
Who ministers physic to heron her back, 
Her ladvship Uing as she were entnuiced : 
(I've peep'd in at the keyhole, and observed them :) 
And sure his potions never fail to work, 
For she's so pleasant in the taking- them. 
She tickles again. 

Coi-is. And all's to make you merry. 
When you come home. 

Cleon. You flatter me : I'm old, 
And wisdom ci-ies. Beware. 

Coris. Old, duck ! To me 
You are a young Adonis. 

Grac. Well said, Venus ; 
I am sure she Vulcans him. 

Co-is. I will not change thee 
For twenty boisterous young things without beards. 
These bristles give the gentlest titillations. 
And such a sweet dew flows on them, it cures 
My lips without pomatum. Here's a round belly! 
'Tis a down pillow to my hack ; I sleep 
So quietly by it : and this tunable nose, 
Faith, when you hear it not, aft'oids such music. 
That I curse all night-fiddlers. 

Grac. This is gross. 
Not finils she flouts him ! 

Coris. As I live, 1 am jealous. 

Clean. Jealous of me, wife ? 

Coris. Yes ; and I have reason ; 
Knowing how lusty and active a man vou are. 

Cleon. Hum. hum! [will make him 

Grac. 'iliis is no cunning quean t ! slight, she 

• Tiniag. /fi''.i a man 

C!/"sti-itii5!f and reserved parts, but a yreat soldier.^ .Strange 
signifies lui-e distant. M. Mason. 

""1 do mil pivu-iid lo know ilie iite»n\n^ o( distant pHris. 
Masslniicr, liowever is cliMr onoiigh : s'r.iiijjc and reserved, 
in his laimii;i.jf, U, ftrani;cly (i. e. sinanlailj) reserved. 

t Grac. 'J'h's is no cunninji quean .'1 In our iinllidr's lime 
a is jii»ll> observed by W«rbuitoii, " tlie negative, in cuni- 



To think that, like a stag, he has cast his horns. 
And is grown young again. 

Coris. You have forgot 
What you did in your sleep, and, when you waked, 
Call'd for a caudle. 

Grac. It was in his .sleep ; 
For, waking, I durst trust my mother with him. 

Coris. I long to see the man of war : Cleora, 
Archidamus' daughter, goes, and rich Olympia; 
I will not miss the show. 

Clean. There's no contending: 
For this time I am pleased, but I'll no more on't. 

\_Exeunt: 

SCENE III. — The same. The Senate-house, 

Enter Archidamus, Cleon, Dirnii.us, Olysipia, 
CoRTscA, Cleora, and Zanihia. 

Archid. So careless we have been, my noble lords 
In the disposing of our own affairs. 
And ignorant in the art of government, 
That now we need a stranger to instruct us. 
Yet we are happy that our neighbour Corinth, 
Pitying the unjust gripe Carthage would lay 
On Syracusa, hath vouchsafed to lend us 
Her man of men, Timoleon, to defend 
Our country and our liberties. 

Diph. 'T'ls a favour 
We are unworthv of, and we may blush 
Necessity compels us to receive it. [nation 

Archid. O shame ! that we, that are a populous 
Engaged to liberal nature, for all ble>sings 
An island can bring forth ; we, tbat have limbs, 
And able bodies ; shipjiing, arms, and treasure, 
'I'he sinews of the war. now we are call'd 
To stand upon our guard, cannot jiroduce 
One fit to be our general. 

Cleon. I am old and fat ; . 
I could say something else. 

Archid. We must obey 
The time and our occasions ; ruinous buildings, 
Whose bases and foundations are infirm. 
Must use supporters : we -.ire circled round [wings, 
W'ith danger; o'er our heads with sail-slretch'tl 
Destruction liovers, and a cloud of mischief 
Re;idy to break upon us ; no'liope left us 
That may divert it, but our sleeping virtue. 
Roused up by brave 'J'imoleon. 

Clean. VV hen arrives he ? 

Diph, He is ex]iected every hour. 

Archid. The braveries* 
Of Syracusa, among whom my son 
'i'imagoras, '.eosthenes, and Asotus, 
Your hopeful heir, lord Cleon, two days since 
Rode forth to meet him, and attend him to 
The city ; every minute we expect 
To be bless'd with liis presence. 

[Shouts witliin ; then a Jlourish of trumpetu 

Clean. What shout's this ? 

Ition speech, was used iroiiic;illy lo express llie excess of 
tiling." Thus, in the li oman .A rior : 

" This is no llaltery !" 
And 3?ain, in the City Madam : 

" Here's no umss fi.itlti-y ! Will she swallow this.'" 
and in h thniisiiid oilier plares. 

• Arrhid. The hr.iveries 

Of Syracusa, &c ] i. e. the ynnn^ nobility, the gay and 
fishionable iiall.in'K <if the cily. Tlin.v Ch rinii'iit, in his de- 
scription of Sir Ainoi-oii« l,i Foide, ob-erves that '• he is one 
i>f tlie braveries, thou;;li he be none of the wils." 'DteSilent 
Vrornan. 



Scene II I.J 



THE BONDMAN. 



93 



Diph. 'Tis seconded Avith loud music. 
Archid. Wliicli confirms 
His wish'd-for entrance. Let us entertain him 
With all respect, solemnity, and pomp, 
A man mav merit, that comes to redeem us 
From slavery and oppression. 

Ckon. ni lock up [Corinth. 

My doors, and guard my gold ; these lads of 1 
Have ninihle finger-, and I fear them more, 
Being within our walls, than those of Carthage ; 
Thev are far off. 

Archid. And, ladies, he it j'our care 
To welcome him and his followers with all duty : 
For rest resolved, their hands and swords must 

keep you 
In that full height of happiness you live : 
A dreadful chan^ie else follows. 

[HietnU Archidamus, Cleon, and Diphilus- 
Oliimp. We are instructed. 

Coris. I'll kiss him for the'honour of my country, 
With any she in Corinth *. 

Olifmp. Were he a courtier, 
I've sweetmeat in my do.set shall content him, 
Be his palate ne'er so curious. 

Coris. And, if need be, [orchard, 

r have a couch and a hanqueting-house in my 
Where manv a man of honour t has not scorn d 
To spend an afternoon. 

Oltiinp. These men of war, 
As I have heard, know not to court a lady. 
They cannot praise our dressiugs, kiss our hands, 
Usher us to our litters, tell love-stories. 
Commend our I'eet and legs, and so search upwards ; 
A sweet becoming boldness ! they are rough. 
Boisterous, and saucy, and at the first sight 
Ruffle and touze us, and, as tliey find their stomachs, 
Fall roundly to it. 

Coris. 'Trolh, I like them the better : 
I can't endure to have h perfumed sir 
Stand cringing in the hams, licking liis lips 
Like a spaniel over a furmenty-pot, and yet 
Has not the boldness to come on, or offer 
What tliey know we expect. 
Olymp. We may commend 
A gentleman's modesty, manners, and fine language, 
His singing, dancing, riding of great horses, 
The wearing of his clotlies, his fair complexion ; 
Take presents from Inni, and extol his bounty : 
Yet, though he observe, and waste his state upon 
us t, 



• Coiif. I'll k^ss him. for the honour of my country, 
With any she in (:,ii\Uii\\.\ 'J'lie ii|)Ut,ilimi <if ihe Corin- 
thian l.idics stood higli among tlie aiicitnts lor gallaiiliy ; and 
to this Cdiisca alltides. 

+ Co lis And if need be 
J have a couch and a l)aii(|iietins;-housc in my orcharc, 
Ti' here many a man of honour, liic.i Onr old |)la)sar< full 
of allusions to ihfse ganlinlions-cs, whiih appear to have 
been abustd to tlie purp.'Ses of debauchery. A very homely 

passage fr Slubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, 1599, will make 

all this plain : " In the subiirbrs of ihe citie, they (the wo- 
men) have gardens eillicr paled or walled ronnd about very 
high, with their barbers and bowers lit lor the purpose: and 
lest they might be espied in these open places, they have their 
banqiietiny-houses with galleries, turrets, and what not, 
therein sumptuously erec'ed; wherein ihey niav,an<l doubt- 
less do, many of them, play the lillhy persons," See too, 
the City Madam. 

X and waste his state upon k.«,] Kverywliere 

the modern editors prim tlii« word with the mark of elision, 
as if it were coiiiiacted from estate; but it is not so: state 
is the gi imine word, and is used by all our old pocs, and by 
Massiiiger Idmseii, in many hundred pl.ice-, wher.- we sliould 
now write and piint estate. 1 may incidentally observe here. 



If he be staunch *, and bid not for the stock 
That we were born to traflic with ; the truth is. 
We care not for his company. 

Coris. iNIusing, Cleora ? [strangers ; 

Olymp. She's studying how to entertain these 
And to engross them to herself. 

Cleo. No, surely ; 
I will not cheapen any of their wares, 
Till you have made your market ; you will buy, 
I know, at any rate. 

Coris. She iias given it you. 

Otiimp. No more ; they come : the first kiss for 
this jewel. 

Flourish of trnmpeis. E/i(«r Timaooras, Lr.osrUENES, 
AsoTUs, I'lMoi EON ill liLick, leii in hq .\ncntDAMUS, 
Dipnii.us, and Clkos, Jolimed by Pisander, 
Gracculo, CiMDRii), and others. 

Arcliid. It is your seat : wliich, with a general 
suffrage, [Ojjerin;^ him the state f. 



that many leims which are now used wiih a inaiUol elision, 
and supposed lo have sninred an aph,eresis, ..le lea'ly and 
subslamialiy piTled. In some rases, the Savon prtlix ha* 
been cornipled i.ilo a component piri of the woid, and in 
others, prepositions liave been addid in the piMgress of 
refinement, for thesaUeot i u phony, or mil re ; bui, [generally 
speaking, the simple term is the complete one. 

* //"/iP 6« staunch, &C.1 I don't think l\\^t stavnch can 
be sense in tins pas^iue; we >lionld probably read starch'd, 
that is -precise, formal. M. Mason. 

This is a singular conjecture Let the re.ider peruse again 
Olvmpia'sile-criptioii, which is that of a compkle gentleman ; 
and then say what there is of starched, lomial, ur pic.-ise, 
in it ! Staunch is a< good a vord as he could I ave chosen, 
ami is here used in its prop, r sense for steady, liini, lull of 
integrity : and her meaning is, " if vviili al the accomplish- 
ments of a fine gentleman, he pos-esses the fixeil priiiciplet 
of a man of honour, and does not attempt to debauch us, he 
is not lor our purpose." 

Wlen I wrolt this, 1 had not seen the appendix which is 
subjoined to some copies of ihe last e litioii. Mr. M. Mason 
has there revised his note, and given hi- mole mature thoughts 
on the subject "On the first coiisiderati.n of II is passage, 
I did not aoprehend that the W(U-d staunch could import any 
meaning thil woul. I render it int. lli.,ilile, and I ti.ereforc 
amendeil lli«- pass.ige liy leadin.; starch d \ni\c,\\ of staunch; 
but 1 have .-ime found a similar acceptation of that word in 
Jonson's SilentU oman where Tiuewit s.iys : " If >our mi.s- 
tress love valour, t,.lk ot yoni sw ii(l,aml he frequent in the 
mention of qii.irrel-, though you be stcunch in fiuhting." 
This is one of the many iiist.inces that may be produced to 
prove how necessary it is for the editor of any ancient dra- 
matic writer, lo read with attention Ihe other dramalie 
productions of the time." 

I parlicipate in !V1r. M. Ma.'on's self-congratulations on this 
important di-covery ; and "ill venture to snagest another, 
still more important, which appears to have eluded his re- 
searches : it is simply—" tbe necessity for the editor of any 
ancient dramatic writer, to read with allentioii"— that dra- 
matic wriier himself. 

But wh It, after all, does Mr. M. Ma.son imagine lie has 
found out ; and what is the sense he would finally affix lo 
staunch:' these are trifles he has omitted to mention. lean 
discover nothing fio«i Ids long note, but that he misundcr 
stands Jonson now, as he misunderstood Massing, r before. 
Each of these great poets uses the word in its proper and 
ordinary sense :" Though y.ui be staunch in fighting," says 
Truewit, (i. e. really brave, and consequently not prone to 
boastim;,) 'yet, to please >our misliess, )ou ii.u-t talk of 
your sword," itc. 

t Ofiering him Ihe slate.] The state was a rai.sed platform, 
on which was placed x chair with a canopy over it. The 
word occurs perpetuallv in our oM writers. It is used by 
Drydeii, but seem- lo have b.en growing obsolete v\hile he 
was wriiing: in the first edition of M.ic Fleckno, the mo- 
narch is placed on a »//(;«?; in the subs.quent ones, he is 
seated, like his iVlh.w kin';s,on a throne: it occurs also, and 
I believe for the last lime, in Swift : " As she atiecie.l not 
Ihe grandeur of a slate wu\i a canopy, she thought there was 
no offence in an elbow chair." Hist, of John BuU, c. 1. 



94 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Act I. 



As to the supreme mngistrate, Sicily tenders*. 
And pniys 'J'imoleon to accept. 

TinwI. Such horiours 
To one ambitious of rule t or titles, 
Whose heaven on eartli is placed in his command, 
And absolute ])ower o'er others, would with joy, 
And veins swollen high with pride, be entertained. 
They take not me ; for I have ever loved 
An equal freedom, and proclaim'd all such 
As would usurp on other's liberties |, 
Rebels to nature, to whose bounteous blessings 
All men lav claim as true lenitimate sons : 
But such as have made forfeit of themselves 
By vicious courses, and their birthright lost, 
Tis not injustice they are mark'd for slaves 
To serve the virtuous. For myself, I know 
Honours and great emiiloyments are great burthens. 
And must require an Aihis to support them. 
He th;it would govern others, first should be 
The master of himself, richly endued 
With depth of understanding, height of courage, 
And those remarkable graces which I dare not 
Ascribe unto mvself. 

Archid. Sir, empty men 
Are trumpets of their own deserts ; but you. 
That are not in o|>inion, but in proof, 
Really good, and full of glorious jrarts, 
Leave the report of what you are to fame ; 
Which, from the ready tongues of all good men, 
Aloud proclaims you. 

Diph. Besides, you stand bound, 
Havmg so large a field to exercise 
Your active virtues ofl'er'd voii, to impart 
Your strength to such as need it. 

Timol. 'Tis confess'd : 
And, since you'll have it so, such as I am, 
For you, and for the liberty of Greece, 
I am most ready to lay down my life : 
But ^et consitler, men of Syracusa, 
Before tiiat you deliver up the power. 
Which yet is yours, to me, — to whom 'tis given ; 
To an impartial man, with whom nor threats. 
Nor prayers, shall prevail § ; for I must steer 
An even course. 

Archid. Which is desire 1 of all. 

Timol. Timoj)haties, mv brother, for whose death 
I am tainted in the world ||, and foully tainted ; 



• As to the supreme mac/Jstrate, Sicily tenders ] For Hicily, 
Ihe olil ci>pii-s li.ive surely. Tlie eniemldtutii, wliicli is u very 
happy oiif, was ma Ic by Coxeier. 

f ' such honours 

To one ambitious of rule, &<:.] iNfassiiiger lias liere finely 
drawn tlu' cliar .en r ul'Tiiiiolion, anil befii vt-ry true to liis- 
tory. He wa* ilrst-cndoil tioni one of tlio nolilesl lainilies in 
Corintli, lived his cuimtry p ission.Uily, and discovered upon 
all occasion- a singular huniaiiily of temper, except a;;ainst 
tyrants and liad men. He was an excellent capiain ; and as 
in his youth he had all thi' nialtnil> of age, in age he had all 
the fire an 1 coinage of Ihe most ardent youth. Coxeter. 

% As would usurp on other's liberties \ So the hrsl quarto; 
the second, whicl. tlie modern edn<Ms follow, has, another's 
liberties. In Ihe piece<lin:; line, for procta'in'd, Mr. M. 
Mason arbitiaiily reals, proclaim: an injudicious alteration. 

5 Nor prayers shall prevail :] ft'oer, which the modern 
editors arburaiily insert alti r s/ia//, i- neither required by 
the sense nor ih.- metre. (Omitteil in ed. 18i:t ) 

II 'J'imol. Tiiiiiipiiines, my brother, for whn<e death 

I'm tiiiiited in the world, ac. Tinn.leon hid .in elder bro- 
ther, c.iUicl riin..ph.iiHS, \vh in he lendi-ily loved, as lie had 
demon>tr.ited in a b.itle, in whieh he covered him with his 
body, an I .-aved lii> liie ai the gieai danger of his nwn ; but 
his couiitiy wi- ^lill dearei to him. Tli.it br..thei having 
made hiiii-elf tyrant of it, so black a crime g.ive him the 

sharpest atflictioii Hi ide use of all po-side means to 

bring him back to his duty ; kindness, friendship, atteclion, 



In whose remembrance I have ever worn, 
In peace and war, this livery of sorrow. 
Can witness for me, how much I detest 
Tyrannous usurpation ; with grief 
I must remember it : for. when no persuasion 
Could win hitn to desist from his bad practice. 
To change the aristocracy of Corinth 
Into an absolute monarchy, I chose rather 
To prove a pious and obedient son 
'Jo my country, my best mother*, than to lend 
Assistance to Timoplianes, though my brother. 
That, like a tyrant, strove to set bis foot 
Upon the city's freedom. 

Timag. 'Twas a deed 
Deservmg rather trophies than reproof. 

Least. And will be still remembered to your honour. 
If you forsake not us. 

Diph. If you free Sicily 
From barbarous Carthage' yoke,t 'twill be said. 
In him you slew a tyraht. 

Archid. But, giving way 
To her invasion, not vouchsafing us. 
That fly to your protection, aid and comfort, 
'Twill be believed, that, for your private ends. 
You kiird a brother. 

Timol. As I then proceed. 
To all posterity may that act be crown'd 
With a deserved ap]jlause, or branded with 
The mark of infamy ! — Stay yet; ere I take 
This seat of justice, or engage myself 
To fight for you abroad, or to reform 
Your state at home, swear all upon my sword 
And call the gods of Sicily to witness 
The oath you take, that wliatsoe'er 1 .shall 
Propound for safety of your commonwealth, 

remonstrances, and even menaces. But, finding ail Ins en- 
deavours iiietlecUMl, and that nothing could prevail upon a 
heart ab.iiidoiied to ambition, lie caused his liroilier to be 
assassin.ited in his picseme [no; not in his presence] by two 
of his friends and intiniales, and thought, tiiat iip.ai micIi an 
occa-ion, the 1 iws of namre ought to give pl.ice lo those of 
his country. CoxeteR. 

Coxeler has copied with sufficient accuracy, the leading 
traits of Timoleoii's character, from the olil tr.iiislalion of 
Plutarcli's Lives. Widi Plutarch, indeed, Timoleoii appears 
to be a favourite, and not undeservedly ; in an age of great 
men, he wasemiiKiiil^ conspicuous: his greatest pr.ii.-e, how- 
ever, is, that he pmlitnl by experience, and snttend ihe wild 
and savage enthii.M.isin of his voiilh to me low into a sleadj 
and rational love ol liberty. The assassinalimi of his brother, 
which sat heavy o« his soul, taught liiin •' thai an action 
should not oidv" {it is Plnt.iich who speaks) " be just and 
laudable in itsllf, but Ihe principle from which it pioceeds, 
firm and immoveable; in order that our conduct niay'liave 
the sanclion of our own approbation. " 

It is impossible lo read a page of his latter history, without 
seeing thai prudence was the virtue on which he chielly relied 
for fame : prodigies and porlents forerun all his achieve- 
ments ; part of which he undoubtedly fabiicaled, and all of 
which he h.id the dexleriiy to turn to his account ; but he was 
not only indebte.l lo prudence for fame, but for liapiiiness 
also; since, when he had t;iven victory and peace lo the 
Syracnsans, he wisely declined returning to Greece, where 
pio.'crlption or death probably awaited him : and chose to 
spend tlie remainder of Ins davs at Syracuse. Those days 
were long anil happy, and wiien he died he was honoured 
with a public funeral, and Ihe tears of a people whom he had 
saved. 

* To my country, my best mother,] In this expression, 
Timoleon alludes to Ihe coniluct of his natural mother, who 
would never see him after the assassination of his brother, 
and always call <l \\\u fratricidam, impiiimque. 
t Diph. If you free .Sfcity, 

From l>arbaroui t'lirthaye yotie, &c.] This and Ihe next 
speech are liter.dly from I'lularch ; IMassinger li.is in this 
instance adhered more closely lo his story lli.in usual ; for, to 
confess tlit tiutti, it cannot he said o"' him, that his historical 
plays are " more authenlic than the chronicles 1" 



ScenbIII.] 



THE BO^JDMAN. 



95 



Not cicumscribed or bound in, shall by you 
Be williiiglv obev'd. 

Archid. Diph. Clean. So may we prosper, 
As we obey in all things. . 

Thmig. Least. Asnt. And observe 
Nil your commands as oracles ! 

fimal. Do not repent it. [Takes the state. 

Oliimf. He asK'd not our consent. 

Carh. He's a clonn I warrant Iiim. 

Olijmp. 1 offer 'd myself twice, and yet the churl 
V\'ould not salute me. 

Coris. Let him kiss his drum ! 
I'll save my lips. I rest on it*. 

Olump. He tliinks women 
No part of the republic. 

Coris. He shall find 
We are a commonwealth. 

Cleo. The less your honour. 

Timol. First then a word or two, but without bit- 
terness. 
(And yet mistake me not, I am no flatterer.) 
Coni erning your ill government of the state ; 
In which the greatest, noblest, and most rich, 
Stand, in the first file guilty. 

Clean. Ha! how's this] 

Timol. You have not, as good patriots should do, 
studied 
The public good, but your particular ends ; 
Factious among yourselves, preferring such 
To offices and honours, as ne'er read 
The elements of saving policy ; 
But deeply skill'd in all the principles 
That usher to destruction, 

J east. Sharp. 

Timag. The better. 

Timol. Your senate-house, which used not to ad- 
A man, however popular, to stand [mit 

At the helm of government, whose youth was not 
Made glorious by action ; whose experience, [sels, 
Crown'd with gray hairs, gave warrant to his coun- 
Heard and received with reverence, is now fill'd 
With green heads, that determine of the state 
Over their cups, or when their sated lusts 
Afford them leisure ; or supplied by those 
Who, rising from base arts and sordid thrift. 
Are eminent for theirf wealth not for their wisdom: 
Which is the reason that to hold a place 
In council, which was once esteem'd an honour. 
And a reward for virtue, hath quite lost 
Lustre and reputation, and is made 
A mercenary purchase. 

Timag. He speaks home. 

Least. And to the purpose. 
Timol. From whence proceeds 
That the treasure of the city is engross'd 
By a few private men, the public coffers 
Hollow with want ; and they, that will not spare 
One talent for the common good, to feed 
The pride and bravery of their wives, consume, 



• I'll safe my lips, I rest on it.] I am fixed, dplermined, 
on it ; ;i iiielaplior taken fioin pl.iy, where tlie highest slake 
the parlies were disposed to veniure, was calle<l the rest. 
To appropriate this ttim to any particular game, as is some 
times done, is extremely incoi reel ; since it was anciently 
applied to cards, to dice, to bowls, in short to any amuse- 
ment of chance, where <uoncy was wagered, or, to use a 
phrase of the times, set np. 

t Are eminmt far their wealth, not for their tvisdom :] I 
have iiiserlcd their Iniin the invaluable liist quarto : it 
ttrcngthens and completes the verse. 



In plate, and jewels, and superfluous slaves, 
What would maintain an army. 
Coris. Have at us ! 
Olymp. We thought we were forgot. 
Cleo. But it appears 
You will be treated of. 

Timol. Yet, in this plenty, ^ 
And fat of peace, your young men ne'er were train'd 
In martial discipline; and your shijis unrigg'd. 
Rot in the harbour : no defence prepared, 
But thought unuseful ; as if that the gods, 
Indulgent to )our sloth, had granted you 
A perpetuity of pride and pleasure. 
No change fear'd or expected. Now you find 
That Carthage, looking on your stupid sleeps, 
And dull security, was invited to 
Invade your territories. 

Archid. You have made us see, sir. 
To our shame, the country's sickness : now, from you, 
As from a careful and a wise physician, 
We do expect the cure.! 

Timol. Old fester'd sores 
Must be lancf-d to the quick, and cauterized : 
Which born with patience, after I'll apply 
Soft unguents. For the maintenance of the war, 
It is decreed all monies in the hand 
Of private men, shall instantly be brought 
To the public treasury. 
Timag, This bites sore. 
Clean, The cure 
Is worse than the disease ; I'll never yield to't : 
What could the enemy, though victorious, 
Infl ct more on us 1 All that my youth hath toil'd for, 
Purchased with industry, and preserved with care, 
Forced from me in a moment ! 

Diph. This lough course 
Will never be allow 'd of. 

Timol O blind men ! 
If you refuse the first means that is offer'd 
To give you health, no hope's left to recover 
Your desjierate sickness. Do you prize your muck 
Above vour liberties ; and rather choose 
To be made bondmen, than to part with that 
To which already vou are slaves ? Or e^n it 
Be probable in your flattering appreheubions. 
You can ca])itulate with the conqueror. 
And keep tliat yours wiiich they come to possess. 
And, while you kneel in vain, will ravish from you 1 
— But take your own ways ; brood upon your t;old, 
Sacrifice to your idol, and preserve 
The prey entire, and merit the report 
Of careful stewards ; yield a just accounl 
To your proud masters, who, with whips of iron, 
Will force you to give up what you conceal, 
Or tear it from your throats : adorn your walls 
With Persian hangings wrought of gold and pearl; 
Cover the floors on whirh they are to tread. 
With costly Median silks ; perfume the rooms 
With ra.<;sia and amber, wl:ere they are 
To feast and revel ; while, like servile grooms, 
You wait upon their trenchers ; feed their eyes 
With massy plate, until your cupboards crack 
With the weigiit that they sustain ; set forth your 
And daughters in as many varied shapes [wive 

As there are nations to provoke their lusts, 
And let them be embraced before your eyes, 
'i'he object may content you 1 and to perfect 
Their entertainment, offer up your sons. 
And able " en, for slaves ; while you, that are 
Unfit for labour, are spurn'd out to starve. 



96 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Act L 



Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by. 
Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate tear, 
In the remembrance of what once you were. 
Least. The blood turns. 
Timag. Observe how old Cleon shakes, 
As if in picture he had shown him what 
He was to suffer. 

Coris. I am sick ; the man 
Speaks poniards and diseases. 

Oli/mp. O my doctor ! 
I never shall recover. 

Cleo. [coming forward.1 If a virgin, 
Whose speech was ever yet usher'd with fear ; 
One know ing- modesty and humble silence 
To be the ilioicest ornaments of our se.x, 
In the presence of so many reverend men 
Struck dumb with terror and aistonishraent, 
Presume to clothe her thought in vocal sounds, 
Let her find imrdnn. First to you, great sir, 
A bashful maid's thanks, and her zealous pravers 
Wing'd with pure innocence, bearing- ''.dni to heaven. 
For all prosperity that tiie gods can give 
To one whose piety must exact their care, 
Thus low 1 offer. 

Timol. 'Tis a happy omen. 
Rise, blest one, and speak boldly. On my virtue, 
I am thy warrant, from so clear a spring 
Sweet rivers ever flow. 

Cleo. Then, thus to you. 
My noble father, and these lords, to whom 
I next owe duty : no respect forgotten 
To you, my brother, and these bold young men, 
(Such I would have them,) that are, or should be, 
The city's sword and target of defence. 
To all of you I s]ieak ; and, if a blush 
Steal on my cheeks, it is shown to reprove 
Your paleness, willingly 1 would not say, 
Your cowardice or fear : Think you all treasure 
Hid in the bowels of the earth, or shipwreck'd 
In Neptune's wat'ry kingdom, can hold weight, 
When liberty and honour fill one scale, 
Trium])}iant Justice sitting on the beam? 
Or dare you but imagine that your gold is 
Too dear a salary ibr such as hazard 
Their blood and lives in your defence ? For me. 
An ignorant girl, bear witness, heaven! so far 
I prize a soldier, (hat, to give him pay. 
With such devotion as onr flamens offer 
Their sacrifices at the holy altar, 
I do lay down these jewels, will make sale 
Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply 
The meanest of their wants. [Lays down her jewels. 
Timol. Brave masculine spirit ! 
Biph. We are shown, to our shame, what we in 
Should have taught others. [honour 

Archid. Such a fair example 
Must needs be folio w'd. 

Timag. Ever my dear sister. 
But now our family's glory ! 
Least. Were she defbrm'd, 
The virtues of her mind would force a Stoic 
To sue to he her servant. 

Clean. I must yield ; 
And. though my heart-blood part with it, I will 
Deliver in my wealth. 

Asot. I would say something; 
But, the t)-uth is, I know not what, 

Timol. We have money ; 
And men must now be thought on. 
Archid. We can press 



Of labourers in the countrj', men inured 
To cold and heat, ten thousand. 

Diph. Or, if need be. 
Enrol our slaves, lusty and able varlets. 
And fit for service. 

Clean. They shall go for me ; 
I will not pay and fight too. 

Cleo. How ! your slaves ? 

stain of honour ! — Once more, sir, your pardon 
And, to their shitfnes, let me deliver what 

1 know injustice you may speak. 

Timol, Most gladly : 
I could not wish my thoughts a better organ 
'I'han your tongue, to express them. 

Cleo. Are you men ! 
(For age may qualify, though not excuse. 
'Ihe backwardness of these,) able young men! 
Yet, now your country's liberty's at the stake. 
Honour and glorious triumph made the garland* 
For such as dare deserve them ; a rich feast 
Prepared by Victory, of immortal viands. 
Not for base men, but such as with their swords 
Dare force admittance, and will be her guests : 
And can jou coldly suffer such rewards 
To be proposed to labourers and slaves ? 
While you, that are born noble, to whom these, 
Valued at their best rate, are next to horses. 
Or other beasts of carriage, cry aim f ! 



• Yet, now ycrnr country's liherti/'a at the staJte, 
Honour and ylorious triumph made tlic yartand.'^ Mr. 
M. Mason has innjmved lliese liiius, in liis opiiiiun, by omit- 
tins; tlie arlicle in tlie tii>t, anil clianj^ing the hi llie second, 
into a. Tiiese are very strange libirti.s to take witli an 
anthor, upon caprice, or blind conjetliuo. 

+ If hile you crV aim ! 

Like idle lookers on, Coxeter, wlio seems not to liavo 
undersiood (lie expression, yave the incorrect nadin;; of the 
second qnarto, cry, Ay rnel which, alter all, was nothing 
more llian an accidental <li>jiinctii>n of the last word (aymej 
at llie press. ]\'r. M. MaMin iV.llows him in the text, but 
observes, in a note, that we shmiid lead cry aim. There is 
no doubt of it ; and so it is distinctly i^ivcn in the first and 
best copy. Tlieexpiession is so coii.mDii in tlie writers ot 
Massinyer's time, and, indeed, in M.i>siiia:er liiiiis ll, that it 
is ilitliciilt to say how it could ever he iiii-nniUM>tooil. The 
phlase, as Warbiiitoii observes, Merry Hires iij' II indsor, 
Acl II. sc. iii. was taken Irom archt ry : " \V hen .my one had 
challenged aiiotlier to slioot at tlie bii'ts, the si.iniliis by used 
to say one to the other. Cry aim, i.e. acceji! ilie cli.tlleiige." 
Sleevens rejects this expl.ination, wl.icli, intact, ha- neither 
truth nor probability to rei'oinmend it ; and adds : '' It seems 
to have been the ollice of the aim-cryer, to give notice to Ihe 
archer when he was williin a proper distance of his mark," 
&e. Here this acute critic Iwis f.illeii, willi the rest of the 
commentators, into an error. Aim! for so it shoald be printed, 
and not cry aim, whs always addressed to tlie person abont 
to shoot: it was an hortatory exclamation of the by-st.inders, 
or, as Massinger has it, of the idle lookers oh, intended for 
his encouragement. . But the mislalie ot Steevens iri-'es from 
his confounding cry aim! wiili yii^e aim. To cry aim f as 1 
have already observed, was to encourage ; to fi^ive aim, was 
to DlRi-XT, and in these di-liiict and appropriate senses the 
words perpetually occur. 'J'heie was no sucli office as aim- 
crycr, as asserted above ; Ihe business of eiiconia<;eiiieni being 
abandoned to sncli of the spect.itors as ciiose to interfere: to 
lliat of direction, indeed, there was a special person appointed. 
Those who cried aim! stood liy the archers ; he wlio </aBei7, 
was stationed near llie butts, and pointed oiil alter every 
di>chaige, how wide, or how short, the arrow fell of the 
mark. A few examples will make all tliis clear: 
" Ii ill become.- this presence to cry aim! 

To these ill tuned repetitions." King John, 

i. e. to encourage. 

" Beltire his face plotting his own abuse, 
To which himself i/'rfs aim-; 
While the broad — w with llie forked head, ■ 
Mi-ses his brows uui narrowly." 

A Mad I J or Id my Matteru 
i e. directs. 



1 



1 



Scene III.] 



THE BONDM/VN. 



97 



Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth 
Make tliem become your musters ! 

Timfll. I'y my hopes, 
There's fire and spirit enough in this to make 
Thersites valiant. 

Cleo. No ; far, for be it from you : 
v^Let these of meaner quality contend 
Who can endure most labour ; plouo;h the earth, 
And think they are rewarded when their sweat 
Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords ; 
Let them jirove good artificers, and serve you 
For use and ornament, but not presume 
To touch at what is noble. If you think tliem 
Unworthy to taste of those cates you feed on, 
Or wear such costly garments, will you grant them 
The privilege and prerogative of great minds. 
Which you were born to? Honour won in war, 
And to be stvled preservers of their country, 
Are titles fit for free and generous spirits, 
And not for bondmen : had I been born a man, 
And such ne'er-dving glories made the prize 
To bold heroic courage, by Diana, 
I would not to my brother, nay, my father, 
Be bribed to part with the least piece of honour 
I should gain in this action ! 

TiinoL She's inspired. 
Or in her speaks the genius of your country. 
To fire your blood in her defence ; I am rapt 
With the imagination. Noble maid, 
Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat 
Drops of his best blood, but he will bring home 
Triumphant conquest to you. Let me wear 
Your colours, ladv; and though voutliful heats', 
That look no further fhan your outward form. 
Are long since buried in me, while 1 live, 
I am a constant lover of your mind, 
That does transcend all precedents. 

Clen. 'Tis an honour, [_Gives her tcmf» 

And so I do receive it. 

Coris. Plague ujion it ! 
She has got the start of us: I could even burst 
With envv at her fortune. 



To the viceioy's base embraces, and cry aim ! 
While he by torce," &c. The Rertegado. 

i. e. encourage them. 

" This w.iy I (oil iti vain, and give but aim 
To infamy and ruin ; he will Cdll, 
My blessing cannot stay liini." The Jloaring Girl. 
i. e. direct them. 

" — Standyng rather in his window to— crye aime! than 
helpyng any waye to part the fraye." 

Fenton's Tragical Discourses.' 
i. e. to enconrage. 

" I niysell'i/«))e a{m thus,— Wide, fonr bows ! short, three 
and a lialf." Middleton's Spanish Gypsie. 
i. e. directed. 

I should apologize for the length of this note, were it not 
that I iljtter myself the distinct and appropriate meanins.'of 
these two phrases is ascertained in it, and finally established. 

* Let me wear 

Your colours, lad;/ ; and t/iouijh youthful heats. 
That look no further tlum ymir outward form, 
Are long since buried in me, while I live, 
I am, &c.] This is evidently copied from that much con- 
tested speech of Othello, Act 1. sc. iii. : " 1 therefore heg it 
not," &c., as in the following passage, in The Fair Maid of 
the Inn : 

" Shall we t:ike our fortune? and while our cold fathers. 
In whom lung since tlieir youthful heats were dead. 
Talk much of Mars, serve unier Venus' ensigns, 
And seek a mi^tress '." 
And as thi"! shows how ShaUspe:ire's contemporaries under- 
stood tile lines, it should, I think, willi us, be decisive of 
their n.eaiiiiig. The old reafliiig, with the alteration of one 
letter by Johnson, stands thus : 



Olumj). A raw young thing ! [bands say, — 

We have too much tongue sometimes, our bus- 
And she outstrip us ! 

Leoit. I am for the journey. 

Ttmag. INIay all diseases sloth and letchery brinj 
Fall upon him that sta_ys at home ! 

Arcliid. Though old, 
I will be there in person. 

Dipii. So will I : 
IMethiiiks I am not what I was ; her words 
Have made me younger, by a score of years, 
Than I was when I came hither. 

Clean. 1 am still 
Old Cleon, fat and unwieldy; I shall never 
Make a good soldier, and therefore desire 
I o be excused at home. 

A sot. 'Tis my suit too : 
I am a gristle, and these spider fingers 
Will never hold a sword. Let us alone 
To rule the slaves at home ; I can so yerk them— 
But in my conscience I shall never prove 
Good justice in the war. 

Timol. Have your desires ; 
You would be burthens to us, no way aids. 
Lead, fairest, to the temple ; first we'll pay 
A sacrifice to tiie gods for good success : 
For all great actions the wish'd course do run, 
That are, with their allowance, well begun. 

l^Eieunt idl but Pisan. Grac. and Clmb. 

Pisan. Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo. 

Cimh. The business ? [grove, 

Pisan. Meet me to-morrow night near to the 
Neighbouring the east part of the city. 

Grac. Well. [you : 

Pisan. And bring the rest of our condition with 
I've something to impart may break our fetters. 
If you dare second me. 

Cimb. We'll not fail. 

Grac. A cart-rope 
Shall not 'oind me at home. 

Piian. Think on't, and prosper. [Erewnt. 

-I therefore beg it not 



To please the palate of my appetite ; 

Nor to comply with heat, the young affects 

In me defunct, and proper satisfaction," &c. 

The admirers of Shakspeare cannot but recollect with 
dismay, the prodigious mass of conjectural criticism which 
Steevens has iiccumulated on this passage, as well as the 
melancholy presage with which it terminates ; that, after all, 
" it will probably prove a lasting source of doubt and con- 
troversy." I confess I see little occasion for either; nor can 
I well conceive why, after the rational and unforced e\pla- 
nation ol Johnson, the worthless reveiits of Tlieob.dd, Toilet, 
&c., were udmiiud.— Affects occur incessantly in the sense 
of pas-ions, atfections : young affects is tlidretore perfectly 
synonimous with youthful heats. Oihello, like Timoleon, 
was not an old man, though he had lost the fire of youth ; the 
critics might therefore have dismissed that concern for the 
lady, which they have so delicately communicated for the 
edification of the rising generation. 

I have said thus tnuch on the subject, because 1 observe, 
that the numerous eoitions of Shakspearc now preparing, lay 
claim to patronage on the score of religiunsls following the 
text of .Steevens. I am not prepared to deny that this is the 
best which has hitherto appeared ; thOHi;h I have nodifHculty 
ill artiriidng that those will deserve well of the public, who 
shall bring back some readings which he has discarded, and 
reject others which he has adopted. In the ] resent instance, 
fir example, his text, besides being unwarranted, and ti'tally 
foreign from the meaning of hi» author, can scarcely be 
leciiiiciled either to t;ramniar or sense. 

I would wish the future editors of Shakspeare to consider, 
whether he might not have given a^e*?; in the singnbr (this 
also is used for passion), to correspond witli heat ; and then 
the lines may be thus regulated : 

" Nor to comply with heat, (the young affect's 
In me defunct,) ami proper satislaciion. " 



98 



THE BONDMAN. 



fAcT 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. — The tame. A Room in AncmoAMvs's 
House. 

Enter Archidamus, Timagoras, Leosthenes, with 
gorgets ; and Pisander. 

Archid. So, so, 'tis well : bow do I look ? 
Pisan. ]Most si)rightfully. [I'm old 

Archid. I .shrink not in the shoulders ; though 
I'm tough, steel to the back ; I have not wasted 
My stock of strength in feathetbeds : here's an arm 

too ; 
There's stufF in't, and I hope will use a sword 
As well as any beardless boy of you all. 

Timag. I'm glad to see you, sir, so well prepared 
To endure the travail of the war. 

Archid. Go to, sirrah ! 
I shall endure, when some of you keep your cabins, 
For all your flaunting feathers ; nay, Leosthenes, 
You are welcome too*, all friends and fellows now. 
Least. V our servant, sir. 
Archid. Pish ! leave these compliments. 
They stink in a soldier s mouth ; I could be merry. 
For, now my gown's oft', farewell giavityt ! 
And must be bold to put a question to you. 
Without offence, I hope. 
Leost. Sir, what you please. 
Archid. And you will answer truly ? 
Timag. On our words, sir. 

Archid. Go to, then ; I presume you will confess 
That you are. two notorious whoremasters ; 
Nay, spare yout blushing, I've been wild myself, 
A smack or so for physic does no harm ; 
Nay, it is physic, if used moderately: 

But to lie at rack and manger 

Leost. Say we grant this. 
For if we should deny't, you'll not believe us, 
What will you infer upon it 1 

Archid. VV hat you'll groan for, [us, 

I fear, when you come to the test. Old stories teli 
There's a month call'd October*, which brings in 
Cold weather ; there are trenches too, 'tis rumour'd, 
In which to stand all night to the krjees in water. 
In gallants breeds the toothach ; there's a sport too, 
Nametl lying pe due, do you mark me ! 'tis a game 
Which you must learn to play at ; now in these 
And choice variety of exercises, [seasons. 



nay, Leosthenes, 

You are welcome too, &c.] It sliouH be remembered that 
ArcliMaiiiKs is, with great jiif'gnieiit, represented in the 
first scene, as averse to the njirriage of Leosthenes witli his 
<laui;litfr. 

+ /'wr, notv my gnvon's off, farewell gravity .'] Tliis is said 
to have been a tVeqiient expression with the gieat but play- 
ful Sir Thomas Moie, wlio was never so happy as when he 
Bliouk oH the pomp of oftice. Fuller lells a ^illlila^ story of 
Lord Biirleiji;h. 

^ X Old storieK tell us. 

There s a month called October, &c.] This pleasant old 
man forgets he is talkins; of Sicily, where October is the 
most lili;;htfiil month of the year. All oiir old poets loved 
and tli..'i>:hl only of their country. Whatever reiiion was 
the subject. Ens and was the real theme : their habits, cus- 
toms, peculi,iii;ies, weie all derived fioiii thence. 'I'his, 
thoiif;li it must condemn them as historians, may save (hem 
as patiiols! and, iiuleed, it is not much to be reijrelled that 
thty should overlook manners, with which tlity were very 
impirlitily acquainted, in favour of those wjtli hIijcI, i|i,y 
Were hourly cofivers.iut— al least, it w.nild be uii^rat.lul iii 
OS, v\li.i profit so much by their iiilnnle descripiruns, tu he 
nttended at their disregard of what are quaintly calliu the 
«<Mtu»ii. 



(Nay, I come to you,) and fasts, not for devotion, 

Vour rambling liunt-smock feels strange alterations; 

And in a frosty morning looks as if 

He could with ease creep in a ]iottle-pot, 

Inste.id of his mistress' placket. Then he curses 

The time he spent in midiiiglit visitations; 

And finds what he superfluously parted with. 

To be reported good at leiigih,and w^ell breath'd*. 

If but retrieved into his back again f, 

Would keep him warmer than a scarlet waistcoat, 

Enter Dipiiilvs and Cleoha. 

Or an armour lined with fur — O welcome ! wel- 
come ! 
You have cut off my discourse; but I will perfect 
IMy lecture in the camp. 

Diph. Come, we are stay'd for ; 
'J'he general's afire for a remove, 
And longs to be in action. 

Archid. ''l"is my wish too. 
We must jiart — nay, no tears, my best Cleora ; 
1 shall melt too, and that were ominous. 
I^Iillions of blessings on thee ! All that's mine 
I give up to thy charge; and, sirrah, look 

[To I'isander. 
\ ou with that care and reverence observe her. 
Which you would pav to nie. A kiss; farewell 
girl ! 

Diph. Peace wait upon you, fair one! 

[Exeunt Archidamus, Dipliilus, and Pisander. 

Timag, 'Twere impertinence 
"To wish you to be careful of vour honour. 
That ever keep in pay a guard about vou 
Of faithful virtues. Farewell : friend, I leave you 
To wipe our kisses off; I know that lovers 
Part with more circumstance and ceremony ; 
Which 1 give way to. [Exit- 

Leost. ' lis B noble favour. 
For which I ever owe you. We are alone ; 
But how I sliould begin, or in what language 
Speak the unwilling word of parting from you, 
I am yet to learn. 

Cleo. And still continue ignorant ; 
For J must be most cruel to myself, 
If I should teach you. 

Leost. Yet it must be spoken. 
Or you will chide my slackness. You have fired me 
With the heat cf noble action to deserve you ; 
And the least s[iark of honour that took life 
From your sweet breath, still fann'd by it and 
Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I [cherish 'd. 
Am much unworthy. 

Cleo. May it not burn here, 
And, as a seamark, serve to guide true lovers, 
Toss'd on the ocean of luxurious wishes, 
Safe from the rocks of lust, into the harbour 
Of pure affection ! rising up an example 



t 



* To be reported good, at length, and well breatk'd] at 
length, which completes the verse, is carelessly droot bv 
boih tlie editors. ' ' 

t // bui n trieved Into his back again ] This ^viih (he 
ev.eptioi. of Ihit if, for // but, which I am a<counial)le 
t..r) i- ihc reading of the second quarto ; the first quaintly 

" But if retained into hie lack again.' 



SCENK l.J 



THE BONDMAN. 



99 



VShuli aftt'vtiHies sliall witness to our glory, 
First took from us beginning;. 

Lenst. lis a happiness 
My (lutv to my country, and inin& honour 
Cunnot consent to ; besides, add to these, 
It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion, 
A.nd st!-en;4tli of reason, for the general good,- 
That 1 sluuild o-o. 

Cleo. Alas ! I then was witty 
To pleiid against myself; and mine eye, fix'd 
ll])on till' hill of lionour, ne'er descended 
To look into the vale of certain dangers, 
Throug'i which you were to cut your passage to it. 
Leost. I'll stay at home, then. 
Cleo. No, that must not be ; 
For so, to serve m^ own ends, and to gain 
A petty wreath myself, I rob you of 
A cerlniii triumph, which must fall upon you. 
Or \Mrtii. 's turn'd a handmaid to blind Fortune. 
How is iii\ soul divided ! to confirm you 
In the opinion .)f tlie world, most worthy 
'I'o be l)elov(d (with nie you're at the height, 
And can advance no further,) I must send you 
To court the goddess of stern war, who, if 
She see you with my eyes, will ne'er return you. 
But grow enamour'd of you. 

l.eiKt. Sweet, take comfort ! 
And what 1 offer you, you must vouchsafe me. 
Or I am wretched : all tiie dangers that 
1 can encounter in the war, are trifles; 
Mv enemies abroad, to be contemn'd ; 
The dreadful foes, that have tlie power to hurt me, 
I leave at Imme with you. 
Cleo. With me ! 
Leost. Nay. in you, 
In every piirt about you, tliey are arm'd 
To fit;ht against me. 
Clen. Where? 

Leost. lliere's no perfection 
Tiiat you are mistress of, but musters up 
A legion against me, and all sworn 
To my destruction. 
Cleo. This is strange ! 
Least. I'liit true, sweet ; 
Kxcess ol love can work such miracles ! 
•jj)on this ivory forehead are intrench'd 
I'en thousand rivals, and these suns command 
Sup])lies from all the world, on pain to forfeit 
Their comfortable beams ; these ruby lips, 
A rich exthequer to assure their pay ; 
This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them, 
'I'hrough iiell and horror, to the Elysian springs; 
Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name 
Such as the virtues of your mind invite, 
Their numbers would be infinite. 

Cleo. Can you think 
I may be tempted ? 

Leost. Vou were never proved*. 
For me I have conversed with you no further 
'J'han would become a brother. I ne'er tuned 
Loose notes to your chaste ears ; or brought rich 
For my artillery, to batter down [presents 

The fortress of your honour ; nor endeavour'd 
To make your blood run high at solemn feasts 
With viands that provoke; the speeding philtres: 



• L( ost. )'o« were never proved ] The whole of lliis 
scene i.s eiiiiiiiiiily beautiful ; jet I cainiot avoid reconi- 
liiendiiig to ihe reader's parlicid.ir notice, the speech wiiicli 
follows. Its riijlliin is so peifecl, that it druos on ihe ear 
JliUe tlic sweetest melody. 



I work'd no bawds to tempt you ; never practised 

The cunning and corrupting arts they study, 

That wander in the wild maze of desire ; 

Honest simplicity and truth were all 

The agents I employ 'd ; and when I came 

To see you, it was witli that reverence 

As I beheld the altars of the gods : 

And love, that came along with me, was taught ^ 

'J'o leave his arrows and his torch behind, 

Quench'd in my fear to give offence. 

Cleo. And 'twas 
That modesty that took me and preserves me. 
Like a fresh rose, irt mine own natural sweetness , 
Which, sullied with tlie touch of impure hands, 
Loses both scent and beauty. 

Leost. But, Cleora, 
When I am absent, as I must go from you 
(Such is the cruelty of my fate), and leave you. 
Unguarded, to the violent assaults 
Of loose tempfations ; when the memory 
Of my so many years of love and service 
Is lost in other objects ; when you are courted 
By such as lieep a catalogue of their conquests, 
Won upon credulous virgins ; when nor father 
Is here to owe you, brother to advise you *, 
Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off, 
By lust instructed how to undermine, 
And blow your chastity up; when your weak senses, 
At once assaulted, shall conspire against you. 
And play the traitors to your soul, your virtue; 
How can you st;uun 'Faith, though you fall, and. I 
The judge before whom you then stood accused, 
I should acquit you. '^\ fl Q 

Cleo. Will you then confirm ^J > ^ n 
That love and jealousy, though of different natures, 
Must of necessity be twins ; the younger 
Created only to defeat the elder, 
And spoil him of iiis birthright 1 1 'tis not well. 
But being to j)art, I will not chide, I will not; 
Nor with one syllable or tear, express 
How deeply 1 am wounded with the arrows 
Of your distrust : but when that you shall hear. 
At your return, how I have borne myself, 
And what an austere penance 1 take on me. 
To satisfy your doubts ; when, like a vestal, 
I shew you, to your shame, the tire still burning. 
Committed to my charge by true affection. 
The people joining with you in the wonder; 
When, by the glorious splendour of my sufferings, 
The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind. 
The monster too that feeds on fears, e'en starved 
For want of seeming matter to accuse me ; 
Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof 
From my just anger. 

Leost. What will you do? 
Cleo. Obey me. 
Or from this minute you are a stranger to me ; 
And do't without reply. All-seeing sun, 
■J hou witness of my innocence, thus 1 close 
Mine eyes against thy comfortable light, 

• when nor father 

U here to owe you, brother to advise you.] Owe is the reading 
of both ;li<- quartos; and is evidently right. 'l\\v property ut 
Cleora wa.s in the lallier; this is distint-iiished tioni the 
only liglit the brother \\aA:— to advise. The nndern cii- 
tors.notcouipvehending this, sophisticate the text, and print— 
here to awe you 1 

f And xpoil him of his hirthriijht T\ This is a happy 
allusion to the hl^^oly of Jacob and Ksau. il is the more 
M>, tor beins; void of all piotaneness ; to \\hich, indeta 
Massinger had no tendency. 



too 



Till tlie return of this distrustful man ! 

Now bind them sure ; — nay, do't : [He binds her 

€i/es.] If, uncomppll'd, 
I loose this knot, until the hands that made it 
Be pleased to untie it, may consuming plagues 
Fall heavy on me ! jiray you guide me to your lips. 
This k'issi when you come back, shall be a virgin 
To bid you welcome ; nay, 1 have not done yet : 
I will continue dumb, and, you once gone, 
No accent shall come from me. Now to my chamber, 
My tomb, it' you miscarry : there I'll spend 
My hours in silent mourning, and thus much 
Shall be reported of me to my glory, 
And you confess it, whether I live or die, 
My chastity triumphs o'er your jealousy. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IL— The same. A Room in Cleon's House. 
Enter AsoTUS, driving in Gracculo. 

Asot. You slave ! you dog ! down, cur. 

Grac. Hold, good young master. 
For pity's sake ! 

Asot. Now am I in my kingdom : — 
Who says I am not valiant ? I begin 
To frown again : quake, villain. 

Grac. So I do, sir ; 
Your looks are agues to me. 

Asot. Are they so, sir! 
'Slight, if I had them at this bay that flout me, 
And sviy I look like a sheep and an ass, I'd make them 
Feel that I am a lion. 

Grac. Do not roar, sir, 
As you are a valiant beast : but do you know 
Whv you use me thus ? 

Asot. I'll beat thee a little more, 
'I'hen study for a reason. O ! I have it : 
One brake a jest on me, and then I swore, 
Because I durst not strdce him, when I came home 
That I would break thy head. 

Grac. Plague on his mirth* ! '^ 

I'm sure I mourn for't. 

Asot. Remember too, I charge you, 
'J'o teach my horse good manners yen ; this morning, 
As I rode to take the air, the untutor'd jade 
Threw me, and kiik'd me. 

Grac. I thank him for't. [^Asidi.'. 

Asot. Uliat's that ? 

Grac. I say, sir, I will teach him to hold his lieels, 
If vou will rule your fingers. 

Asot. I'll think up'in't. 

Garc. 1 am bruised to jelly : better be a dog, 
Than slave to a fool or coward. [/lj.i</e. 

Asot. Here's my mother. 

Enter Corisca and Zanthia. 

She is chastising too : how brave we live. 

That have our slaves to beat, to keep us in breath 

\\ hen we want exercise! 

Coris. C'aielesi harlotry, [^Striking her. 

l^ook to't ; if a curl fall, or wind or sun 
Take my comjilexion off, 1 will not leave 
One hair upon thine head. 

Grac. Here's a second show 

* Grac. l'l;i(iiif o« his mirth.] This is marked as a side 
tlieccli by tlie uuduni editors; it is spoktn, however, to 
A-otus: an<l alliid.s to what lie calls a jest in the preceding 
line. It is wortli observing;, that the editor of the second 
qitario freqvK iitly vaiics the evclamalions of the first, and 
ah\a\s lor the worse : thus Plague f is uiiifiprinly turned 
iilo J^ — x! Goxetcr and Mr. M. Mason lollow him. 



THE BONDMAN. [Act 11. 

Of the family of pride. [Aside. 

Coris. Fie on these wars ! 
I'm starved for want of action ; not a gamester left 
To keep a woman play. If this world last 
A little longer with us, ladies must study 
Some new-found mystery to cool one another ; 
We shall burn to cinders else. I have heard there 

have been 
Such arts in a long vacation ; would they were 
Reveal'd to me ! they have made my doctor to« 
Physician to the army ; he was used 
To serve the turn at a pinch; but I am now 
Quite unprovided. 

Asot. My mother-in-law is, sure. 
At her devotion. 

Coris. There are none but our slaves left. 
Nor are they to be trusted. Some great women, 
Which I could name, in a dearth of visitants, 
Rather than be idle, have been glad to Jflay 
At small game ; but I am so queasy-stomach'd, 
And from my youth have been so used to dainties, 
I cannot taste such yross meat. Some that are 
Diaw on their shoemakers, and take a fall [hungry 
From such as mend mats in their galleries ; 
Or when a tailor settles a petticoat on, 
Take measure of his bodkin ; fie upon't ! 
'Tis base ; for mv part, I could rather lie with 
A gallant's breeches, and conceive upon them. 
Than stoop so low. 

Asot. Fair madam, and my mother. [country, 

Coris. Leave the last out, it smells rank of the 
And shews coarse breeding ; your true courtier 

knows not 
His niece, or sister, from another woman. 
If she be apt and cunning. I could tempt now 
This fool, but he will be so long a working I 
Then he's my husband's son : — the fitter to 
Supply his wants ; I have the way already, 
I'll try if it will take. When were you with 
Your mistress, fair Cleora 1 

Asot. Two days sithence ; 
But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can [for her. 
Speak a penn'd speech I have bought and studied 
Her woman calls her away. 

Coris. Here's a dull thing ! 
But better taught, I hope. Send off your man. 

Asot. Sirrah, be gone. 

Grac. This is the first good turn 
She ever did me. [Exit 

Coris. W'e'W have a scene of mirth ; 
1 must not have you shamed for want of practice. 
1 stand here for Cleora, and, do you hear, minion, 
1 hat vou may tell her what her woman should do, 
Re])eat the lesson over that I taught you. 
When my young lord came to visit me ; if you miss 
In a sellable or posture 

Zant. I am perfect. 

Asot. Would I were so ! I fear I shall be out. 

Coiis. If ypu are, I'll helj) you in. Thus I walk 
You are to enter, and, as 3'ou pass by, [musing 

Salute my vs-oman ; — be but bold enough. 
You'll speed, I warrant you. Begin. 

Asot. Have at it 

Save thee, sweet heart ! a ki^s. 

Zant. A''enus forbid, sir, 
I should presume to taste your honour's lips 
Before mv lady. 

Coris. This is well on both parts. 

Asot. Mow does thy lady ? 

Zant. Happy in vour lordship, 



Scene III.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



10. 



As oft as she tliinks on you. 

Coris. Very good ; 
This wench will learn in time. 

Asot. Does she tliink of me? 

Za7it. O, sir! and speaks the best of you ; admires 
Your wit, your clothes, discourse ; and swears, but 

that 
You are not forward enough for a lord, you were 
The most complete and absolute man, — I'll shew 
Your lordship a secret. 

Asot. Not of thine own ? 

Zant. O ! no, sir, 
'Tis of my lady : but, upon your honour, 
You must conceal it. 

Asot. I5y all means. 

Zant. Sometimes 
I lie with my lady ; as the last night I did ; 
She could not say her prayers for thinking of you : 
Nay, she talk'd of you in her sleep, and sigh'd out, 

sweet Asotns, sure thou art so backward, 
That I must vaiush thee! and in that fervour 
She took me in her arms, threw me upon her, 
Kiss'd me, and hugg'd me, and then waked, and wept, 
Because 'twas but a, dream. 

Coris. This will bring him on, 
Or he's a block. A good girl ! 

Azot. I am mad, 
'J'ill I am at it. 

Zant Be not put off, sir, 
With, Awati, I dure not;—Jie, you are immodest; — 
My brother's up; — mtj father will hear. — Shoot home. 
You cannot miss the mark. [sir, 

Asot. There's for thy counsel. 
This is the fairest interlude, — if it prove earnest, 

1 shall wish I were a player. 

Coris. Now my turn comes. 
I am exceeding sick, pray you send my page 
For young Asotus, I cannot live without him ; 
Pray him to visit me ; yet, when he's present, 
I must be strange to him. 

Asot. Not so, you are caught : 
Lo, whom you wish ; behold Asotus here ! 

Coris. You wait well, minion ; shortly I shall not 
speak 
My thoughts in my private chamber, but they must 
Lie open to discovery. 

Asot. 'Slid, she's angry. 

Zant. No, no, sir, she but seems so. To her again. 

Asot. Lady, I would descend to kiss your hand, 
But thai 'tis gloved, and civet makes me sick ; 
And to presume to taste your lip's not safe, 
Your womsin by. 

Coris. 1 hope she's no observer 
Of whom 1 grace. \^Zanthia loohs on a hook. 

Asot. Slie's at her book, rare ! [Ai'sses her, 

Coris. A kiss for entertainment is sufficient ; 
Too much of one dish cloys me. 

Asot. I would serve in 
The second course ; but still I fear your woman. 

Coris. You are very cautelous *. 

l^Zanthia seems to sleep. 



• Coris. 3 'o« are eery caiiteliiHs.] This word occurs con- 
tinually III tlie si use of waiy, suspicious, over-circiun- 
spect, &c. 

"'I'liis cannot be Brisac, (hat woitliy gentleman. 

"He is too pnideiit, and loo cautelous: The Elder 
Brother; yit Mr. i\!. Ma!.on chooses to displace it for 
cautious, wliich, besides being a febler expression, ha.'* llie 
further rccuitiiiieii/l.iM.ii, of -|iniliii^ ihe iijeii,-. I cannot 
avoid subjoining, that this, and tlie preceding scene, ure most 

10 



Asot. 'Slight, she's asleep ! 
' lis pity these instructions are not printed ; 
They would sell well to chambermaids. 'Tis io 

time now 
To play with my good fortune, and your favour ; 
Yet to be taken, as they say : — a scout, 
lo give the signal when the enemy comes, 

[Fliii Zanthia, 
Were now worth gold. — She's gone to watch. 
A waiter so train'd up were worth a million 
To a wanton city madam. 

Coris. You are grown conceited*. 

Asot. You teach me. Lady, now your cabinet— 

Coris. You speak as it were yours. 

Asot. When we are there, 
I'll shew you my best evidence. 

Coris. Hold ! you forget, ' 

I only play Cleora's part. 

Asot. l\o matter, 
Now we've begun, let's end the act. 

Coris- Forbear, sir ; 
Your father's wife ! 

Asot. Why, being his heir, I am bound, 
Since he can make no satisfaction to you. 
To see his debts paid 

Enter Zanthia running. 

Zant. IVIadain, my lord 1 

Coris. ball off; 
I must tritle with the time too; hell confound it 

Asot. Plague on his toothless chaps ! he cannot 
do't 
Himself, yet hinders such as have good stomachs. 

Enter Cleon. 

Clean. Where are you, wife? I fain would go 
abroad , 
But cannot find my slaves that bear my litter ; 
I am tiled. Your shoulder, son; — nay, sweet, thy 
M hand too ; 
A turn or two in the garden, and then to supper. 
And so to bed. 

Asot. Never to rise, I hope, more. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— ^ Grove near the Walls (^Syracuse. 
Enter Pisandf.r and Polipiihon, A Table. 

Pisan. 'Twill take, 1 warrant thee. 

Pidiph. You may do your pleasure ; 
But, III mv judgment, better to make use of 
The present opportunity. 

Pisan. No more. 
■ PoLiph. 1 am silenced. 

Pisan. More wine ; prithee drink hard, friend, 
And wlien \\ e're hot, whatever 1 projicund. 

Enter Cimbrio, Graccijlo, and other Slaves. 

Second with vehemence. J\Ien of your words, all 

welcome ! 
Slaves use no ceremony ; sit down, here's a health. 

PoUph. Let it run round, fill every man his glass. 

GraC. We look for no waiters ; this is wnie ! 



scandalonsly given by both the editors ; scarcely a single 
speech being without a misprint or an omission. 

* Coiis. i'oic are yrown loiice'ixed,] i.e. facetious, witty* 
so in /lam AUfy or Merry Tricks, ItJll. 

Thruatg. What brought jiui liilhtr J 

Boat Why, these small legs. 

Throale. You are conceited, sir. 



lOS 



THE BOJJDMAN. 



[Act II 



Pisan. The better, [us 

Strong, lusty wine : drink deep, this juice will make 
As free as our lords. [Drinks. 

Grac. But if they find we taste it. 
We artval! damn'd to the (juarry during life, 
Without hope of redemption, 

Pisun. Fish ! for that 
We'll talk anon : another rouse* ! we lose time ; 

[Drinks. 
VVhen our low blood's wound up a little higher, 
I'll offer my design ; nay, we are cold yet ; 
'J"hese glasses contain nothing : — do me right, 

[Takes the bottle. 
As e'er you hope for liberty. 'J'is done bravely ; 
How do you feel yourselves now 1 

Ciinh. 1 begin 
To have strange conundrums in my head. 

Grac. And I [now, 

'I'd loath base water : I would be hang'd in peace 
For one month of such holidays. 

Fisan. An age, boys. 
And yet defy the whip ; if you are men, 
Or dare believe you have souls. 

Cimb. We are no brokers. 

Grac. Nor whores, whose marks are out of their 
mouths, they have nonef; 
They iiardly can get salt enough to keep them 
From stinking above ground. 

Pisan. Our lords are no gods — 

Grac. They are devils to us, I am sure. 

Pisan. liul subject to 
Cold, hunger, and diseases. 

Grac. In abundance. 
Your lord that feels no ach in his chine at twenty. 
Forfeits his privilege : how should their surgeons 
Or ride on their footcloths ? [build else, 

Piiuu. Equal Nature fashion'd us 
All in one mould. The bear serves not the bear, 
N'or the wolf the wolf; 'twas odds of strength in 

tyr..nts, ^ 

That pluck'd the first link from the golden chain 
With which that Thing of ThinosJ bound in the 

world. 
Why then, since we are taught, by their examples, 
To love our liberty, if not command, [ones ? 

Should the strong serve the weak, the fair, deform 'd 
Or sucli as know the cause of things, j)ay tribute 
To ignorant fools? All's but the outwaid gloss. 
And politick form, that does distinguish us. 
Cimbrio. thou art a strong man ; if, in place 
Of carrying burthens, thou hadst been train'd up 
In martial discipline, thou might'st have proved 
A general, fit to lead and fight for Sicily, 
As fortunate as Timoleon. 

Cfimb. A little fighting 
Will serve a general's turn. 

Pisan. Ihou, Gracculo, 
Hast fiuency ot language, quick conceit ; 
And, 1 tliink, cover'd with a senator's robe, 
Formally set on the bench, thou wouldst appear 
As brave a senator. 

Grac. Would I had lands, 



• — another rouse I] Another full glass, another bum- 
per. See the Duke of Milan. 

t Grac. Nor whores, whose markt are out of their mouths, 
Ihey havf none ;] 'I'h^y have none ; is omitted both by Coxe- 
ler and M. Mhsoij. 

; That Thivg op Things] A literal transUiion, as Mr. 
M. M«: n ob>trvts, of Ens Entidm. 1 know not where 
Pis.uKltr iicqtiiied his re\oliui<inary philosophy : big goldeo 
chain, perhaps he ioiind in Homer. 



Or money to buy a place ; and if I did not 
Sleep on the bench with the drowsiest of them, play 
with my chain, [and wear 

Look on my watch, when my guts chimed twelve, 
A state beard, with my barber's help, rank with 

them 
In their most choice peculiar gifts ; degrade me. 
And put me to drink water again, which, now 
I have tasted wine, were poison ! 

Pisan. 'Tis spoke nobly, 
And like a gownman : none of these, I think too, 
But would prove good burghers. 

Grac. Hum! the fools are modest ; 
I know their insides : here's an ill-faced fellow, 
( But that will not be seen in a dark shop,) 
If he did not in a month learn to outswear, [man 
In the selling of liis wares, the cunniiig'st trades- 
In Syracusa, I have no skill. Here's another. 
Observe but what a cozening look he has ! — 
Hold up thy head, man ; if, for drawing gallants 
Into mortgages for commodities^, or cheating heirs 
With your nevv counterfeit gold thread, and gumm'd 

velvets. 
He does not transcend all that went before him, 
Call in his patent: pass the rest; they'll all make 
Sufficient beccos, and with their brow-antlers 
Bear up the cap of maintenance. 

Pisan. Is't not pity, then. 
Men of such eminent virtues should be slaves? 

Cimb. Our fortune. 

Pisan. 'Tis your folly : daring men 
Command and make their fates. Say, at this instant, 
I mark'd you out a way to liberty; 
Possess'd you of those blessings, our proud lords 
So long have surfeited in ; and, what is sweetest. 
Arm you with power, by strong hand lo reveng& 
Your stripes, your unregarded toil, the pride. 
The insolence of such as tread upon 
Y'our patient sufferings ; fill your famish'd mouths 
With the fat and plenty of the land ; redeem you 
From the dark vale of servitude, and seat you 
Upon a hill of happiness ; what would you do 
To purchase this, and more ? 

Grac. Do ! any thing : 
To burn a church or two, and dance by the light on t, 
Were but a May-game. 

Poliph. I have a father living ; 
But, if the cutting of his throat could work this, 
He should excuse me. 

Cimb. 'Slight ! I would cut mine own 
Rather than miss it, so I might but have 
A taste on't, ere I die. 



• if, for drawing j/allant* 

Into mortyu(jes fur cuiimiuil.iits, ic.] i. e. tor wares, of 
which tlie mudy borrouer made what he conUI : " First, 
here's youns; master Rash ; he's in for a commodity of brown 
paper and old finger, ninescore and seventeen poiimls ; of 
which he made live marks ready money:" Measure for 
Meisure. Tliis is ridiculous enough; and, iudteii, our old 
writuis aie exireuiely pleasant on the heterogt neons arlulef, 
which the usurers ot their days forced on tlie necessity of 
the thuuiilukss spendtlirilt, in lieu of the money lor wliich 
he h.td rashly signed. Fielding has imitateil llieiii in his 
Mi.\er, without adding much to their humour: ami Fi">te, 
ill The Minor, Ims servilely followed his example The 
spectators ot those scenes probably thought that the wrileri. 
had gone beyond real life, and drawn on imagination for 
their amjisemeiit : but transactions (not allogeiher proper, 
perhaps, lo be specilied t.erej have actually taken place in 
our own times, which le.ive their boldest conceptions at 
an humble distance; aii'l prove, inyoiid a doubt, ihat in the 
arts ot raising monej , the invention of the most fertile poet 
must yield tu that of the meanest scrivener. 



Scene II.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



iw 



Pisaii. He resolute men, 
^011 ^sllall run no such hazard, nor groan under 
Tlie buithon of sucli crying- sins. 

CimI). The means? 

Grac. I feel a woman's longing. 

Polijih. Do not torment us 
With expectation. 

Pisciri. Thus, then: Our proud masters, 
And all the able freemen of the city, 
Are sjone unto the wars 

I'oliph. Observe but that. 

Pisan. Old men, and such as can make no resist- 
ance, 
Are only left at home 

Grac. And the proud young fool. 
My master: If this take, I'll hamper him. 



Pisan. Their arsenal, tiieir treasure, 's in out; 
power, 
If we liave iiearts to seize them. If our lords fall 
In the present action, the whole country's ours : 
Say they return victorious, we have means 
To kee[) the town against them : at the worst, 
'I'o make our own conditions. Now, if you dare 
Fall on their daughters and their wives, break up 
Their iron chests, banquet on their rich beds, 
And carve yourselves of all delights and i)leasure 
You have been barr'd from, with one voice cry wilh 
Liberty, liberty ! [me, 

AIL Liberty, liberty ! (doni: 

Pisan. Go tlien.and take posses-ion : use all tree- 
But shed no blood. — So, this is well begun ; 
liut not to be commended, till't be done. [Ereuitt, 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. — The same. A Room in Arciiidamus's 

House. 

Enter Pisandeu und Timandua. 

Pisan. Why, think you that I plot againstmyself *? 
Fear nothing, you are safe ; these tliick-skinn'd slaves 
1 use as in.-truments to serve my ends. 
Pierce not my deep designs ; nor shall they dare 
To lift an arm against you. 

Tiniand. With your will. 
Hut turbulent s]iirits, raised beyond themselves 
With case, are not so soon laid ; they oft prove 
Daiigeious to him that call'd them up. 

Pisan. ' lis true. 
In wh^it IS rashly undertook. Long since 
1 have consider'd seriously their natures. 
Proceeded with mature advice, and know 
I hold their wills and faculties in more awe 
I'han I can do my own. Now, for their license 
And riot in the city, I can make 
A just defence and use: it may appear too 
A politick prevention of such ills 
As might, ivith greater violence and danger. 
Hereafter be attempted ; though some smart for't. 
It matters not: — however, I'm resolved; 
And slecj) vou with security. Holds Cleora 
(Constant to her rash vow? . 

Timand. Beyond belief; 
To me, that see her hourly, it seems a fable. 
By signs I guess at her commands, and serve them 
With silence ; ,such her ])leasure is, made known 
By holding her tair hand thus. She eats little. 
Sleeps less, as 1 imagine ; once a day, 
I lead her to this gallery, where she walks 
Some half a dozen turns, and, having ofter'd 
To her absent saint a sacrifice of sighs. 
She points back to her prison. 

Pisan. Guide her hither, 
And make her understand the slaves' revolt; 
And, with your utmost eloquence, enlarge 



Their insolence, and rapes done in the city: 
Forget not too, I am their chief, and tell her 
^ ou strongly think my extreme dotiige on her, 
As I'm MaruUo, caused this sudden uproar 
To make way to enjoy her. 

Timand. Punctually 
I will discharge my part. [Ev«f. 

Enter PonPHnoN. 

Poliph. O, sir, I sought you : [loosp; 

You've miss'd the best* sport I Hell, I think's broke 
There's such variety of all disorders, 
As leaping, shouting, drinking, dancing, whojing. 
Among the slaves; answer'd with crying, howlingi 
By the citizens and their wives ; such a confusion. 
In a word, not to tire you, as. I think. 
The like was never read of. 

Pisan. 1 share in 
The pleasure, though I'm absent. This is some 
Revenge for my disgrace. 

Poliph. But, sir, 1 fear. 
If your authority restrain them not. 
They'll fire >he city, or kill one another, 
They are so a]it to outrage ; neither know I 
Whether you wish it, and came therefore to 
Acquaint vou with so much. 

Pisan. 1 will among them ; 
But must not long be absent. 

Poliph. At your pleasure. {^EiceHnt, 

SCENE II. — The same. Another Room in the wme. 

Shouts uithin. ^ Enter Cleoka a;id TiMANDnA. 

Timand. They are at our gates : my heart! affrights 
and horrors 
Increase each minute. No way left to save us. 
No flattering hope to comfort us, or means 
But miracle to redeem us from base lust 
And lawless rapine! Are there gods, yet suffer 
Such innocent sweetness to be made the spoil 



• Pisan ff'ht/, think you that I plot againxt mygelf?] 
Tlie pint opens here with wondirful address, and ihe suc- 
ce«'lii)K cuiiteie!>;i', or rathrr scene, between Pisander and 
Clvora, it inimitabl) beautiful. 



• You've, miss'd the beH sport!] Best, v.hic\\ is not li 
Coxeter, or M. Ma?on, is i>nly found in the liiat ediliuu 
seems necessary to the metre. 



fiX 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Ac. Ill 



Of brutish appetite? or, since tliey decree 
To rt'.in nature's masterpiece, of wliich 
TLev liave not left one pattern, must they choose, 
To set their tyranny oft", shives to pollute 
The s])ring of chastitv. and poison it 
Witli their most loath 'd embraces? and, of those, 
He, tliat should offer up his life to guard it, 
Marullo, curs'd ]\Iarullo, your own bondman. 
Purchased to >erve you, and led by your favours? — 
Nav, start not : it is he ; he, the grand captain 
Of these libidinous beasts, that have not left 
One cruel act undone, tliat barbarous conquest 
Vet ever practised in a captive city. 
He, doting on your beauty, and to have fellows 
In his foul sin, hatli raised these mutinous slaves 
Who have begun the game by violent rapes 
Upon the wives and daughters of their lords: 
And he, to quench the fire of his base lust. 
By force comes to enjoy you : — do not wring 
Your innocent hands, 'tis bootless; use the means 
TlMt may preserve you. 'I'is no crime to break 
A vow when vou are forced to it ; shew your face. 
And with the majestv of commanding beauty, 
Strike dead his loose affections: if that fail. 
Give liberty to your tongue, and use entreaties; 
There cannot be a breast of flesh and blood, 
Or heart so made of flint, but must receive 
Impression from your words ; or eyes so stern, 
But, from the clear reflection of your tears, 
Must melt, and bear them company. Will vou not 
Do these good offices to yourself? poor I, then. 
Can only weep your fortune : — here he comes. 

Rnler Pisandeh, speaking ai the door. 

Pisan. He that advances 
A^fool beyond this, comes upon my oword: 
You have had your ways, disturb not mine. 

Tinuind. Spevik gently. 
Her fears may kill her else. 

Pixan. Now Love mspire me! 
Still shall this canopy of envious right 
Obscure my suns of comtbrt? and those dainties 
Of ptirest Avhite and red, which I take in at 
My greedy eyes, denied my famisli'd senses? — 
The organs of your hearing yet are open ; 
And you infringe no vow, though you vouchsafe 
To give them warrant to convey unto 
Your understanding parts, the story of 
A tortured and despairing lover, whom 
Not fortune but affection marks your slave: — 
Shake not, best lady ! for believe't, you are 
As far from danger as 1 am from force- 
All violence I shall offer, tends no further 
Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare not 
Presume to do, till, by some gracious sign, 
Y'ou shew you are pleased to hear me 

Timand. If you are, 
Hold forth your right hand. 

{^Cleora holds forth her right hand. 
Pisan. So, tis done ; and I 
With my glad lips seal humbly on your foot, 
My soul's thanks for the favour : I forbear 
To tell you who I am, what wealth, what honours 
I made exchange of, to become your servant: 
And, though 1 knew worthy Leosthenes 
(For sure he must be worthy, for wlmse love 
Vou have endured so much) to be my rival ; 
When rage and jealousy counsell'd me to kill him, 
Which tb.en I could have done with much more ease, 
Than now, in fear to grieve you, 1 dare speak it. 



Love, seconded with duty, boldly told me 

The man 1 hated, fair Cleora favour'd: 

And that was his protection. [Cleora bom 

Timand. See, she bows 
Her head in sign of thankfulness. 

Pistin. He .-emoved by 
The occasion of the war (my fires increasing 
By being closed and stopp'd up.) frantic affection 
Prompted me' to do something in his absence. 
That might deliver you into my power. 
Which you see is effected ; and, even now. 
When my rebellious passions chide my dulness. 
And tell me how much I abuse my Ibrlunes, 
Now it is in my power to bear you hence, 

[^Clfiora starts 
Or take my wishes here, (nay, fear not, madam. 
True love's a servant, brutish lust a tyrant,) 
I dare not touch those viands that ne'er taste well. 
But when they're freely oJfer'd : only thus much. 
He pleased 1 may speak in my own dear tause. 
And think it worthy your consideration, 
(I have loved truly, cannot say deserved. 
Since duty must not take the nauie of merit,) 
That I so far prize your content, before 
All blessings that my hope can fashion to me, 
That willingly 1 entertain despair. 
And, for your sake, embrace it: for Tknow, 
This oi)])ortunity lost, by no endeavour 
The like can be recover'd. To conclude 
Forget not th;it 1 lose myself to save you : 
For what can I ex|iect but death and torture. 
The w;ir being ended ! and, what is a task 
Would trouble Hercules to undertake, 
1 do denj- you to myself, to give you, 
A ])ure unsj)otted present, to my rival. 
I have sail! : If it distaste not. best of virgins. 
Reward my temperance with some lawful favour, 
Thougii you contemn my person. 

\^Clei)ra kneels, then pnlls off her glove, and 
ojjers her hand to Pisander. 

Timand. i>ee, she kneels ; 
And seems to call upon tiie gods to pay 
The debt she owes your virtue : to perform which, 
Asa sure jiledge of friendship, she vouchsafes you 
Her fair* right haVid. 

Pisiin. I am paid for all my sufferings. 
Now, wlienyou plnase, pass toyour private chamber, 
Mv love and duty, faithful guards, shall keep you 
From all disturbance ; and when you are sated 
With thinking of Leosthenes, as a fee 
Due to my service, spare one sigh for me. 

[ Exeunt. Cleoja makes a low coartesy as she 
goes off. 



SCENE III.— The same. A Roomin Cleon's House. 

Enter Gracculo, leading Asotus in an ape's habit, 
with a chain about his neck ; Zanthia in ConiscA'e 
clothes, she bearing up her train. 

Grac. Come on, sir. 

As-A. Oh ! 

Grac. Do you grumble? you were ever 
A bramless ass ; but, if this hold, I'll teach you 
To come aloft, and do tricks like an ape. 
Your morning's lessen : »t you miss — 

Aiot. no, sir. 



• Her fair riyht hand] I have inserted fair frono the 
first quartu : the subseqiicut editions dropt it. 



Scene HI.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



101 



Orac. What for the Carthaginians ? [Asotus makes 

m I !/)/)« ] a good beast*. 

What tor ourself, your lord ! IDanres.] fZxceeding 

wellf. [so. 

There's your reward. Not kiss your paw ! So, so, 

Zaiit. Was ever hidy, the first day of her honour, 
So waited on by a wrinkled crone ? She looks now, 
Without her paintina:, curling-, and perfumes. 
Like tlie last dav of January ; and stinks worse 
Than .1 hot brache in the dogdays. Further oft"! 
So — stand there like an image ; if you stir. 
Till, witli a quarter of a look, I call you, 
You know what follows. 

Coiis. O, what am I fallen to ! 
But 'lis a punislunt'nt for niy lust and pride, 
Justly return 'd upon me. 

Gnic. How dost th(ju like 
Tliy ia^lyship, Zantliia ! 

2,7«t \'ery well ; and bear it 
With as much stare as your lordship. 

Giac. Give me thy hand : 
Let us, like con(|uering Romans, walk in triumph t. 
Our captives following : then mount our tribunals, 
And make the slaves our footstools. 

Zaiit. Fine, by Jove ! 
Are your hands cleiiii, minion ■? 

Coiis. Yes, fiirsooiii. 

Zaiit. Full off then. [duties 

So, now come on ; and, having made your three 
Down, I say — are you stiff in the hams '. — nowkneel, 
And tie our shoe : now kiss it, and be happy. 

Gi-<ic. I his is state, indeed. 

Ziiiu. It is sucli as she taught me ; 
A tickling itch of greatness, your proud ladies 
Expect Irom their poor waiters : we have changed 

jjiu'ts ; 
She does what she forced me to do in her reign, 
And I must jiractise it in mine. 

Grew. 'Tis justice : 
O I here come more. 



* rir.ic What for the Carthaginians:' [Aiotu< makes 
moppi's J Fpt this word, wliicti siiiiiities lliat quick iiiiil 
giiiiiiiii'.; iiiolimi of the tectli and lipswiiioli apes make when 
lliey are iiritated, and whicli is fimiid in both the copies, 
the niolern editors, in kindness to tlieir reader, I suppose, 
liave mouths: indeed, they do not seem to Inve understoixl 
the Imuiour ol this scene, which, iii boih, espei iall> in Mr. 
M. Mason, is most nej^liiieMtly printed. 

t ff hat for ourself, your lord/ Here Asostiis must be 
supposed 1 . coine aloft, i e. to leap, or lather tumble, in 
token of :^ali^t iction. Our ance>tors certainly excdl.d us 
in the eiluc iiion which they ijave to llieir animals. Banks's 
horse I.ir surp is>ecl all that have been brous;ht up in the 
academy ot i\!r. Vsiley; and the apes of tiiese days are 
incieel .wns to ihcir progenitors. The apes of \f issinner's 
time were gifted with a pretty sm itteriiit; of politics and 
phdo-opliy. The widow Wild iiad one of tiiein : " He would 
cqtne oner for all my Iriends, but was the doi;ged'-t 'liiiig 
to my enemies ; he would sit upon his tail before them, and 
frown like Johna-n ipes when the pope is named." The 
Parsiiii's iVedtllwj. Another may be found in Ham Alley: 
" Mel s ly jon've tricks; remember, noble captain. 

You -kip when I sh.dl shake my whip. Now, sir. 

What can you do lor the (rreat Turk? 

Wh.it can vou do for the Pope of Rome? 

Lo! 

He stirreth not, he movptli not, he waggeth not. 

What can you do for the town of Geneva, sirrah? 

[" Captain holds up his hand," &c. 
' J Orac. Give me thy hand : 

Ijet us, like eonquerini; Romans, wo^ft in triumph.] Grac- 
culo speaks in 'he spirit of prophecy ; for the conqurring 
Romans were at this time suin;i^lini; with their nei;;lili>ur3 
for a lew iiii«erible huts lo hide tlieir heads in; and if any 
captives followf.tl, or rather preceded, tlieir triumphs, U wa3 
« iierd of ^tolcll beeves. 



Enter Cimbrio, Ci-eon, Poliphron, and Olympia. 

Cimb. Discover to a drachma. 
Or I will famish thee. 

Clenu. O ! I am ])ined already. 

Cimh. Hunger shall force thee to cut off the brawns 
From thy arms and thighs, then broil them on the 
For carbonadoes. [coals 

PoUjih. Sjiare the old jade, he's founder'd. 

Grac. Cut his throat then. 
And hang him out for a scarecrow. 

Poliph. You have all your wishes 
In your revenge, and 1 have mine. You see 
I use no tyranny : when I was her slave. 
She kept nie as a sinner, to lie at her hack 
In frosty nights, and fed me high with dainties. 
Which still she hatl in her belly again ere morning 
And in requittil of those courtesies. 
Having made one another free, we are married f 
And, if you wish us joy, join with us in 
A dance at our wedding. 

Grac. Agreed ; for [ have thought of 
A most triiimpliant one, which shall expres.s 
We are lords, and these our slaves. 

Poliph. But we shall want 
A woman. 

Grac. No, here's Jane-of-apes shall serve • ; 
Carry vour bodv swimming — Where's the music ? 

Poliph. I have placed it in yon window. 

Grac. Begin then sjirightly. 

[Music, and then a danct 

Enter Pisander behind. 

Poliph. Well done on all aides ! I have prepared t 
Let's drink and cool us. [banquet; 

Grac. A good motion. 

Cimh. Wait here , 
You have been tired with feasting, learn to fast now 

Grac. I'll have an apple for Jack, and may b* 

May fall to vour share. [some scrapr 

[El cunt Grac. Zunt. Cimb. Poliph. and Olymp 

Coris. Whom can we accuse 
But ourselves, for what we suffer? Thou art just, 
Thou all-creating Power ! and misery 
Instructs me now, that yesterday acknowledged 
No deity beyond my lust and pride. 
There is a heaven above us, that looks down 
\Vith the eves of justice, upon such as nuinbei 
Those ble.ssings freely given, in the accompt 
Of t\m\r poor merits ; else it could not be. 
Now miserable I, to please whose palate 
The elements were ransack'd, yet complain'd 
Of nature, as not liberal enough 
In her provision of rarities 

To sooth my taste, and pamper my proud flesh, 
Should wish in vain for bread. 

Ciena. Yes, I do wish too. 
For what I fed my dogs with. 

Coris. I, that forgot 
I was made of flesh and blood, and thought the silk 
Spun bv the diligent worm, out of their entrails, 
Too coarse to clothe me, and the softest down 
Too hard to sleep on ; that disdain'd to look 
On virtue being in rags, that stopp'd my nose 
At those that did not use adulterate arts 
To better nature ; that from those that served me 
Expected adoration, am made justly 



• Grac. A'o, here's Jane-of-apes shall serve;] Meaning 
Corisca : lie pl.ijs upon Jack-an-apes, the uaiue ue iiad 
t^ivKii Ui Asuius 



106 



THE BOINDMAN'. 



[A CI lit 



The scorn of my own bondwoman. 

Asot. I am punish'd, 
For sffkiiig to cucliold mine own natural father: 
H;id J been jjelded then, or used myself 
Like a man, I hnd not been transfonn'd, and forced 
To play an overgrown ape. 

Ctetm. I know I cannot [both ; 

Last long, tliat's all my comfort. Come, I forgive 
'Tis in vain to be angry ; let us, therefore, 
Lament together like friends. 

Pisan. What a true mirror 
Were this sad spectacle for secure greatness ! 
Here they, that never see themselves, but in 
The glass of servile flattery,. might behold 
The weak ibundation upon which they build 
Their trust in human frailty. Happy are those, 
That knowing;, in their births, they are subject to 
Uncertain change, are still |)yepared, and ann'd 
For either fortune : a rare principle, 
And with much labour, learn'd in wisdom's school ! 
For, as these bondmen, by their actions, shew 
That their prosperity, like too large a sail 
For their small bark of judgment, sinks them with 
A fore-right gale of liberty, ere they reach 
The port they long- to touch at : so these wretches, 
Swollen with the false opinion of their vvortli. 
And proud of blessings left tliem, not acquired ; 
That did believe they could with giant arms 
Fathom the earth, and were above their fates, 
Those borrow'd helps, that did sujjport them, van- 

ish'd, 
Fall of them-elves, and by unmanly suifering, 
lietray their proper weakness, and make known 
Their boasted greatness was lent, not (heir own. 

Cteoii. O for some meat ! they sit long, 

Coris. \Vc forgot. 
When we drew out intemperate feasts till midnight; 
Their hunger was not thought on, nor their watch- 

ings ; 
Nor did we hold ourselves served to the height, 
But when we did exact and force their duties 
Beyond their strength and power. 

Asot. We pay for't now : 
I now could be content to have my head 
Broke with a rib of beef, or ibr a coffin. 
Be buried in the dripping pan. 

Re-enter Poliphon, Cimbrio, Graccui.o, Zanthia, 
ajui Olympia, drunk and quarrelling. , 

Cimh. Do not liold me: 
Not kiss the bride! 
PoLiph. No, sir. 

Cimh. She's common good, 
And so we'll use her. 

Ctruc. We'll have nothing private. 

Pimm, {coming J nrirard] llold! 

Zant. Here's Alarullo. 

Olijnip. He's your qhief. 

Cimh. We are equals ; 
I will know no obedience. 

Grac. Nor superior — 
Nay, if you are lion-drunk. I will make one; 
For light.y evi r lie that parts the fray, 
Goes away with the blows.* 



• /'or lii;hi!y erer he that parti the fray. 

Cars awiii/ with the blown. Liyhtly is commonly, usu- 
lll\ ; s<i in 'I'he New /nn : 

liean \\ liat iuMilfiii, half-witted thins;', these are; 

l.at. >'ii iiie all Miiatteiers, insolent and impudent ; 
TliKi liyhtly y^o tui;ctlier 



Pisan. Art thou mad too ? 
No more, as ypu respect me, 

Poliph. 1 obey, sir. 

Pisan. Quarrel among yourselves 

Cimh. \'es, in our wine, sir. 
And for our wenches. 

Grac. How could we be lords else? 

Pisun. Take lieed ; I've news will cool this heat 
Remember what you were. fand make you 

Cimh.. How ! 

Pisun. Send off these, 
And then Fll tell you. [Zanthia heats Corisca. 

Olqmp. 'I'iiis is tyranny. 
Now she offends not. 

Zant. 'i is for exercise, 
And to help digestion. What is she good for else? 
To me it vMi-s her language. 

Pisun. Lead her off. 
And take heed, madam minx, the wheel may turn. 
Go to your meat ami rest ; and from tliis hour 
Remember he that is a lord to day. 
Way be a slave tomorrow. 

Clean. Good morality ! 

{Exeunt Clean. Asot. Zant. Olijmp. and Coiis, 

Cimh. iiut what would )ou impart '. 

.Pisan. What must invite you 
To stand upon your guard, and leave' j-our feasting 
Or but imagine what it is to be 
Most miserable, and rest assured you are <>o. 
Our masters are victorious. 

All. How ! 

Pisun. Within 
A day's march of the city, flesh 'd with spoil, 
And )iroud of conqtitst ; the armado sunk 
The Carthaginian admiral, hand to hand, 
Slain by Leostheiies. 

Cimh. 1 feel the whip 
Upon my back already, 

Grac. Every man 
Seek a convenient tree, and hang himself. 

Poliph. Better die once, than live an age, to suffer 
New tortures every hour. 

Cimh. Sav, we submit. 
And yiold us to their mercy ? — 

Pisun. Can you flatter 
Yourselves with such false hopes? O' dare you tliink 
That your imperious lords, that never fail'd 
To punish with severity petty slips 
In your neglect of laboui", may be won 
To pardon those licentious outrages 
Which noble enemies forbear to practise 
Upon the conquer'd ? What have you omitted. 
That may call on their just revenge with horror 
And studied cruelty ? we have gone too far 
To think now of retiring ; in our courage. 
And daring*, lies our safety ; if you are not 
Slaves in your abject minds, as in your fortunes. 
Since to die is the worst, better expose 
Our naked breasts to their keen swords, and sell 
Our lives with the most advantage, than to trust 
In a forestall'd remission, or yield up 
Our bodies to the furnace of their fury; 
Thrice heated with levenne. 



Again, in The Kox : 

" I knew 'twould lake ; 

For liyhtly, iliey that use themselves most license 
Are slill mo-l jealous." 

• in onr courayr. 

And darini;, lies our safety ;] The old copies read during 
but it is uu evident misprint. 



SCXNE IV.] 



THE BONDMAN 



Grac. You led us on. 

Cimh. And 'tis but justice you should bring us off. 

Grac. And we expect it. 

Pisaii. Hear then and obey me; 
And 1 will either save you, or fall with you : 
Man the walls strongly, and make good the ports ; 
.Boldiv deny their entrance, and ri|> up 
Your grievances, and what compell d you to 
This desperate course : if they disdain to hear 
Of composition, we have in our powers 
Their aijed fathers, children, and their wives', 
Who, to preserve themselves, must willingly 
Make intercession for us. 'Tis not time now 
To talk, hut da : a glorious end, or freedom, 
Is now proposed us ; stand resolved for either. 
And, like good felloA-s, live or die together. 

[ Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. — The Country near Syracuse. Tfie 
Camp of Timoleon. 

Enter Leosthenes and Timat-oras. 

Timag. I am so far from envy, 1 am proud 
You have outstri|ip'd me in the race of honour. 
O 'twas a glorious day, and bravely won ! 
Your bold per!'ormaiice gave such lustre to 
Timoleon's wise directions, as the army 
Rests doubtful, to whom they stand most engaged 
For their so great success. 

Least. The gods first honour'd. 
The glorv be the general's ; 'tis far from me 
To be his rival. 

Timag. You abuse your fortune, 
I'o entertain her choice and gracious favours 
With a contracted brow ; plumed \'ictory 
Is truly jiainted with a cheerful look, 
E'lually distant from proud insolence, 
And base dejection. 

Least. O iiinagoras. 
You oidy are acquainted with the cause 
That loads my sad heart with a hill of lead ; [nour 
Whose ponderous weight, neither my new-got ho- 
Assisted by the general iipplnuse 
The soldier crowns it with*, nor all war's glories 
Can lessen or remove : and would you please, 
With fit consideration, to remember 
How much 1 wrong'd Cleora's innocence 
With mv rasli doubts ; and what a grievous penance 
She did impose UT)on her tender sweetness, 
To pluck away the vulture jealousy. 
That fed upon my liver ; you cannot blame me, 
But call it a fit just ce on myself. 
Though I resolve to be a stranger to 
'J"he thought of mirth or pleasure. 

Timag. You have redeem'd 
The forfeit of your fault with such a ransom 
Of lionourable action, as my sister 
Must of necessity confess her sufferings 



• The siildicr crowns it irith.] This is a niacli better 
reading; t'laa ti,e suphistication uf tlie modern editors, the 
%oldicTt croa-n, ice. 



Vv'^eigh'd down by your fair merits ; and, when she 

views vou, 
J^ike a trium})hant conqueror, carried through 
The streets of Syracusa, the glad people 
Pressing to meet you, and the senators 
Contending who shall heap most honours on you ; 
The oxen, crown'd with garlands, led before you. 
Appointed for the sacrifice ; and the altars 
Smoking with thankful incense to the gods ; 
The soldiers chanting loud hymns to your praise. 
The windows filTd with matrons and with virgins. 
Throwing upon your head as you pass by. 
The choicest flowers, and silently invoking 
The queen of love, with their particular vows, 
To be thought worthy of you ; can Cleora 
(Though, in the glass of self-love, she behold 
Her best deserts) but with all joy acknowledge, 
What she endured was but a noble trial 
You made of her affection ] and her anger. 
Rising from vour too amorous cares*, soon dvench'd 
In Lethe, and forgotten. 

Least. If those glories 
You so set forth were mine, they might plead for me ; 
But I can lay no claim to the least honour 
Which you, with foul injustice, ravish from her 
Her beauty in 7ne wrought a miracle, 
Taught me to aim at things beyond my power, 
"Which her perfections purchased, and gave to me 
From her free bounties ; she insjjired me with 
That valour which I dare not call mine own ; 
And, from the fair reflexion of her mind. 
My soul received the sparkling beams of courage. 
.She, from the magazine of her proper goodness, 
Stock'd me with virtuous purposes; sent me forth 
To trade fpr honour ; aiul, she being the owner 
Of the bark of my adventures, I must yield her 
A just account of all, as fits ii factor. 
And, howsoever others think me happy. 
And cry aloud, I have made a prosperous voyagp. 
One frown of her dislike at my return. 
Which, as a punishment for my fault, 1 look for 
Strikes dead all comfort. 

Timag. Tush ! these fears are needless ; 
She cannot, must not, shall not, be so i ruel. 
A free confession of a fault wins pardon. 
But, being seconded by desert, commands it. 
The general is your own, and, sure, my father 
Repents his harshness ; for myself, I am 
Ever your creature. — One day shall be happy 
In your triumph, and your marriage. 

Least. May it prove so. 
With her consent and pardon. 

Timag. Ever touching 
On that harsh string ! She is your own, and you 
Without disturbance seize on what's your due. 

[Exeunt. 

• Rising from your too amorous cares.] The old copiei 

read eares, "which seems merely an error of the press, for 

cares. Coxetcr, however, prnited it ears, which, being 

without any meaning, was corrected at random by jVIr. M. 

I Mason into fears. The correction was not amits; but the 

! £eniiine word is undoubtedly that which I have jjiven. 



108 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Act IV. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — Syracuse. A Room in Arcliidamus's 

House. 

Enter Pisandkh and Timakdra. 

Pisnn. She lias lier healtli, then ? 

Timuiid. Yes, sir ; and as often 
As I speak of vou, lends attentive ear 
To all that I deliver; nor seems tired, 
Tliougli 1 dwell long; on the relation of 
Your sufferings for her, heaping praise on praise 
On your uneejuall'd temperance, and command 
You hold o er your affections. 

Pisan. To my wish : 
Have you acquainted her with the defeature* 
Of the Carthaj^inians, and \vith what honours 
Leoslhenes conies crown'd home with? 

Timand. With all care. 

Pisan. And how does she receive it? 

Timund. As I g;uess. 
With a seeming- kind of joy ; but yet appears not 
Transported, or jiroud of his happy fortune. 
But when I tell her of the certain ruin 
You must encounter with at tlieir arrival 
In Syracusa, and that death, with torments, 
Alust fall u])on 3'ou, which you yet repent nor, 
Esteeming it a glorious martyrdom, 
And a reward of jiure unspotted love. 
Preserved in the white robe of innocence, 
Tliough she were in your power ; and, still spurr'd on 
By insohnt lust, you rather chose to suffer 
Tlie fruit untasted, for whose glad possession 
You livive ciill'd on the furv of your lord. 
Than that she should be grieved, or tainted in 
Her rpjiutatioii 

Pisan. Doth it work compunction? 
Pities she my misfortune? 

Timund. She express'd 
All signs of sorrow which, her vow observed, 
Could witness a grieved heart. At the first hearing, 
She fell upon her face, rent her fair hair. 
Her hands held up to hea\ en, and vented sighs, 
Jn wliicli she silently seem'd to complain 
Of heaven's injustice. 

Pisan. 'Tis enough : wait carefully. 
And, on all watch d occasions, continue 
Speecli and discourse of me ; 'tis time must work her. 

Timand. I'll not be wanting, but still strive to 
serve you. [Ljjt. 

Enter Poliphron. 
Pisan. Now, Poliphron, the news '■ 
Polipb. The concjuering army- 
Is within ken. 

Pisan. How brook the slaves the object? 

Poliph. Cheerfully yet ; they do refuse no labour, 



• Have ynu acquainted her with the defeature] The mo- 
dern Kliiors ieni..vi(l iliis word iit liivonr of defeat, and, 
doubtless, iip'plan'li'd their l.ibonr;it hdppiiis, hiiwever, as 
in most cafes where they have inlerpo>e<l, lh.it Ihiy might 
h»ve spared it all(is;ellier : fur thi- words an- ihe #aliie, and 
used indisciiiiiiiiaul) h\ our old wiiiers: " Desfaicte," 
says C<iii;i,ive, " a defeat, or defeature ;" and, in Ihe sicond 
part of his (Ij.tioii.iiN, he verb.dly lepials Ihe explanation. 
There i> imirh stranye coiij. eliire on tt is woiii, in the last 
act of The. Comedy of Errors: I "onder ihat i.oiie <if the 
conimeiilalois sh.uld lit;hl upon its it.eanins; ;— but it was 
too tiinpiu for their appreheuiion. 



And seem to scoff at danger ; 'tis your presence 

Tliat must confirm them: with a full consent 

You are chosen to relate the tyranny 

Of our jiroud masters; and what you subscribe to. 

They gladly will allow of, or hold out 

'J"o the last man. 

Pisa«. I'll instantly among them. 
If we prove constant to ourselves, good fortune 
Will not, I hope, forsake us. 

Poiiph. 'Tis our best refuge. [Eieum, 



SQENE 11.— Before the walls ^/Syracuse. 

Enter TiMOLEOs, A ncKiDAMus, Dirnii.us, Leosthenes, 
liMAGOP. AS and soldiers. 

Timol. Thus far we are returr'd victorious ; crown'd 
With wreaths triumphant, (famine, blood, and death, 
Banish'd your peaceful confines,) and bring iiome 
Security and peace. 'Tis therefore fit 
That such as boldly stood the shock of w-ar. 
And with the dear expense of sweat and blood 
Have purchased honour, should with pleasure reap 
The harvest of their toil : and we stand bound 
Out (if the first file of the best deservers, 
(1 hough all must be consider'd to their merits,) 
To think of you, Leosthenes, that stand, 
And worthily, most dear in our esteem, 
For your heroic valour. 

Archid. W hen I luok on 
The labour ol so many men and ages, 
'J his well-built city, not long siiu e design'd 
To spoil and r.ipiiie, by the favour of 
The gods, and you, their iiiinisier.s, jirese-veil, 
I cannot, in my height of joy, but ofier 
These tears for a glad sacrifice. 

Diph. Sleep die citizens! 
Or are they overwhelm d willi ilie excess 
Of comfort tlr.it flows to them ] 

Least. We ri ccive 
A silent entertainment. 

Timag. 1 long since 
Exjieclid that the virgins and ihe matrons, 
'Ihe old men striving with iheir age, the priests, 
Carrying the images of their gods before them, 
Should have met us with procession. -Ha! the gates 
Are shut against us! 

Archid. And tijion the walls 
Arm'd men seem to defy us ! 

Enter above, on the Walls, Pisandet!, Poliphron, 
CiMBHio, Ghacculo, and ihe rest. 

Diph, I should know 
These faces : they are our slaves. 

Timag. Tlie mystery, rascals! 
Ojien t e ports, and play not with an anger 
That will consume you. 

Timol. 'I his is above w-onder. 

Archid. Our bondmen stand against us ! 

Grac. Some such things [turn'd 

We w-ere in man's remembrance. The slaves are 
Lords of the town, or so — nay, be not angry: 
Perhaps, upon good terms, giving security 
You will be ijuiet men, we may allow )-ou 
Some lodgings in our garrets or outhouses: 
Your great looks cannot cany it. 



SCENK II.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



t09 



Ciinh. The truth is, 
We've beei bold with your wives, toy'd with your 
d-iu:;'liter,s 

Least. O mv prophetic soul! 

Gnic. I'liHed your chests, 
Been busv wirli your wardrobes. 

Tlni'ig. Can we eiiilure this? 

Lemt. O my C'leoni! 

Gruc. A c;iudle for the gentlemaa ; 
He'll die o' the pip else. 

Tini'ig. Scorn 'd too! are you turn'd stone? 
F{old jv.irlev vviih our bondiuen ! force our entrance. 
Then, villains, expect— — 

Timnl. Hold! you weai- men's shapes. 
And if, like men, you have r.-ason, shew a cause 
That lea-Is vou to this desperate course, vv'hrch must 
In voiir destruction. [end 

Grac. That, as please the fates ; 
But we vouchsafe Speak, captain. 

Timig. HhH and furies ! 

Archid. Bay'd by our own curs! 

Ciinh. Take Iieed you be not worried. 

Pnlifih. We are sharp set. 

Ciinh. And sudden. 

Pisni. Briefly .thus, then. 
Since 1 miist speak for all ; your tyranny 
Drew us from our obedience. Ha[)py those times 
When lords were styled fathers of families, 
And not impeiious masters! when lliey numher'd 
Their servants alt.jost equal with their sons. 
Or one des^ree beneath them ! when their labours 
W^ere cherish'd and rewarded, and a period 
Set to their sufferings; wlien they did not press 
Their duties or their wills b«^yond the power 
And stren;j,th of their peri'ormacice! all things or- 
Wirh sucli decorum as* wise lawmakers, [der'd 

From each well-govern 'd private house derived 
The ]ierfect model of a conmionwealth. 
Humanity tlien lodged in the hearts of men, 
.\nd thankful masters carefully provided 
For creatures wanting reason. The noble horse, 
That, in his fiery youth, froiti his wide nostrils. 
Neigh'd courage to his rider, and brake thiough 
Groves of o|)posed pikes, bearing his lord 
Safe to triun)pliant victory; old or wounded, 
VVas set at liberty, and freed from service. 
The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew 
Marble, lieu'd for tlie temples of the gods, 
The great work ended, were dismiss'd, and fed 
At the public tost ; nay, faithful dogs have found 
Theit sepulchres ; but man, to man more cruel. 
Appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave ; 
Since pride stepp'd in and riot, and o'erturn'd 
I'his goodly frame of C(mcord, teaching masters 
To glory in the abuse of such as are 
Brought under their command ; who, grown un- 

useful. 
Are less esteem'd than beasts. — This you have 

practised, 
Practised on us with rigour ; this hath forced us 
To shake our heavy yokes off; and, if redress 
Of these just grievances be not granted us, 
We'll right ourselves, and by strong hand defend 
What we are now possess'd of. 

Grac. And not leave 
One house unfired. 



* Hith such decorum as wise lawmakers] .4.5, in this 
pass.-ige, has ilie force i)f that. M. Maso.x. 
Or rallier iliere is an elliosis of tliat, as iisu il. 



Cimh. Or throat upcut of those 
We have in our piwer. 

Poliph. N</r will we fall alone ; 
You shall buy US dearly. 

Timag. O the god.s ! 
Unheard-ot insolence! 

Timol. What are your demands? 

Pisan. A gener.d pardon* first, for all offences 
Committed in yotn- absence. Liber y 
To all such as desire to make return 
Into their countries : and, to lho.se that stay, 
A competence of land freely allotted 
To each man's ])roper u.-".e, no lord acknowledged : 
Lastly, witli your consent, to choose them wives 
Out of your fa;:iilies. 

Timag. Let the citv sink firsr. 

Least. And ruin seize on all, ere we subscribe 
To such conditions. 

Archid. (Jarthage, ihough victorious, 
Could not have forced more from us. 

Least. Scale the walls ; 
Capitulate alter. 

Timai. He that wins the top first, 
Shall wear a mural wreath. [E.ieinit. 

Pimn. Each to his place. [Flcuri^h and uLtrms.i 

Or death or victory ' Charge them home, and fear 

not. [^V.xeunt Pisunder and Slaves. 

Re-enter Timoi.eon, Arciiida.mus. and Senators. 

Timol. We wrong ourselves, and we are justly 
punish'd, 
To deal with bondmen, as if we encounter'd 
An equal enemy. 

.-irchid. 1 hey fight like devils ; 
And run upon our swords, as if their breasts 
Were proof beyond then- armour. 

Re-enter Leostiienis and Timagoiias. 

Timag. Make a firm stand. 
The slaves, not satisfied they have beat us oft", 
Prepare to sally forth. 

Timol. They are wild beasts. 
And to be tamed by policy. Each man take 
A tough whip in his hand, such as ynu usfd 
To punish them with, as masters : in vour looks 
Carry severity and awe ; 'twiil iright them 
]\Ioie than your weajions. Savage lions fiv from { 
The sight of fire ; and these, that have forgjt 
That duty you ne'er taught them with your swords, 
When, unexpected, they behold those terrors 
Advanced aloft, that they were made to ."hake --V, 
'Iwiil force them to remember what they are. 
And stuop to due obedience. 

Archid. Here they come. 

Enter, from the Citii, CiMBnio, Giiacculo, and other 
Shives. 

Cimh. Leave net a man alive; a wound's but a 
To what we suft'er'd, being slaves. [flea-biting 

* Pisan. A yeneral pardon, &c.\ It isevidint, troin the 
unre;is(jiiable n.iliiiK ui iheM; dtfinaiids, that l'i>.<iiili r iloug 
not wi.-li tlieiii to he accepted. 'Ihc l.i»l ai licit-, iiilciil, has 
a lel'crcncc to hiiiiitcli, bal lit s cms desiioii> ol piniu.uly 
Iryiiii; the fortune of aiin^. See, however, the ne.\t ^celle, 
and lii.s defence, in tile last act. 

f [Flourish and alinn-.] Floiiiish and arms, says Mr. M. 
Mason, alter Coxeter. >io degree of nonsense could tempt 
him to consult the oM copie.s. 

I • Savaye lions fij fiom, &.Q. A tian.sient pas.sion 

for the aiilii|iie has here .-eized the modern editors: lliey 
print salvage lion.s, Ac. It is nidiic.ily a lilile mala -pio- 
po.', for the old copy reads as 1 have given il. (OniiUcd ID 
Ed. 1813). 



iir 



THE BONDMAN. 



FAcT IV 



Grac. O, my lieart ! 
Cimbrio. what do we see ? the wliip ! our masters* ! 

Timug. Dare voii rebel, shives ! 

[77(c Senators shake their uhips, the Slaves 
throw awaq their ueapons , and run off.' 

VAmh. Wercv ! mercy ! wliere 
Sliall we liide us from their fury? 

Grac. Flv, thev follow; 
0, we shall be tormenfed ! 

Tiinnl. Knter with them. 
But vet forbear to kill them: still remember 
'I'liev are part of vour w'ealth ; and being disarm'd, 
Tliere is no danger. 

Archid. Let u.s first deliver 
Such as thev have in fetters, and at leisure 
Deteiinine of iheir punishment. 

I.eost. Friend, to you 
I leave the disposition of what's mine : 
I cannot iliink I am safe without your sister. 
She is only worth my thought; and, till I see 
What she has suft'er'd, 1 am on the rack, 
And furies my tormentors. [Eieunt. 



SCENE III. — Syracuse. A Room in Archidamus's 
House, 

Enter Pisander anrfTiMANDRA, 

Pisan. I know I am pursued ; nor would I fly. 
Although the ports were open, and a convoy 
Readv to bring me oft": the baseness of 
These villains, from the jiride of all my hopes, 
Hath thrown me to the bottomless abyss 
Of horror and des])air : bad thev stood firm, 
1 could have bought Cleora's free consent 
With the safety of her lather's life, and brotlier's; 
And forced Leosthenes to (juit his claim, 
And kneel a suitor for me f. 

Tiinand. \ on must not think [tised, 

What might have been, but what must now be prac- 
And suddenly resolve. 

Pisan. All my j)Oor fortunes 
Are at the stake, and I must run the hazard. 
Unseen, convey me to Cleora's chamber; 
For in her sight, if it were ])ossible, 
I would be apprehended ; do not entjuire 
The reason why, hut hel[) me. 

Timand. Make haste, — one knocks. [£ijt Pisander. 
Jove turn all to the best ! 

Enter Leosthenes. 

You are welcome, sir. 
Leost, Thou giv'st it in a heavy tone. 



• Cimbrio, what do we see ? the whip ! our masters .'] " O 
most l^iiie and iijjpiiliiit cdiicIhskui !" Surely Massinger 
was not K> siiictly biiuiid to (lie literal rel.ilioii of t'liis 
tbolUh adventure, but tliat lie niUlit liave niveii it a Utile 
probability, if it were ■■nly to maintain the decoiuni of liis 
aclion, and the iuterisi of his iimkr-ploi. He soineiinies 
di-vi.iics from his anlln'ritics with fewer prospects of advan- 
tage than were here opened to him. 

t And kneel a suitor lor me.] This is the reading of all 
the of I eo(jies, and is nndonbtedly genuine ; yet the modern 
editors, by an obli(iui:y of reasoning into which 1 cannot 
enter, choose to vary the expressimi, and print, 
kneel a suitor to me .' 

Is it not evidci't " to any formal opacity ," that Pisander 

means, If mv de^is-iis liad sucieeded, I wonld not only 

to renonme his pretensions to 
her l.ith. r anil bnuher to t;ive 
herlo.me: what is there in this ih.it requires alteration, 
especially iiiio nnnsense i for Leosthenes could have nothing 



have compelled Leoslln 
Cleora, but even tii en 



to ask of i isamU 



Timand. Alas ! sir, 
We have so long fed on tbe bread of sorrow, 
Drinking the bitter water of afflictions. 
Wade loathsome too by our continued fears, 
Comfort's a stranger to us. 

Leost. Fears! your sufferings*: — 
For which I am so overgone with grief, 
I dare not ask, without compassionate tears. 
The villain's name that rohb'd thee of lli\ hciiour* 
For being train'd up in chastity's cold school. 
And taught by such a mistress as Cleora, 
'Twere impious in me to think Timandra 
Fell with her own consent. 

Timand. How mean you, fell, sir? 
I understand you not. 

Leost. 1 w.ould thou did'st not, 
Or that I could not read upon thy face. 
In blushing characters, the story of 
Libidinous rape: confess it, for you staud not 
Accountable for a sin, against whose strength 
Your o'erniatch'd innocence could make no resi.st* 
Under which odds, I know, Cleora fell too, [ance^ 
Heaven's hel]) in vain invoked ; the amazed sun 
Hiding his face behind a mask of clouds, 
Not daring to look on it ! In her sufferings 
All sorrows comprehended : what Timandra, 
Or the city, has endured, her loss consider 'd. 
Deserves not to be named. 

Timand. Fray you do not bring, sir. 
In the chimeras of vour jealous fears, 
New monsters to affright us. 

Leost. 0, I'imandra, 
That ) had faith enough but to believe thee ! 
I should receive it with a jov beyond 
Assurance of Elysian shades hereafter, 
Or all the blessings, in this life, a mother 
Could wish her children crown'dwiih, — but 1 must 
("redit im])0-.sibilities ; yet I strive [not 

To find out that whose knowledge is a curse. 
And ignorance a blessing. Come, disco\er 
What kind of look he had that forced ihy lady, 
(Thy ravisher I will enquire at leisure,) 
That when, hereafter, 1 heboid a stranger 
But near him in asjicct, I may conclude, 
Tliough men and angels should proclaim him honest. 
He is a hell-bnd villain. 

Timand. You are unworthy 
To know she is jjieserved, preserved untainted 
Sorrow, but ill bestow'd, hath only made 
A rape upon her comforts in your absence. 
Come forth, dear madam. [^Leads in Cleora. 

Leost. H a ! [Kneels 

Timand. Nay, she deserves 
The bending of your heart ; that, to content you, 
Has ke])t a vow, the breach of which a Yestal, 
Though the infringing it had call'd upon her 
A living funeral, t must of force have slnuiik at. 
No danger could compel her to dispense with 

• Leost. Fears! your sufferings: — ] The character of 
Leosthenes is everywhere preserved with great ninety. His 
jealous disposition breaks out in this scene with peculiar 
be.iuty. 
+ 'I'houyh the infringing it had call'd upon her 
A living luner.d, &c.] I'he poet alludes lo the manner in 
whicli the Vestals, who had broken their vow of chastity, 
were punished. I tie> h.id literally a living funeral, being 
pluimed alive into a subterraocius cavern oi which the 
opining was iinnii diately closed upon them, and w.illed up. 
The coiiliisioii of countries and of customs may possibl;f 
strike tlie critical leeler : but of this, as I have alie.idy ob 
served, our ohl dramatists were not aware or solicitous. 



Scene 111.] 



THF. J50NDMAN. 



Itl 



Her cruel penance, thougli liot lust c:ime arm'd 
To seize upon Iier ; wlien one look or accent 
Might liyive redeem'd !ier. 

Least. Might ! O do not sliew me 
A beam ot'comfoirt, and straight take it from me. 
,'lie means bv whicli slie was freed? spe:ik, O speak 

quickly; 
Each minute of delay's an age of torment ; 

speak, I imandr.i. 

l^iniciiid. Free iier from her oath ; 
Herself can best deliver it. 

Least. O blest office I [Uiihiuds her eyes. 

Never did oalley-slave shiike off his chains, 
Or look'd on his redemption from the oar, 
With such true feeling of deliglit as now 

1 find mvself possessed of. — Now I behold 
True light indeed ; for, since these fairest stars, 
Cover'd with clouds of your determinate will. 
Denied their influence to my optic sense, 

The sjdendour of the sun appenr'd to me 

But as some little gumpse of his bright beams 

Convey'd into a dungeon, to remember 

The dark inhabitants theie, how much they wanted*. 

Open these long-shut lips, and strike mine ears 

With music more harmonious than the spheres 

Yield in their heavenly motions : and if ever 

A true submission for a crime acknowledged, 

May find a gracious hearing, teacii your tongue. 

In the first sweet articulat.' sounds it utters, 

To sign my wish'd-for pardon. 

Clea. I forgive you. 

Least. Hi)w greedily I receive this ! Stay, best lady, 
And let me by degrees ascend the height 
Of human ha])piness ! all at once deliver'd, 
The torrent of my joys will overwhelm nie :- — 
So now a little more ; and ])ray excuse me. 
If, like B wanton epicure, I desire 
The pleasant taste these cates of comfort yield me. 
Should not loo soon be swallow'd. Have you not. 
By your unspotted truth I do conjure you 
To answer truly, sufler'd in your lionour. 
By force. I mean, lor in your will I free you, 
Since 1 left Syracusa? 

Cleo. I restore 
This kiss, so help me goodness! which I borrow'd, 
When I last saw you f. 

Least. Miracle of virtue ! 
One ])ause more, I beseech you ; ^I ani like 
A man whose vital spirits consumed and wasted 
With a long and tedious fever, unto whom 
Too much of a strong cordial, at once taken, 
Brings death, and not restores him. Yet I cannot 
Fix here ; but must enquire the man to whom 
I stand indebted for a benefit, 
Which to requite at full, though in this hand 
I grasp all sceptres the world's empire bows to. 



• to rcmtniber 

Tlie dark inhabitanit there, how much they wanted.] 
In tills niivst beantiliil passage, remember is u>t(l lor cause 
to renieinbtr, In whicli seii.se it hcqtieiitly occurs In our old 
writers. So Bfaumoiit and Flulclier: 
" f'roc. Do joii remember 
Her to come after you, that she may behold 
Her <laiii;liler's charity." — The Sea yoyaye. 
t Cleo. / restore 

Thh IJss, so help ine yoodness! which I borrow'd, 
Jf'heit I last saw you] Tills is a modest and a pretty 
Imitation ot SliaU.-(jeaie : 

" Now, hy Ihe jealous queen of heaven, that kiss 
I carried iroin Ihee, dear; and my Iriie lii> 
Hath viriiin'd it e'ei' since." — Coriolanus. 



Would leave me a poor bankrupt. Name liiii. lady; 

If of a mean estate, Til gladly part with 

My utmo>t fortunes to him ; but if noble. 

In thankful duty study how to serve him ; 

Or if of higher rank, erect him altars. 

And as a god adore him. 

Clea. If that goodness. 
And noble temperance, the queen of virtues, 
Bridling rebellious passions, to v.-hose sway 
Such as have conquer d nali:)ns have lived slaves. 
Did ever wing great minds to fly to heaven. 
He that preserved mine honour, muy liojie boldly 
To fill a seat among the gods, and shake oft" 
Our frail corru])tioii. 

Least. Forward. 

Cleo. Or if ever 
The powers above dirt mask in human shapes 
To teacli mortality, not bv cold precepts 
Forgot as soon as told, but bv examples. 
To imitate their jiuieness, and drav/ near 
'Jo their celestial natures, I believe 
He's more than man. 

Least. You do describe a wonder. 

Cleo. Which will increase, when you shall under- 
He was a lover. [stand 

Least. Not yours, lady 1 

Cleo. Yes;' 
Loved me, Leostlienes ; nay move, so doted, 
(If e'er affections scorning gross desires 
May without wrong be styled so,) that he durst not 
With an immodest syllable or look. 
In fear it migiit take from me, whom he made 
The object of his better part, discover 
I was the saint he sued to. 

Least. A rare temjier* ! 

Clea. I cannot speak it to the worth : all praise 
I can bestow upon it will appear 
Envious detraction. Not to raik you i'lirther, 
■^'et make the miracle full, though, of all men, 
He hated you, Leosthenes, as his rival ; 
So high yet he prized mv content, th.it, knowing 
You were a man I favour'd, he disdain'd not. 
Against himself, to serve you. 

Least. Vou conceal still 
'J'lie owner of these excellencies. 

Cleo. 'lis Marullo, 
I\Iy father's bondman. 

Least. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Cleo. Why do you laugh? [praisf 

Least. To hear the labouring mountain of you; 
Deliver'd of a mouse. 

Cleo. J'he man deserves not 
This scorn I can assure you. 

Least. Do you call 
What was his duty, merit? 

Cleo. Yes, and place it 
As high in my esteem, as all the honours 
Descended from your ancestors, or the slory, 
Whicli you may call your own, got in tliis action, 
In which, I must confess, you huve done nobly ; 
And I could add, as I desired, but that 
I fear 'twould make you proud. 

Least. Why, lady, can you 
Be won to give allowance, that your slave 
Should dare to love you ? 

Cleo. 'J'he immortal Kods , 



* A rare temper !] The old copies read tempter : correcieU 
by Mr. M. Masoo. 



112 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Aci- IV 



Accept the meanest altars*, that are raised 

By pure devotions ; and sometimes prefer 

An ounce of frankincense, lionev or mill-:, 

'^."fore wliole Iiecatombs, or Saba-an gums, 

Olf }r'd in ostentation. — Are you sick 

Of your old disease? I'll fit you. [Aside. 

Least. Vou seem moved. 

Cleo. Zealous, I grant, in the defence of virtue. 
Why, good Leosthenes, though I endured 
A penance for vour sake, above example ; 
I hai\'e not so far sold my'self, I take it. 
To be at vour devotion, but I may 
Cherish desert in others, where I find it. 
How would you tyrannize, if you stood possess'd of 
That which is only yours in expectation. 
That now prescribe such liard conditions to me ? 

Least. One kiss, and I am silenced. 

Cleo. I vouchsafe it ; 
Yet, 1 must tell you 'tis a favour that 
Marullo. when 1 was his, not mine own. 
Durst not presume to ask : no : when the city 
Bow'd humbly to licentious rapes and lust. 
And when 1 was, of men and gods forsaken, 
Deliver'd to his power, he did not press me 
To grace him with one look or syllable, 
Or urged the dispensation of an oatli 
Made for your satisfaction : — the ])Oor wretch, 
Having related only his own sufferings,' 
And kiss'd my hand, which 1 could not deny him, 
Defending me from others, never since 
Solicited my favours. 

Least. Pray you, end ; 
The story does not please me. 

Cleo. Well, take heed 
Of doubts and fears ; — for know, Leosthenes, 
A greater injury cannot be offer'd 
To innocent chastity, than unjust suspicion, 
I love Marullo's fair mind, not his person; 
Let that secure vou. And 1 here command you, 
If I have any power in you, to stand 
Between him and all punishTiT.,,, and oppose 

His temperance to his folly; if you fail 

No more; I will not threaten. [Lxit. 

Least. What a bridge 
Of glass I walk upon, over a river 
Of certain ruin, mine own weighty fears 
Cracking what should support me ! and those lielps. 
Which confidence lends to others, are i'rom me 
Ravish'd by doubts, and wilful jealousy. \Eiit. 

SCENE IV .-^Another Eoom in the Same. 
Enter TiMACORAs, Ci.f.on, Asotus, Corisca, and 

0l\ MPIA. 

Clean. But are you sure we are safe? 

• Cleo. The immortal t;ods 

Accept the meanest altars, &c.] Millon's invocation on 
the opening of Pniitdise Lost, is ni)t unlike this. 

" And chiefly ihou, () .«pji-it," i!k.c — CuxETER. 
I cannot disciiver mnch likeiwss in llie two quotations; 
the author had Horare in liisi Ihoni^hts : 
Jmmunis aram si tcti(jit inamts, 
Nan svmptvosa lilandior hostia 
AloTirit arersns penate.i 
Farre pio, saliente mica. 
A beaulifnl piipsas;e, wliich the critics, with Dacierand Sana- 
don at tluir head, srianaely niainl^dn to be ironical. I 
believe ihAt Horace was perlVclly sincere. The lessons of 
piety are .so consonant to human leelins;s that very fre- 
quently Ihose who do not experience llieir tnlj influence 
thi Miselven, earnestly and honestly labour to impress Ihem 
upo'i others 



Timag. You need not fear ; 
Tlipy are all under guard, their fangs pared off: 
The wounds their insolence gave you, to be cured 
With tlie balnv of vour revenge. 

Asot. And shall I be 
The thing 1 was born, my lord ? 

Timag. The same wise thing. [never 

'Slight, what a beasi they have made thee ! Afric 
Produced the like. 

Asot. I think so : — nor the land [walnuts, 

Where ajies and monkevs grow, like crabs and 
On the same tree. Not all the catalogue 
Of conjurers or wise women bound together 
Could have so soon tran.sform'd me, as my rascal 
Did with l)is whip ; for not in outside only. 
But in my own belief, I thought myself 
As ])prfect a baboon 

Timag. An ass thou wert ever. [heart 

Asot. And would have given one leg, with all my 
For good security to have been a man 
After three lives, or one and twenty yearsi. 
Though I had died on crutches. 

Clean. Never varlets 
So triuniph'd o'er an old fat man : I vi-as famish 'd. 

Timag. Indeed you are fallen away. 

Asot. Three years of feeding 
On cullises and jelly, though his cooks 
Lard all lie eats w ith marrow, or his doctors 
Pour in his mouth restoratives as he sleeps, 
Will not recover him. 

Timag. But your lady.shiji looks 
Sad on the matter, as if you hud niiss'd 
Your ten-crown amber possets, good to smooth 
The cutis, as you call it, and prejiare you, 
Active and high, for an afternoon's encounter 
With a rough gamester, on your couch. Fie on't! 
You are grown thrifty, smell like other women; 
The college of phv^^icians have not sat. 
As they were used, in council, how to fill 
The crannies in your cheeks, or raise a rampire 
With munimy, ceruses, or infants' lat. 
To keep ofi age and time. 

Cflris. Pray yoti, forbear; 
I am an alter'd woman. 

Timag. So it se< ms ; 
A ))art of your honour's ruff stands ont of rank too 

Coris. iSo matter, I iiave other thoughts. 

Timag. O .s'tran^e ! 
Not ten days since it would have vex'd you more 
Than the loss of your good name : ])ity, this cure 
I'or your jircud ilch came no sooner! IMarry 
Seems to bear uji still. [Olympil 

Oliimp. 1 complain not, sir ; 
I have borr.e my fortune patiently. 

Timag. '1 hou wert evt r 
An excellent bearer ; so is all \otir tribe, 
If you may choose your carriage. 

Enter LfiosrniMS and Dn'nn,iis uiih a Guard. 

How now, friend; 
Looks our Cleora lovely ? 

least. In my thouehts, sir, 

Timag. hut why this guard? 

Diph. It is Timoleon's jileasure ; 
The slaves have been examin'd, iiid confess 
Their riot took beginning ir«ini your house; 
And the first mover of them to rebil'ion 
Your slave IMarullo. [E.ievut Diph. und OimrtL 

Least. Ha! ] more than tear. 

Timag. Tliev may search boldly. 



SCENF I.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



113 



Enter Timandra, speaking to the Guard within. 

Timand. You are unmanner'd grooms 
To prv into mv lady's private lodgings; 
There's no MaruUos there. 

Re-enter Diphilus, and Guard with Pjsander. 

Timag. Now I suspect too : 
Where lound von him? 

Diph. Close hid in your sister's chamber. 

Timag. Is that the villain's sanctuary ! 

Least. 'I'his confirms 
All she deliver'd, false. 

Timag. But that I scorn 
To rust my good sword* in thy slavish blood, 
Tliou now vvert dead. 

Pisan. He's more a slave than fortune 
Or misery can make me, that insults 
Upon unweapon'd innocence. 

Timag. Prate you, dog ! 

Pisan. Curs snap at lions in the toil, whose looks 
Frighted them, being free. 

Timag. As a wild beast. 



Drive him before you. 

Pisan. O divine Cleora! 

Least. I 'ar'st thou presume to name her? 

Pisan. Yes, and love her ; 
And may say, have deserved her. 

1 imag. Stop his mouth. 
Load him with irons too. 

[^Exit Guard with Pisander, 

Clean. I am deadly sick 
To look on him. 

Asi't. If he get loose, I know it, 
I c-ijier like an ape again : I feel 
The whip already. 

Timnnd. This goes to my lady. [Exit. 

Timag. Come, cheer you, sir ; we'll urge his pun- 
ishment 
To the full satisfaction of your anger. 

Least. He is not worth my thoughts. No corner 
left 
In all the spacious rooms of my vex'd heart. 
But is fill'd with Cleora, and the rape 
She has done upon her honour, with my wrong, 
The heavy burdien of my sorrow's song. [^Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — The same. A Room in Archidamus's 

House. 

Enter Arciiidamus and Cleoua. 

Archid. Thuu art thine own disposer. Were his 
honours 
And glories centupled, as I must confess, 
Leosthenes is most worthy, yet 1 will not, 
However I may counsel, force affection. 

Cleo. It needs not, sir ; I prize him to his worth, 
Nay, love him truly ; yet would not live slavtd 
To his jealous humours : since, by the hopes of 

heaven. 
As I am free from violence, in a thought 
I am not guilty. 

Archid. 'Tis believ'd, Cleora ; for't ! 

And much the rather, our great gods be praised 
In that I find, beyond my hopes, no sign 
Of riot in my house, but all things order'd, 
As if 1 had been present. 

Cleo. Riay that move you 
To pity poor MaruUo ? 

Archid. ' lis my purpose 
To do him all the good 1 can, Cleora ; 
But this offence being against the state, 
Must have a public trial. In the mean time. 
Be careful of yourself, and stand engaged 
No further to Leosthenes, than you may 
Come off with honour ; for, being once his wife, 
You are no moie your own, nor mine, but must 
Resolve to serve, and suffer his commands. 
And not dispute them : — ere it be too late. 
Consider it duly. 1 must to the senate. [£aif. 

Cleo. 1 am much distracted : in Leosthenes 
I can find nothing justly to accuse, 

• 'I'd rust my aoud sword, &c.l Good, whicli conipl»'tcs 
the metre, is only fimiid in the first quarto: tlie luocleni 
editors lo.low ilie second, wjiich abounds in similar oiuis- 
tium, almost btyond crtdibiliiy. 



But his excess of love, which I have studied 
To cure with more than common means ; yet still 
It grows upon him. And, if 1 may call 
INly sufferings merit*, 1 stand bound to think on 
IMaruUo's dangers; though 1 save his life. 
His love is unrewarded : — I confess, 
Both have deserved me, yet of force must be 
Unjust to one ; such is my destiny. 
Enter Timandra, 
How now ! whence flow these tears ? 

Timand. I have met, madam. 
An object of such cruelty, as would force 
A savage to compassion. 

Cleo. Speak, what is it ? 

Timand. iNlen pity beasts of rapine, if o'ermatch'd. 
Though baited for their pleasure ; but these mons- 
Upon a man that can make no resistance, [ters, 

Are senseless in their tyranny. Let it be granted, 
MaruUo is a slave, he's still a man ; 
A capital offender, yet in justice 
Not to be tortured, till the judge pronounce 
His punishment. 

Cleo. Where is he? 

Timand. Dragg'd to prison [spit on 

With more than' barbarous violence; spurn'd and 
By the insulting officers, his hands 
Pinion'd behind his back ; loaden with fetters : 
Yet, with a saint-like patience, he still off'ers 
His face to their rude buffets. 

Cleo. O my grieved soul I 
By whose command 1 

* My suferings merit.'] So it stood in every edition pic- 
vioiis to ll'ial (It Mr. M. Mason, who reads, his stifferingi 
mi-rit. It is evident tliat he mislooli tlie sense oi liie pas- 
sage. Tliree. lines below, he reads, after Coxeter, indeed, 
pet of force I must /<>.— the pronoun, whien destr;.ys both 
the nieasiiie and tlie rlijnie, is not in the ohi copies : b"l 
these are nut the only errors in this shoit speecn, which 
disgrace the modern editions. 



lU 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Act V 



Timund. It seems, my lord your brother's. 
For he's a looker-on : and it takes from 
Honoiir'd Leostlienes, to suffer it, 
For his respect to vou, whose name in vain 
The grieved wretch loudly calls on. 

Clfo. By Diana, 
'Tis base in both ; and to their teeth I'll tell them 
That I am wrong'd in't. [Going fiirlh. 

Tiniaml. \\ hat will you do ? 

Cleo. In person 
Visit and comfort him. 

TimiHtd. '1 hat will bring; fuel 
To the jealdus fires which burn too hot already 
In lor.l Leostlienes. 

Cien. Let them consume him ! 
I am mistress of myself. Where cruelty reigns, 
'J here dwells nor love, nor lionour. [Exit. 

Timund. So ! it works. 
Thou'^ii liitherto I have run a desperate cuurse 
To serve my brother's purposes : now 'tis fit 

Enter Leosthenes mid Timagoras. 

I studv mine own ends. They come : assist me 
In these my undertakings, Love's great patron, 
As mv intents are honest! 

Leml. 'Tis my fault* : 
Distrust of others springs, Timagoras, 
From (liffideni e in ourselves : but I will strive. 
With the assurance of my worth and merits, 
To kill this monster, jealousy. 

Tim 'g. 'Lis a guest. 
In wisdom, never to be entertain'd 
On trivial probabilities ; but, wlun 
He does ap[;ear in pregnant proofs, not fasbion'd 
By idle doubts and fears, to he leceived: 
Tiiey mike their own horns that are too secure. 
As ufll as such as give ihein growth and being 
From mere imagination. I^liough 1 prize 
Cieora's hon^mr equal with mine own, 
And know what h.rge additions of jiower 
'I'his match brings to our family, 1 prefer 
Our friendship, and your peace of mind, so far 
Ahove mv own respects, or l-.ers, that if 
She hoUl ni)t her true value in the test, 
'Tis far from my ambition, i'or her cure 
That you should wound yourself. 

Tinutad. This argues i'or me. 



• Tjiost. 'Tis my fault : 

D'slrutf of others spritti/s, Timai/nras, 

From dijfidence in ourselcei :] \\\y fault, i.e. my inis- 
foriiinr. Jli.it the word iiiicieiill> li.iil tiiis lueaning, 1 could 
prove by nniiy cxmiiplts ; one, liowevtr, will bu Ihou^lil 
niHioifiiily (IccUive : 

" Bawd. You arc lit into my hands, wlicre yon are like 
to lite. 

Marina. Tlie more my fault. 
To 'scape his hands, where 1 was like to die." 

Pericles, Act. IV. sc. iii. 
This too will ascertain, beyond a doubt, the meaning of 
Shallow, which Sleevens evidently mistook, and Mr.lMa- 
lone delivered with some degree of hesit.ilion : 

" Slen. How does your tallow greyhound, sir 1 I heard 
»ay, he was out-run on Cotsale. 

Page- It could not be judg'd, sir. 

Mrn. 'You'll not confe!.s, you'll not confess. 

Shal. Ihat he will not ;— 'lis yom/au/f, 'tis \m\t fault ■— 
Tis a good dog." 

Poor Slender is one of Job's comforters, as they .say • he 
persists in reminding Page, who evideully dislikes the sub- 
ject, of his defeat : hence the good-ii.itiiied consolation of 

Shallow: " He needs not confe>s it, cousin; you were un- 

lortiinile, sir; your loss must be attributed to accident tor 
your dog is a good dog." ' 



Timag. Why she should he so passionate for a 
bondman, 
Falls not in compass of my understanding, 
But for some nearer interest: or he raise 
This mu'iny, if he loved her, as, you say. 
She does confess he did, but to enjov, 
By fair or foul play, what he ventured for, 
To me's a riddle. 

Least. Prav yu, no more; already 
I have answer'd that objection, in my strong 
Assurance of her virtue. 

Tilling, 'lis unfit then, 
'I'hat I should press it further. 

Timaiid. Now 1 must 
.Make in, or all is lost. [Rushes forward distractedly 

Timag. What would Timandra? 

Li'oit. I low wild she looks! How is it with thy 

Timug. Collect thyself, and speak. [lady! 

Timaiid. As you are noble, 
Have pity, or love piety*. — Oh I 

/ east. Take breath. 

Timug. Out with it boldy. 

Timand. O, the best of ladies, 
I fear, is gone for ever. 

/ eoU. V\ ho, Cleora? 

Timag. Djeliver, how ? 'Sdeath, be a man, sir !^ 
Speak. 

Timand. Take it then in as many sighs as words, 
Mv lady 

'Tima'g. What of her? 

Timand. No sooner heard 
MaruUo waS imprison'd, but she fell 
Into a deaaly swoon. 

Timug. But she recover'd 
Say so, or he will sink too ; hold, sir; fio ! 
This is uiimatilv. 

Timand. Brought again to life. 
But with mucli luhour, she awhile stood silent, 
Yet in that mtei-im vented sighs, as if 
'J'liey labour'tl, fi-om the prison of her flesh, 
To aive her grieved soul freedom. On the sudden 
'Lransported on the wings of rage and sorrow, 
She flew out of the house, and, unattended, 
Enter'd the common prison. 

Leost. 'J'his confirms 
What but bet'ore 1 fear'd. 

Timand. 'J here you may find ber; 
And, if you love her as a sister 

Ttmng. Damn her ! 

Timand. Or you respect her safety as a lover. 
Procure Marullo's liberty. 

Timug. Impudence 
Beyond exjjression ! 

Least. Shall 1 be a bawd 
To her lust, ami my dishonour? 

Timai.d. She'll run mad, else. 
Or do some violent act upon herself: 
My lord, her father, sensible of her sufferings. 
Labours (o gain his freedom. 

Leost. O, the devil ! 
Has she bewitch'd him too? 

Timag. Til hear no more. 
Come, sir, we'll follow her ; and if no persuasion 
Can make her take again her natural form. 
Which by lust's powerful spell she has cast off, 
This sword shall disenchant her. 

• Have pity, or love piety. — ] So the old copies : the 
modern editors, here, as almost everywhere else, corrupt 
this last word, and feebly read, have pit}/, or love pity. 



Scene II.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



115 



Lensi. my heart-strings ! 

^Exeunt Leosthenes and Timiigoms. 
Timand. I knew 'twould take. Pardon me, fair 
Cleora, 
Though 1 appear a traitress ; which thou wilt do, 
In pity of mv woes, when I make known 
My lawful claim, and only seek mine own. [Exit. 



SCENE II. — A Prison. Pisander discovered in 

chains. 

Enter Cleora and Gaoler. 

Cleo. There's for your privacy. Stay, unbind his 
Gaol. 1 dare not, madam. [hands. 

Cleo. I will buy thy danger : 
Take more gold : — do not trouble me with thanks, 
I do suppose it done. [E.tif Gaoler. 

Pisan. ]\Iv better angel 
Assumes this shape to comfort me, and wisely ; 
Since, from the choice of all' celestial figures, 
He could not take a visible form so full 
Of glorious sweetness. [Kneels. 

Cleo. Rise. I am flesh and blood, 
And do partake thy tortures. 

Pisan, Can it be. 
That charity should persuade you to descend 
So far from your own height, as to vouchsafe 
To look upon my sufi'erings? How I bless 
My fetters now, and stand engaged to fortune 
For my captivity — no, my freedom, rather! 
For who dare think that plate a prison, which 
You sanctify with your presence? or believe. 
Sorrow has power to use her sting on him, 
That is in your compassion arm'd, and made 
Impregnable, though tyranny raise at once 
All engines to assault him ? 

Cieo. flndeed virtue, 
With which you have made evident proofs that you 
Are strongly fortified, cannot fall, though shaken 
With the shock of fierce temptations : but slill 
In spite of opposition. For myself, [triumphs 

I may endeavour to confirm your goodness, 
(A sure retreat, which never will deceive you,) 
And with unfeigned tears express my sorrow 
For what I cannot help. 

Pisan. Do you weep for me ! 
O, save that precious balm for nobler* uses: 
I am unworthy of the smallest drop. 
Which, in your prodigality of pitv, 
You throw away on me. Ten of these pearls 
Were a large ransom to redeem a kingdom [geance. 
From a consuming plague, or stop heaven's ven- 
Call'd down by crying sins, though, at that instant, 
Jn dreadful flashes falling on the roofs 
Of bold blasphemers. I am justly punish 'd 
For my intent of violence to such pureness ; 
And all the torments flesh is sensible of, 
A soft and gentle penance. 

Cleo. V\ hii h is ended 
In this your free confession. 

Enter Leosthekes and Timagoras behind. 
Least. What an object 
Have I encountered ! 



• O save that precious balm fir nobler usm .] JVobl. 
•he iLniiiig ot iliu l'ii>t quirt.i, ;iii;l is evul ' 
t'i>v<lii dud Mr. M. M,.so. 
atbU. 



Timag. I am blasted too : 
Yet hear a little iurtlier. 

Pisan. Could I exjiire now, [thus^ 

The>e white and innocent hands closing my eyes 
Twere not to die, liut in a heavenly dream 
'i'o be trans])orted, without the help of Charon, 
'J'o the l^lysian shades. You make me boldj 
And, but to wish such happiness, I fear, 
Slay give oflence. 

Cleo. No; for believe it, Marul'o, 
You've won so much upon me, that I know not 
That happiness in my gift, but vou may challenge. 

Least. Are you yet satisfied? 

Cleo. N or can you wish 
But what my vows will second, though it were 
Your freedom first, and then in me full power 
To make a second tender of myself. 
And you receive the present. By this kiss, 
From me a virgin bounty*, 1 wi.l practise 
All arts fur your deliverance : and that purchased, 
In what concerns your further aims, I speak it. 

Do not despair, but hope 

[Timagcrtis and Leosthenes come j'm-ward, 

Timag. To have the hangman, 
When he is married to the cross, in scorn 
To say, Gods give you joy 1 

least. But look on me, 
And be not too indulgent to your folly ; 
And then, but that grief stops my speech, imagine 
What language 1 should use. 

Cleo. Against thyself. 
Thv malice cannot reach me. 

Timag. How ? 

Cleo. No, brother, 
Though you join in the dialogue to accuse me: 
What I have done, I'll justify; and these favours 
W hich, you presume, will taint me in my honour, 
'I'hough jealousy use all her eyes to spy out 
One stain in my behaviour, or envy. 
As many tongues to wound it, shall appear 
My best perfections. For, to the world, 
1 can in my defence allege such reasons, 
As my accusers shall stand dumb to hear them; 
When in his fetters this man's worth and virtues. 
But truly told, shall shame your boasted glories, 
Which fortune claims a share in. 

Timag. The base villain 
Shall never live to hear it. [Draws his sword, 

Cleo, Murder ! help I 
Through me you shall pass to him. 

Enter Archidamus, Diphilus, and Officers. 

Archid. What's the matter? 
On whom is your sword drawn? Are you a judge' 
Or else ambitious of the hangman's office, 
Before it be design'd you ? You are bold, too ; 
Unhand my daughter. 

Least. She's my valour's prize. [urg 

Archid. With her consent, not otherwise. Youmaj 
Your title in the court ; if it prove good. 
Possess her freely. Guard him safely oflf too. 

Timiig. You'll hear me, sir? 

Archid. If you have aught to say. 
Deliver it in ])ublic ; all shall find 
A just judge of Timoleon. 



!tr IS 

Illy ngl.l. 

t'oiluw llie secuiul, wliicU lias 



• — - J>y this kias. 

From me a viii;m bounty,] Meaning, 1 presume, t» 
Pi>dml».i ; lor ^ll•■ li.ul given oi.e to Lcosllienen before. 



116 



THE BONDMAN. 



[Act V 



Di]ih You must 
Of force now use your patience. 

[ Exeiuit all but Timagorus and Leosthene\ 

Timtig. Veno'eauce rather! 
Whirlwinds of rage possess me : you are wrong'd 
Beyond a stoic sufterance; yet you stand 
As you were rooted. 

Leos . 1 (eel someiliino- here, 
That boldlv tells me, all the love and service 
I pay Cleora is another's due, 
And therefore cannot prosper. 

Timag. Melancholy; 
Which now you must not 3'ield to. 

Least. ' i"is apparent : 
In fact your sister's innocent, however 
Chano-ed bv her violent will. 

Timiig. If you believe so, 
Follow the chase still ; and in open court 
Plead your own interest: we shall find the judge 
Our friend. I fear not. 

Leost. Sometliing I shall say, 
But what 

Timag. Collect yourself as we walk thither. 

[ Exeunt, 



SCENE Ul.—The Court of Justice. 
Enter TiMOLEON, Archidamos, Cleoua, aud Officers. 

Timol. 'Tis wonderous strange ! nor can it fall 
The reach of my belief, a slave should be [within 
Tlie owner of a temperance which tliis age 
Can hardly parallel in freeborn lords, 
">r tmn-s proud of their purple. 

Archid. 'Tis most true ; 
And, though at first it did af)pear a fable. 
All circumstances meet to give it credit ; 
Which works so on me, that I am comjiell'd 
To be a suitor, not to be denied, 
!Ie may have equal hearing. 

Cleo. Sir. you graced me 
With the title of your mistress* ; but my fortune 
Is so far distant from command, that I 
Lay by the power you gave me, and plead humbly 
For the preserver of my fame and honour. 
And pray you, sir, in charity believe. 
That since I had ability of s])eech, 
My tongue has been so much inured to truth, 
1 know not how to lie. 

Timol. I'll rather doubt 
The oracles of the gods, than question what 
Your innocence delivers ; and, as far 
As justice and mine honour can give way-, 
He shall have favour. Bring him in unbound: 

[^Exeunt Officers. 
And though Leosthenes may challenge from me. 
For his late worthy service, credit to 
All things he can allege in his own cause, 
Marullo, so, I think, you call his name. 
Shall find I do reserve one ear for him. 



• C!eo. :S'ir you yraKed me 

With the title of your mistrea;] This alludes to the re- 
quest in the liist act, iliHt he iiiiyht be permitted to wear 
her colours. In those dnjs f <;.ill,,ntiv, I mean those of 
M,issini;er, not certainly, those of Tiiiioh"on,to wear a lady's 
colours, thai is, a scarf, „,• a riband, lakeii from hfr per^n 
was to become her authorised champion and servant. ' 



Enter Cleon, Asotus, Divhilus, Olympia, and 

COUISCA. 

To let in mercy. Sit, and take your places ; 
The light of this fair virgin first determined, 
Your bondmen sliail be censured*. 

Cleon. With all rigour. 
We do expect. 

Coris. Temper'd, I say, with mercy. 

Enter at one door, Leosthenes and Timagohas; at 
the other, OfKeers with PisANDERa/(d I'imandha. 

Timol. Your hand, Leosthenes : I cannot doubt 
You, that have been victorious in the w;ir. 
Should, in a combat fought witli words, come off 
But with assured triumph. 

Leost. iMv deserts, sir, 
If, without arrogance, I may style them such, 
Arm me from doubt and fear. 

Timol. 'lis nobly spoken. 
Nor be thou daunted (howsoe'er thy fortune 
Has mark'd thee out a slave) to speak thy merits: 
For virtue, though in rags, may challenge more 
Than, vice, set off with all the trim of greatness. 

Pism. I had rather fall under so just a judge, 
Than be acfjuitted by a man corrupt 
And partial in his censure. 

Archid. Note his language; 
It relishes of better breeding than 
His present state dares promise. 

Timol. I observe it. 
Place the fair ladv in the midst, that both, 
Looking with covetous eyes upon the prize 
They are to plead for, may, from the fair object, 
Teach Hermes eloquence. 

Leost. Am ! fallen so low ? 
My birth, my honour, and what's dearest to me. 
My love, and witness of my love, my service. 
So undervalued, that 1 must conteTid * 

Witii one, where my excess of glory must 
IMake his o'erthrow a conquest? Sliall my fulness 
Supply defects in such a thing, that never 
Knew any thing but want and emptiness. 
Give him a name, and keep it such, from this 
Une(|ual competition t If my pride, 
Or any bold assurance of my worth, 
Has pluck'd this mountain of disgrace upon me, 
I am justly punish 'd, and submit ; but if 
I have been modest, and esteem'd myself 
More injured in the tribute of the praise. 
Which no 'desert of mine, prized by self-love, 
Ever exacted, may this cause and minute 
For ever be fogotten. 1 dwell long 
Upon mine anger, and now turn to you. 
Ungrateful fair one; and, since you are such, 
'Tis lawful for me to proclaim myself. 
And what I have deserved. 
Cleo. Neglect and scorn 
From me, for this ])roud vaunt. 

Leost. You nourish, lady, 
Your own dishonour in this harsh reply. 
And almost ])rove what some hold of your sex , 
You are all made up of passion : for, if reason 
Or judgment could find entertainment with you. 



* Your bondmen shall be censured] i. e. jnili;ed. To 
prevent the necessity of recurring to this word, alioiii whiili 
more than sultiiient has been written, it may be proper to 
observe, ihtt our ancestors used cpftswrf precisely a» we now 
do jiidgineiiT : sometimes for a quality of the mind, and 
sometimes for a judicial detenniaatiuu. 



Scene III.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



J«T 



Or that you would distinn;uish of the objects 

You look on, in a true glass, not seduced 

By the false lioht of your too violent will, 

I should not need to jdead for that which you 

With joy should offer. Is my high birth a blemish ? 

Or does my wealth, which all the vain exj)ense 

Of women cannot waste, breed loathing in you? 

The honours I can call mine own, thought scandals? 

Am I deform'd, or, for my father's sins. 

Mulcted by nature? If you interpret these 

As crimes, 'tis fit I should yield up myself 

Most miserably guilty. But, perhaps, 

(Which yet I would not credit,) you have seen 

Tliis gallant pitch the bar, or bear a burthen 

Would crack the slumlders of a weaker bondman ; 

Or any other boisterous exercise. 

Assuring a strong buck to satisfy 

Your loose desires, insatiate as the grave 

Cleo. You are foul-mouth'd. 

Archill. Ill-nianner'd too. 

Least. I speak 
In the way of supposition, and entreat you, 
With all the fervour of a constant lover, 
That vou would free yourself from these aspersions, 
<1r any imputation black-tongued slander 
Could throw on your unspotted virgin whiteness; 
To whicli there is no easier way, than by 
A'ouclisafing him your favour, — liim, to whom. 
Next to the general, and the gods and fautors*, 
riie country owes her safety. 

T:iii(i/j. Are you stupid? 
'Slight, leap into his arms, and there ask pardon — 
Oh ! you expect .your slave's reply ; no doubt 
We shall have a tine oration : I will teach 
My s])aniel to howl in sweeter language, 
And keep a better method. 

Arch i' I. You forget 
The dignify of tlu». place. 

L)i[)h. Silence! 

Timol. \ToFhitnder^ Speak boldly. 

Pisiin. 'Tis your authority gives me a tongue, 
I should be dumb else ; and I am secure, 
1 cannot clothe my thoughts, and just defence, 
In such un abject phrase, but 'twill appear 
Equal, if not above my low condition. 
I need no bombast language, stolen from such 
As make nobility from prodigious terms 
The hearers understand not ; I bring with me 
No wealtli to boast of; neither can I number 
Uncertain fortune's favours with my merits; 
I dare not force affection, or presume 
To censure her discretion, that looks on me 
Asa weak man, and not her fancy's idol. 
How I have loved, and how much I have sufTer'd, 
And with what pleasure undergone the burthen 
Of my ambitious hopes, (in aiming at 
The glad possession of a happiness. 
The abstract of all goodness in mankind 
Can at no part deserve,) with my confession 
Of mine own wants, is all that can plead for me. 
But if that pure desires, no', blended with 



* Next to the genera!, and the gods and fantors,] So read 
both tile quartos: llic niotkrii rditors not knowing what to 
msiVe of the gods and fautors, i,v:\\\<:\\, in the language of 
the autlior, nitaris the J'ovouring gods), accommodate the 
line to iheir own conceptions with wondrous lacilily, and 
lead: 

Next to the general, and to the god*. 
Alas 1 tor Af assingcr. 

11 



Foul thoughts, that, like a river, keeps his course^ 

Retaining still the clearness of the spring 
Fiom whence it took beginning, may be thought 
Worthy acceptance ; then I dare rise up. 
And tell this ^;ay man to his teeth, 1 never 
Durst doubt her constancy, that, like a rock, 
Beats off tem])tations, as that mocks the tuiy 
t)f the proud %vaves ; nor, from niy jealous fears. 
Question that goodness to which, as an altar 
Of all perfection, he that truly loved 
Should r.ilher bring a sacrifice of service. 
Than raze it with the engines of susjiicion : 
Of which, when he can wash an .iltliiop w hite, 
Leosthenes may hope to free himselt ; 
But, till tiien, never. 

Timag. 15oM, presumptuous villain ! 

Pisiin. I will tio further, and make good ujionhim 
r the [iride (fall his honours, birth, and fortunes, 
He's n^'.re unworthy than myself. 

Leo't. Thou liest. [dfcided. 

Tilling. Confute him with a whip, and, the doubt 
Punish him with a halter. 

Pi-rn. O the gods ! ' 

My ribs, though iiraile of brass, c^not contain 
My heart, swollen higwith rage. The lie! — a whip! 
Let fury then disjierse these clouds, in \\ hich 
I long have march'd disguised'; [7"//ri)irs off his 
itisgiiise.'l that, when they know [horror 

Whom they have injured, they may faint with 
Of my revenge, which, wretched men, expect, 
As sure as fate, to sufi'er. 

y.e.'S*. 11a ! Pisander! 

TniMg. "Tis the bold Theban ! 

A'iot. There's no hope for me then : 
I fhoti|:>ht 1 should have put in for a .share. 
And borne Cleora from them both ; bur now 
This stan;.>;er looks so terrible, that 1 date not 
So much as look on her. 

Pi.san. Now as myself. 
Thy equal .at thy best, Leo.stheRes. 
For you, Timagoras, praise heaven you were born 
Cleora's brother, 'tis your safest armour. 
I5ut I lose time, — I he base lie cast upon me, 
I thus return : Thou art a perjured man. 
False, and perfidious, ami hast made a tender 
Of love and service to this lady, when 
Thy soul, if thou hast any, can bear witness. 
That thou wert not thine own : for proof of this, 
Look better on this virgin, and consider. 
This Persi;!!! shape laid by ^, and she •.jjpparing 
In a Gieeki.sh dress, such as when first you saw her 
If she lesembie not Pisander's sister, 
One call'd Statilia? 

Leost. ''lis the same my guilt 
So chokes my spirits, i cannot deny 
My falsuhood, nor excuse it. 

Pisaii. 1 iiis is she. 
To whom thou wert contracted • this the lady, 
'i'hat, when thou wert my prisoner, fairly taken 

• Let fury then disperse these clouds in wliinh 
7 Imig lave march'd disguised;] 'J lie old copies res 
mnsh'd; but lliis stems jo unworihy ol the aullior, that 
h.ive not scrupled to place the other word (mardi'd) in thv 
text. I believe Masfin^tr had the fust jEneid in hit 
thoHijhts. 

i This Persian shape laid by,] i. e. Ihi.s Persi in dress ; 
a term borrowed from the tirint; room ot ilie lliealres. In 
the list of dramatis persoi a; pretixed to the Virgin ^fitrtyr, 
Harpax is said to be, " ai. evil spirit fcUswjng TlsffbililS 
in the thape (h»''it) of a s( -elary '' 



118 



THE BONDMAN. 



[At r V 



In the Spartan war, thnt begg'd thy liberty, 
And with it gave herself to thee, ungrateful ! 

Statu. No more, sir, I entreat you : I perceive 
True -sorrow in iiis looks, and a consent 
To make me reparation in mine Lonour; 
And then I am most happy. 

Pis:iii. The wrong; done he* 
Drew me from Thebes, with a full intent to kill thee; 
But this fair object met me in my fury, 
And quite disarm'd me. Being denied to have her, 
Bv you, my lord Archidamus, and not able 
To live far from her ; love, the mistress of 
All quaint devices, prompted me to treat 
Witii a friend of mine, who, as a pirate, sold me 
For a slave to you, my lord, and gave my sister 
As a present to Cleora. 

Timol. Strange meanders ! 

Pisin. I'here how I bare myself, needs no relation ; 
But, if so fiir descending from the height 
Of my then flourishing fortunes, to the lowest 
Condition of a man, to have means only 
To feed my eye with the sight of what I honour'd ; 
The dangers too I underwent, the sufferings; 
The clearness of my interest ; may deserve 
A noble recompense in your lawful favour ; 
Now 'tis apparent that Leosthenes 
Can claim no interest in you, you may please 
To think upon my service. 

Cleo. Sir, my want 
Of power to satisfy so great a debt. 
Makes me accuse my fortune : but if that 
Out of the bounty of your mind, you think 
A free surrender of myself full payment, 
1 gladly tender it. 

Archid. With my consent too, 
All injuries forgotten. 

Timttg. I will study. 
In my future servicfe, to deserve your favour, 
And good opinion. 

Least. I bus I gladly fee 
This advocate to plead for me. [Kissing Statilia. 

Fisaii. You will find me 
An easy judge. When 1 have yielded reasons 
Of your bondmen's tailing off from their obedience, 
Then after, as you please, determine of me. 
I found their natures apt to mutiny 
From your too cruel usage, and made trial 
How far they might be wrought on ; to instruct you 
To look with more prevention and care 
■J"<) what they may hereafter undertake 
Upon tiie like occasions. The hurt's little 
They have committed, nor was ever cure 
But with some pain effected. I confess, 
in hope to force a grant of fair Cleora, 
I urgtd them to defend the town against you : 
Nor had the terror of your whips, but that. 
1 was preparing for defence elsewhere. 
So soon got entrance* : in this I am guilty ; 
Now, us you please, your censure. 

Timnl. Bring them in ; 
And, though you've given me power, I do entreat 
Such as have undergone their insolence, 
It may not be offensive though 1 study 



• Nor had the terror of your whips, but that 

I mat yri-piiring for defence elsewhere, 

So toon yot enlra'nce :} I am pli'^tseit witli this because it 
look- as It tilt aiitlKir was sensible of tlir improbability of 
the ciriuiiislaiice. It is, indeed, llie only detective part of 
(his beaulitiil story. 



Pity, more than revenge. 

Cm-is. 'Twill best become you. 

Cleon. I must consent. 

Asot. For me, I'll find a time 
To be revenged hereafter. 

Enter GnAccui.o, Cimbrio, Poliprhon, Zanthu« 
and the rest, with halters about their necks. 

Grac. Give me leave ; 
I'll speak for all. 

Timol. What canst thou say, to hinder 
The course of justice? 

Grac. Nothing. — You may see 
We are prepared for hanging, and confess 
We have deserved it : our most humble suit is. 
We may not twice be executed. 

Timol. Twice ! 
How mean'st thou '! 

Gruc. At the gallows first, and after in a ballad 
Sung to some villanous tune. There are ten-groat 

rhymers 
About the to\vn, grown fat on these occasions. 
Let but a chapel fall, or a street be fired*, 
A foolish lover hang himself for pure love. 
Or any such like accident, and, before [made. 

They are cold in their graves, some d.imn'd ditty's 
Which makes their ghosts walk. — Let the state take 
F'or ihe redress of this abuse, recording [order 

'Twas done by my advice, and, for my part, 
I'll cut as clean a caper from the ladder, 
As ever meriy Greek did. 

Timol. Yet I think 
You would shew more activity to delight 
Your master for a )tar(loii. 

Grac. O ! I would dance 
As I were all air and fire. [Capers. 

Timol. And ever be 
Obedient and humble ; 

Gnic. As his s]mniel. 
Though he kick'd me for exercise ; and the like 
I promise for all the rest. 

* [jet but a iliajiel t'all,-or a slicct be lired, &c.] Tliere 
is much good hiinionr, as well as irntli, in these remarks. 
They are, it most be confessed, strangely ont of lime, and 
still more strangely out of place ; but the readers of our old 
draoiaiists r.wist be prepared to overlook these anomalies. 

Much of the wit, and mole, perhaps, ol the inteiest, of 
our old dramas, is irretrievably lost through our ignorance 
of collateral circumstances. A thousand temp' rary allu- 
sions are reoeiveil with indifference, or perhaps escape ut 
altogether, which excited the strongest sensatioi.s of pleasHie 
and pain in the bosoms of our ancestors. This pi ly was 
performed fur the lir.st lime, December .1, 1623; and on the 
24th of October, in the same year, a chapel, or, as Iliecon- 
tinuaior of Stow calls it, a chamber fell down " in Huns- 
den House, in Ihe Black Fryars, where was assembled abovi' 
three hundred men, women, and youths, to lieai a Roinane 
Cathoticque priest preach, in which fall was slaiiie the 
preacher, and almost one hundred of his auditory, and well 
nigh as many more hurl." Immediately after this, followg 
anaiticle of firing a street. "Wednesday, the I2lli of No- 
vember, ir>2H, one of the warehouses of Sir W. Cockayne," 
{a name familiar to Massinger,) "knight, alderman of Lon- 
don, in Broad Street, took Jire in the evening, and ceased 
not till two o'the clock the next morning, in which space 
it burnt his whole house, and three of his neighbonr's houses, 
to the gri'.it dangir and damage of many neeie inh.ibitaiits," 
SiC— Annates, p. lUli, ed. I6:)l. 

These appo-ite relerences, for which I am indebted to 
Mr. Gilelirist, prove, 1 think, that the tragical evenis in 
Gracculo's speccli were not the suggestions of fancy. The 
foolUh lover, w|io hung himself /or pure /pee, was, perhaps, 
beneath Ihe notice of the Clironider; but I suspect that, 

if we coulil have reciuiise to the d d ditties of llie day, 

we should ftn-i his melancholy story to be no less real lliM 
the olhei nn.ortunate occurrences 



Scene III.] 



THE BONDMAN. 



l\9 



Timol. Rise then, you have it. 
All the Slaves. Timoleon ! Timoleon ! 
Timol. Cease these clamour*. 
And now, the war being ended to our wishes, 



• M;is>itigcr never ^rrjte» vvith more effect, than when he 
-oiiibiiiis Ins own f.incy with somewhat of ital history. In 
this c.ise, the reader will not exject llial the history should 
proceed in a regular order, or wi.hout the adnii.-sion ol' fo- 
reign incidents, or that it shoidd maintain to the end, the 
coniin indini* interest with \>hich it begins. It is enougii 
for Massinger, if he' can geciire attention at the outset, 
thr.'ii!;!! the remembrance of some important event, and 
it, under cover of this, he can prepare the part which ima- 
gin.ition is to supply. It is on these principles lie lias 
pioceeded in The lioadman, and pn duced a piev'e wliiclj, 
with a few exceptions, is at once stately and playful, im- 
pressive and tender. He nialures the luve, nndir cover of 
the history ; till at lengih the inierest cb.inges, and the his- 
tory becomes subordinate to the love. 

The characters are drawn with much variety and interest; 
the modest gravity and self command of Timoleon well 
agree wilh the ancient desciiptions of the man, from whose 
mouth nihil unqiiam imotens, neque yloriosum euiit; and 
our admiration of the heroic Pis;inder, who < aiinot appear 
in his proper character till towards the conclusion, is skil- 
fully excited by early notios, apparently incidental, of Ins 
gnat powers of body, his language, sentiments, &c., far 
above his supposed condition. His >igiial temperance, the 
charm which wins the pure CIcora, is well contrasted with 
the unreasonable distrust and jealousy of Leostlunes, who, 
however, observes, wilh much sclr coinplacencv, while he 
mars his own happiness by his imp. ilience, th.it wmin n ha\e 
bill Utile judgment, and are musdy made up of passion! It 
may be remarked here, that M.i-siii^er seems fonil of punish- 
ing his men for undue suspicions and al.irms in niaiti.rs of 
love; and ihat this is one of the metho.ls he takes to exalt 
the chiiracler ol his fem.ilcs, and to exhibit, as in Cleora, 
the compleie ascendency of c astity over jealousy. Oilier 
m rks of his accustomed man igement ap>.ear in this plaj . 
,H is fond of fulfilling express, oiis in a st nse not intendeil 
by the speakers. Tiinai;ora3 unconsciously s lys, that Pi- 
eander was " bonglit for his sister's service;" and Archi- 
da i.as tirls him treat her with paniciilar " care and reve- 
rence," the very circumstance which gains her atieclions. 
In The Duke of Milan loo, Slorza and Maicelia wish lliat, 
after a lite of unvaried happ ness, " one grave may receive 
them ;" and lluy are buried logetlier, alter she li.is f.dlin 
by his baud. He is fund of reserving some injured person, 



Arid such as went the pilsriraage of love, 
Happy in full fruition of tiieir liope, 
1 is lawful, thanks paid to tho jiowers divine, 
lo drown our cares in honest minh and wine. 



[^Eieunt* 



whose late appearance may Justify what has been done, and 
hasten the conclusion x>{ the ph.t. He reserves jMa'ilia 
lor the sake of vindicating I'isaiider, and reminds us of Ku- 
gcnia, whose wrong* explain the vengeance ol l''iaiici-co. 
He is also fond of thiowing his lovers into dilhcuities, by 
confessing their attachment, while tlmse who are iiiiererteJ 
in opposing it, listen from beliind. Cleora precipitates her 
expies>ions of kindness for I'isander, tli.it iier family may 
be enraged at the discovery. Ami a simil.ir contrivance will 
by and by strike the reader, in the plot of 'The Heneyado, 
where Donusa and Vitelli arc overheard by Asambeg and 
Mustapha. 

The ludicrous characters are not without their merit, 
always excipiing the licentiousness which stains them ; licen- 
tiousness, however, which, lorlunately, is iieillier spiiiitd 
nor allractive. The slaves turned masters, " frti their hour" 
in their new dignity with be--oming insolence. It is a line 
stroke of nature which Plautns has given to one of his 
slaves: suddenly growing rich, and Ia3ing the plan of liig 
future enjoyments, he determines t*> have slaves of his 
own : 

domum intlruam, ajjrum, ades, mancipia. 

• Budens, Act. IV. ne. ii. 
If Massingrr is to be suspected of p<il.tical a lusions, this 
play betrays Mm. The character of tJisco ihe ad., iral due* 
not suit him, but agrees very well wilh the Duke »>( Buck- 
ingham : 

" a raw young fellow. 

One never trdn'd in arms, bnt rather fashion'd 
To lilt with ladies' lips, than crack a lance," &c. 
The " green heads that determine of the slate ov^r their 
cups," HiC, were now in posse-sion of all power, and playing 
their wiliest schemes. And towards the en' ol ll-e reigu 
of James, (ihe date of tl is p!ay,) it might well be eahl, ly 
Ihe friends to Ihe safety of llieir country ; 

" in this plenty 

And fat of peace, your young men ne'er were 'ain'd 

In martial discipline ; and your ships unrigg (( 

Rot ill the harbour " 

One of those frJ.-nds of his country was Massing! 
is hardly possible to point out, in any writer. 



modern, a liner .strain of patriotism amidst the J 
ger, than that which animates the last scene of r 
Ur. Ireland. 



: and it 
cieiit tHT 
•'ic ilao 
(rst ne 



THE EENEGADO. 



The Runeoado.] This tragi-comedv, for so Massinger terms it, appears from the office-book of tbtf 
master of the revels, to have been first ,iroduced on the stage, Aj)ril 17th, 1624 : it was not given *.o tha 
public till several years after, — the entry in the stationers' register bearing date jNIarch 6uJ, 1629-30. 

The story, though wild and extravagant, is not all, ])eri)aps, invention ; tlie pirates of I'uiiis and Af.^iers 
ravaged the northern coasts of the ^Mediterranean at pleasure; and the Sj)anish and Italian ■vvnrers of 
those days are full of adventures similar to this btlore us ; some of which were undoubtedly founded in 
fact. 

The language and ideas of this play are strictly catholic ; notwithstanding which, it seems to have been 
a favourite with the public ; and even the modest author speaks of its merits with some degree of compla* 
cency. It was not, however, reprinted. 

It is said, in the title-page, to have been "often acted by the queen's majesties servants, at the private 
play-house in Drury Lane." After the death of Queen Anne, in 1618, (as Mr. IVIalone informs me,) the 
players £t this house were called, the Lndu Elizahelh's servants, (i. e. James's dauglitei, then married to the 
Palsgrave,) although she was not in England : but ;ifter the marriage of Charles, they took the name of the 
queen's servants; i. e. of Henrietta Maria. 'J'he denomination, therefore, in the title-page of the ol<l jilay, 
klludes to the time of its publication, and not to that of its " allowance ;'' when, as appears from the first 
edition of The Bondman, 1624, the players were still 'in possession of the former appellation. 



TO THE RIGHT HONOUnABLE 

GEORGE HARDING, 

BARON BERKELEY, OF BERKELEY CASTLE, AND KNIGHT OF THE 
HONOURABLE ORDER OF THE BATH*. 

My Good Lord, 

To be honoured for old nobility, or hereditary titles, is not alone proper to yourself, but to some few of your 
rank, who may challenge the like privilege with you : but in our age to vouchsafe (as you have often done) 
n ready hand to raise the dejected spirits of the contemned sons of 'the muses ; such as would not suffer the 
glorious fire of poesy to be wholly extinguished, is so remarkable and peculiar to your lordship, that with a 
full vote and suffrage, it is acknowledged that the ])atronage and protection of the dramatic poem is yours, 
and almost without a rival. I despair not therefore, but that my ambition to present my service in this' kind, 
may m your clemency meet with a gentle interpretation. Confirm it, my good lord, in your gracious accept- 
ance of this trifle ; in which, if I were not confident there are some pieces wortliy the perusal, it should 
have been taught an humbler flight ; and the writer, your countryman, never yet made happy in your notice 
and favour, had not made this an advocate to plead for his admission among such as are wholly and sincerely 
devoted to your service. 1 may live to tender my humble thankfulness in some higher strain ; and till then, 
comfort myself with hope, that you descend from your height to receive 

Your honour's commanded servant, 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



• He was made a knight of the balh at the creation of Charles, Prince of Wales, November 4, :?16; tbree years after 
be succeeded his grandtalhcr, Henry, eleventh Lord Berkeley. > < } 



Scene I.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



121 



AsAMKEG*, viceroi] of Tunis, 
MusiAi'iiA, hdiha n/' Aleppo, 
ViiELLi, It' Veueiidii j^eiitleman, 

disiriitgeil lis a merchant, 
Francisco, a Jesuit, 
Antonio Giiimaldi, the Rene- 

gado, 
Cakazie, iin tnjtuch, 
Gazev, servant to Vitelli, 
Aga. 



Actors' NameM. 
John Blunye. 
John Sumner. 

Mich. Bowyer. 
Wni. Reiarnalds. 



AVm. Allen. 
Win. Ilobins. 
Ed. Shakerley. 



Aetort' Namet. 



Capiaga. 

Janizaries. 

Master. 

Boatswain. 

Sailors. 

A Gaoler. 



Turks. 



DoNusA, niece to Amurath, 
Paulina, siiter to Vitelli, 
Manvo, servant to Donusa. 

SCENE, Tunis. 



Ed. Rogers. 
Theo. Bourn* 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— A Street near th4>. Bazar. 
Enter Vitelli, and Gazet. 

Vitel. You have hired a shop, then ? 

Giiz. Yes, sir ; and our wares, 
Thougli bntile as a maidenhead at sixteen. 
Are sale unladen ; not a crystal crack'd, 
Or china dish needs soldering ; our choice pictures. 
As tlipy came from the workman, without blemish : 
And 1 iiave studied speeches for each piece. 
And, in a tlirifty tone, to sell them oft', 
Will swear by ftlaiiomet and Termagantf, 
That this is mistress to the great Duke of Florence, 
Tiiat, niece to old King Pe]iin, and a third, 
An Austrian princess by her Homan nose, 
HoweVr my conscience tells me they are figures 
Of bawds and common courtezans iu \'enice. 

Viiel. You make no scruple of an oath, then? 

Giiz. Fie, sir! 
'Tis out of my indentures ; I am bound there 
To swear for my master's proHt, as securely 
As your intelligencer t must for his prince, 



* Or, as we slioiiM now say, Hassan Bey. 

t M ill swear by Mahomet and Tennaijiint.] Dr. Percy, 
in lii< loiiMiks oil the ancirnt ball. id 1 1 Kiiiy Estmere, 
fays, lliat 'reriiiagaiit is (lie name li'iven liy llie aiuliors of 
the old romances lo the god oi the Saiaceiir : and a- he was 
generally repio^enled as a veiy fnrions bein:;, the «oi(l 
termagant was applied to any person of a inibident out- 
rageous disposiiion, though at pl•e^el.l it is appiopii.ited to 
the leniale sex. M. Mason. 

I have retained a part of this note, thongh there is little 
in it. Our zealous ancestors, wlio wire somewhat of Sir 
Andrew's way of thinking, and coidi.illy (li»|io ed to beat 
the Tuiks like dogs, fi>r being Maluvnu'ilans, innoci-ntly 
charged them with deiiies whom Ihi'y never acknowledged. 
Termagant, whether derived from the Saxon, or (which, in 
this case, is nearly the sime). IVoiu the Latin, cannot pos- 
sibly be a Saracenic divinity ; the word was . ri inally u-ed, 
I suppose, as an atlrihiue of the Siipreinv Being of II e 
Saxons, a people little less oilions lo iiir nniiance writers, 
than the Saracens, and soineiinits conloHn<led wiili Iheni. 

J / am hound there 

To xivenr for my waster a pro/it, as securely 

As pnw intelliyenrer. &c ] Heie is, pr-bibly, .n allusion 
to the celebiateil dehniiion of an amha-salor, by Sir Henry 
Wutt.in : " All hone>t m 111 app"intfcd to ///e ahioad f<n- the 
food of his country," — a dtliiiiii>in, by the h>e, which co>t 
him dear; for Sir Henry, nut s .tistied with ^rnlertaining his 



That sends him forth an honourable spy, 

To serve his purposes. And if it be lawful 

In a Christian shopkeeper to cheat his father, 

I cannot find but to abuse a Turk 

In the sale of our commodities, must be thought 

A n\eriforious work. 

Vitel. I wonder, sirrah, 
\\ hat's vour religion? 

Gaz. Troth, to answer truly, 
I would not be of one that should command mo 
To feed upon poor John*, wlieni see pheasants 
And partridges on the table : nor do 1 lite 
The other, that allows us to eat flesh 
In Lent, though it be rotten, rather than be 
Thought superstitious ; as your zealous cobler. 
And learned botcher preach at Amsterdam, 
Over a hotchpotchf. I would uot be confined 
Jn my belief: wlien all your sects and sectaries 
Are grown of one opinion, if 1 like it 
I will profess myself, — in the mean time, 
l-ive I in England, Spain, F" ranee, Rome, Geneva, 
I'm of that country's faith. 

Vitel. And what in Tunis? 
Will you turn Turk here? 



countrymen, would needs translate his wit into Latin, fcM 
the ainii'enient of foreigners. Lye, which was then tho 
term lor lod>;e or dwell, made a tolerable piin ; but meiitiejy 
dum, into which it was inrned, had neither luinuMir nor 
anibigui'y in it, and sorely scandalized the corps diplo 
iiiatic. 

* To feed upon poor John,] Poor John, Mr. Malone says, 
is ha' e,"<liiid, and sdled. 

t as ynur ::ealous cobler 

And Irarned liotchir prenc.h at Amsterdam, 

Over a hotchpotch ] The religious lionbles of Holland, ia 
the I6ih century, aio-e principally from the Anabaptist*. 
There was an insurrection at Ainsterdam, headed by a lailor, 
a di-ciple of John of l.eydeii dhe IMiinster king), himself 
a t.iilur: but, indeed, the toleration allowed to religions 
seels of all ilenominalions. had, about this time, filled Am 
sierilam wiih fanatics lioin every country in Euro|.e. To 
this aiigregalion of zealots, there are perpeiiial :^llii>ions ID 
our .11 wrileis. Thus Sliiilev : "Well, if I live. I will to 
Amsterdam, and ad I another sc ism to the two hundred 
four -(lie, and odd." Gentleman of I enlce And Beao 
niout and Fl. teller: " 1 am a >ch(io'liMaster, sir, and would 
tain coMlei uilh jou aboiil eierlim; f. iir n.w siels of leli 
gh.n at Amslerdain." 'The Fair Maid of the Inn. 



It2 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Act 



G'lz. No : so I should lose 
A coUo)) of tbnt part, my Doll enjoin'd me 
To briiijr l)ome as sl)e left it: 'tis her venture, 
Is'ordare 1 b-irtcT tliut commodity, ' 
Without her sj>ecial warrant. 

VitpL You are a knave, sir : 
Leaving vour roguery, think upon my business, 
It is no time to fool now. [time 

Remember wliere you are too : though this mart- 
We are allow'd free trading;, and witli safety. 
Temper vour tongue, and meddle not with tlie Turks, 
Tlieir manners, nor religion. 

Gaz. Take you heed, sir, 1 there landed 

What colours vou wear. Not two hours since. 
An English jiirate's v.hore, with a green apron*, 
.And, as she walk'd the streets, one of tlieir muftis. 
We call them priests at Venice, with a razor 
Cuts it off, jietticoat, smock and all, and leaves lier 
As naked as my nail ; the young fry wondering 
What strange' beast it s'houhl be. 1 scaped a 

scouring 

Mv mistress's busk point, of tliat forbidden colour, 
Then tied my codjjiece; had it been discover'd 
I had been capon'd. 

ViteL And had been well served. 
Haste to ihe shop, and set my wares in order, 
I will no? long be. absent. 

Cm. Thoi.gli I strive, sir. 
To i)ut off melancholv, to which you are ever 
Too much inclined, it shall not hnider me. 
With my best care, to serve you. [Eait. 

Enter Francisco. 

Vitel. I believe thee, 
O welcome, sir! stay of my steps in this life, 
And guide to all my blessed hopes hereafter, [per'd? 
Wi)at comforts, sir? Have your endeavours pros- 
Have we tired fortune's malice with our sufferi ngs? 
Is she at length, after so many frowns, 
Pleased to vouchsafe one cheerful look upon us? 

Fran. Vou give too much to fortune and your 
passions. 
O'er which a wise man, if religious, triumphs. 
That name fools worship ; and those tyrants, which 
We arm against our better part, our reason, 
May add, but never take from our afflictions. 

Viml. Sir, as I am a sinful man, I cannot 
But like one suffer. 

Finn. I exact not from you 
A fortimde insensible of calamity, [shownf 

To which the saints themselves have bow'd, and 
They are made of flesh and blood; all that I chal- 
lenge 
Is maniy pa*ienie. Will you, that were train'd up 
In a religious school, where divine maxims. 
Scorning comparison with moral precepts, 
\\ ere daily taught you, bear your constancy's trial, 
Not like Vitelli, but a village nurse. 
With curses in your mouth, tears in your eyes ?— 
How poorly it shows in you. 

VvcL I am school'd, sir, 
And will hereafter, to my utmost strength, 
Study to be myself. 

* wiM a green apron.] It should be observed, 

that this cdliinr is appropria'id scilely to the descciidrtiils 
Of MrfhoiiKt. To " laiiii at Tunis," or any other lowii 
professiiij; Ihe Malionietan ielit;ion, in a green dress, at 
this d,i) , wonM perhaps cost tlie unwary stranger his life. 

— and sliown,] So the old copy : the modern edi- 
tor: icad, Olid (how. 



Fr<(n. So shall you find me 
Most ready to assist you; neither have I 
Sle])t in your great occasions : since I left you, 
1 have been at the viceroy's court, and press'd 
As far as they allow a Christian entrance: 
And something 1 have leurn'd, that may concern 
'ihe purpose of this journey. 

Vncl. Dear sir, what is it? 

Fran. i>v the command of Asamheg, the viceroy 
The city swells with barbarous pomj) and pride. 
For the entertainment of stoirt INlustapha, 
The baslia of Aleppo, who in person 
Comes to receive the niece of Amurath, 
The fair Donusa, for his bride. 

Vitel. 1 find not 
How this may profit us. 

Fran. Pray you give me leave. 
Among the rest that wait upon the viceroy, 
Su(h as have, under him, command in i'unis, 
Who, as you've oi'ten lieard, are all false pirates, 
I saw the shame oi' Venice, and the scorn 
Of all good men, the peijured Renegado, 
Antonio Grimaldi. 

Vitel. H-i ! his name 
Is poison to me. 

Fran. Yet again? 

Vitel. I have done, sir. 

Fran. 'J his debauch'd villain, whom we eret 
thought 
(After his impious scorn done in St. Mark's, 
To me, as I stood at the holy altar) 
The thief that ravish'd your fair sister from you. 
The virtuous Paulina, not long since, 
As I am truly given to understand, 
Sold to the viceroy a fair Christian \irgin ; 
On whom, maugre his fierce and cruel nature, 
Asambeg dotes extremely. 

Vitel. 'lis my sister: 
It must be she, my better angel tells me 
'I'is poor Paulina. Farewell all disguises! 
I'll show, in my revenge, that I am noble. 

Fran. \ou are not mad? 

ViteL No, sir; mv virtuous anger 
i\Iakes every vein an artery ; I feel in me 
The strength of twenty men ; and, being arm'd 
With my good cause, to wreak* wrong'd innocence, 
I dare alone run to tlie viceroy's court, 
And with this poniard, before his face. 
Dig out Grimaldi's heart. 

Fran. Is this religious? 

Vitel. Would you have me tame now? Can I 
know my sister 
Mew'd up in his seraglio, and in danger 
Not alone to lose her honour, but her soul ; 
The hell-bred villain by too, that has sold both 
To black destruction, and not haste to send him 
To the devil, his tutor! To be patient now, 
Were, in another name, to play the pander 
To the viceroy's loose embraces, and cry aim t ! 
While he, by force or flattery, compels her 
'J'o yield her fair name up to his foul lust, 
And, after, turn apostata to the faith 
That she was bred in. 

Fran. Do but give me hearing, 

• to wreak wrong'd innocrnce,] i. e. to rf*CMge; 

ao in The Fatal Duwry. 

" But there's a heaven above, from wliose jusc wreak 
No mists of policy can hide ottenders." 
f . and cry aim 1] See the Bojidmaru 



SCBVE II.J 



THE HEN EG ADO. 



133 



And you shall soon grant how ridiculous 

This childish furv is. A wise man never 

Aitempts iiii]>ossibilities ; 'tis as easy 

For any single arm to quell an army, 

As to effect your wishes. We come hither 

To learn Paulina's fate*, and to redeem her: 

Leave your revenge to heaven : I oft have told you, 

Of a relict that I gave her, which has power, 

If we may credit lioly men's traditions, 

To kee]> the owner free from violence : 

This on her breast she wears, and does preserve 

The virtue of it, by her daily prayers. 

So, if she fall not by her own consent, 

wiiicli it were sin to think, 1 fear no force. 

Be. therefore, jiatient ; keep this borrow'd shape. 

Till time and opportunity present us 

With some fit means to see her ; which perform'd 

I'll join with von in any desperate course 

For iier delivery. 

Vitel. Vou liave eharm'd me, sir, 
And 1 obey in all tilings : pray you, pardon 
'I lie weakness of my passion. 

Fran. And excuse it. 
Be cheerful man ; for know that good intents 
Are, in the end, crowii'd with as fair events. 

\Eieunt. 



SCENE II.— .4 Uoomin Donusa's Palace. 
Enter Donusa, Manto, and Carazie. 

Don. Have vou seen tlie Christian captive, 
The great badia is so eiiainoiir'd of? 

Miiiit. ^ es, an it ]»lease your excellency, 
I took a full view of her, when she was 
Presented to iiiin. 

Don. And is she such a wonder. 
As Mis rejiorted ! 

Munt. SJie was drown'd in tears then, 
Which took nuK-li from her beauty ; yet, in spite 
Of sorrow, she a])pear'd the mistress of 
Most rare perfections . and. though low of stature. 
Her well-i)roj)ortion'd limbs invite affection : 
And, wlun she speaks, each syllable is music 
Tliat does enchant the liearers : but your highnesst. 
That are not to be parallell'd, I yet never 
Beheld her equal. 

Don. Come, you flatter me ; 
But 1 forgive it. We, that are born great. 
Seldom distaste^ our servants tliough they give us 
More than we can pretend to. I have heard 
That Christian ladies live with much more freedom 



• To learn Patdina'* faCe.J The old copy reads faith ; 
the allfr.iliuii, which sfeiiis judicious, was made by Sir. M. 
Mhsoii. 

+ / oft have told you 

Of (I relic that I fiove her, &i;.J I have aheady observed, 
that tlie liugiiHge ot' iliis play is catholic; the idea, how- 
ever, of llie power of relics, in the preservation of cha?tily, 
may be found in ni.iny old romances and books of knight- 
errantry, which were nniUinbtedly familiar I<> Alas-injier. 

J but your hitjhnrsn,] i. e. ejncept your h'ghness, 

&c. In the next line, I he nnidern editors had so trans- 
posed ihe words, as to make it <lowMright pro»e: it is now 
reformed. 

$ We, that are bom yreat. 

Seldom distaste oxir servants tkouyh they yive us 

More than we can pieteud to \ i. e. dislike; in which 
•ense iIjc wi.id trn|iiei.lly occurs. Thus Shirley, in the 
epilo'iUc to Love in a Maze: 

" he de.-ire.^ that yon 

Should not distaste his muse, because of late 
TraiiS|.ldnted," &c. 



Than such as are born here. Onr jealous Turks 
Never permit their fair wives to be seen, 
Ijiit at the public bagnios, or the mosques, 
And, even then, veil'd and guarded. Tliou, (^arazie, 
Wert born in England ; wliat's the custom ihere, 
Among your women ? Come, be fiee and merry: ^ 
1 am no severe mistress : nor hast thou met with 
A heavy bondage. 

Cur. Heavy ! I was made lighter 
By two stone weight, at least, to be fit to serve you. 
But to your ([uestion, madam ; women in England, 
For the most part, live like (jueens. Vour country 
Have liberty to hawk, to hunt, to feast, [ladies, 

To give free entertainment to all comers. 
To talk, to kiss ; there's no such thing k-.own there 
As an Italian girdle. Vour city dame. 
Without leave, wears tiie breeches, has her husband 
At as much'command as lier 'prentice ; and, if need 
Can make him cuckold by her father's copy. [be, 

Don. But your court lady ? 

Cur. She, I assure you, madam. 
Knows nothing but her will ; must be allow'd 
Her footmen, her caroch*, her ushers, ]iages, 
Her doctor, chaplains ; and, as I have iieard, 
They're grown of late so learn'd, that they maintaiK 
A strange position, which their lords, with all 
Their wit, cannot confute. 

Don. What's that, I prithee? 

Car. ftlarry, that it is not only fit, but lawful. 
Your madam there, her much rest and high feeding 
Duly consider'd, should, to ease herhushand. 
Be allow'd a private friend : they have drawn a bill 
To this good purpose, and, the next assembly, 
Doubt not to pass it. 

Don. We enjoy no more, 
That are o' the Othoman race, though our religion 
Allows all pleasure. 1 am dull : some music. 
'I'ake my chapinesf off. So, a lusty strain. 

[A galUard. Knocking within. 
Who knocks there? 

\^Manto goes to the door, and returnu 

Mant. 'Tis the basha of Aleppo, 
Who humbly makes request he may present 
His service to you. 

Don. Reach a chair. We must 
Receive him like ourself, and not departj with 
One piece of ceremony, state, and greatness. 
That may beget respect and reverence 
In one that's born our vassal. Now admit him. 

Enter Mustapha f he puts off his yellow pantofiet, 

Rlusta. The place is sacred'; and I am to enter 
The room where she abides, with such devotion 
As pilgrims pay at Mecca, when they visit 
The tomb of our great prophet. [^Kneels. 



* Her footmen, her caroch, her vihers, pages,] If the 
reader would have a pri mi.-iiig specimen ni what can be 
done by a nice ear, in edilirii; an ancient (met, lei him cast 
an eye on this line, as it stands in Coxelei,and Mr. M. 
Mason : 

Her footmen, her coach, her ushers, heryaye$, 
tuni-ti-ti, tum-ti ti. Sic. 

♦ 'Jake my ehapines off] Chapinis (Sp.inih, and not 
Italian, as the coniimntalois on hhaki-pcaie .is-eit) are a 
kind oi <■lu!;^ wilh thick cork sole.-, which the l.idics wear 
on their shoes when ihev !;o ahioad. 

; and not (Up n ti-ith.SLc] To depart unA part 

were ancicn(l) s> nonyiniius. Tl us Jonsoii : 
" He lliai dep.iris with i is own hollc^ly 
For vulgar [.raise, doth it too dearly buy." Epig. ii. 



t4 



THE REN EG ADO. 



[ActL 



Don. Rise ; the sign 

[Caraiie takes up the pantojies. 
That we vouchsafe your presence. 

Miistii. jMiiv tl)ose powers 
That r.iised rlie Othoman empire, and still 2:uard it, 
Reward your highness for this gracious favour 
You throw Ui'On vour servant! Jt hath pleased 
The most inviiieihle, mightiest Amurath, 
('l"o sjieak his oilier titles would take from him 
'i'hat 111 hiinsfli' does Comprehend all greatness,) 
To make me the unworthy instrument 
Of his command. Receive, divinest ladv, 

[Deliuers a letter. 
This letter, sign'd bv his victorious liand, 
And made authenrit by tlie imperial seal. [you 

Tliere, when you find me mention'd, far be it trom 
To think it my ambition to presume 
At such a ha|)j)iness. which his powerfuF will, 
From his great mind's magnificence, not mv merit. 
Hath shower'd uj)on me. But, if vour consent 
Join with his good opinion and allowance. 
To perfect what his favours have begun, 
I shall, in mv obseipiiousness and dutv, 
Endeavour* to jirevent all just complaints. 
Which want of will to serve you may call on me. 

Don. His sacred majesty writes here, that your 
valour 
Against the Persian liath so won upon liim. 
That there's no grace or honour in liis gift. 
Of which he can imagine you unworthy ; 
And. what's the greatest you can ho])e, or aim at, 
It is his ) leasure vou should be received 
Into his royal family — provided, 
For so far 1 am uncontined, that I 
Affect and like vour jierson. I expect not 
The ceremony which he uses in 
Bestowing of his daughters and his nieces : 
As thai he bhouhl present you for my slave, 
To love you, if you pleased me ; or deliver 
A poniard, on my least dislike, to kill you. 
Such tyranny and pride agree not witli 
My ."iofier disposition. Let it suffice. 
For my first answer, that thus far I grace you : 

[GiuPii him her hand to kis^. 
Hereafter, some time S])ent to make enquiry 
Of the good parts and faculties of your mind, 
You shall hear further t'rom me. 

Miiitd. 1 hough all torments 
Really suffer'il, or in hell imagined 
By < uricius fiction, in one hour's delay 
Are w!iolly (onipieheuded ; I confess 
That 1 stand bound in duty, not'to clieck at 
Whateier you commantl, or please to impose. 
For trial of my patience. 

Dun. Let us find [me ; 

Som-^ other subject ; too much of one theme cloys 
Is't a full mart ! 

Mii^ta. A confluence of all nations 
Are met together : there's variety, too, 
0''all that merchants traffic for. 

Don. .1 know not — 



• / sfiall in My obsequiousness aiid duty. 

Endeavour, tuc] Tliis, and what tollm^s, are pretty cor- 
rect spec linens ot tlif inaiuu-r in wliicli the ^leat otiiciis of 
Ihc st.ilf arc still said to pay tluir ail(lreose> to the priii- 
Ce>ses of the imperial laiuily. The as;e ot Mai-siiiyer pro- 
duceil many i;oo(i histories of the Tuiks: lie tulhnvs them, 
however, by j-tarls only, lor* in none of his plays aie the 
manner, of dittercut countries to mingled and eonluuiided 
a> i» this. 



I feel a virgin's longinw to descend 
So far from my own greatness, a.s to be, 
'I'bough not a buyer, yet a looker on 
Their strange commodities. 

Muitu. if without a train. 
You dare be seen abroad, I'll dismiss mine, 
And wait upon you as a coraraon man, 
And satisfy your wishes. 

Don. I embrace it. 
I'rovide my veil ; and, at the postern gate, 
Couvey us out unseen. I troubh- vou. 

Muiia. It IS my happiness you deign to command 
me. [^Exeuni, 



SCENE III.— 7'//e Tazar. 

Gazet xn his Shop; ¥RAt<cisco and \'rvTi.i.i walking 
hy. 

Gaz. Wliat do you hvck ? Yotir choice China 
dishes, your pure Venetian crystal of all sorts, of 
all tit at and new fashions, from <he mirror of the 
madam to the private utensil of her chambermaid; 
ami curious jiictures of the rarest beauties of Europe : 
What do you lack, gentlemen ? 

Fran. J'ake heed, I say ; .howe'er it may appear 
Imiieninent, 1 must express mv love, 
INly advice, and counsel, 'i'oit are young, Yitelli*, 
And may be temjited ; and these Turkish dames, 
(Like JCnglish mastiff's, that increase their fierceness 
By being chain'd uji,) from the restraint of freedom, 
it lust once fire their blood from a fair object, 
Will rtin a course tlie fiends themselves would shake 
To enjoy their wanton ends. [at, 

Vtitl. Sir, vou mistake me: 
I am too full of woe, to entertain 
One thought of ]ileasure, though all Kurotie's queens 
Kneel'd at my feet, and cotirted me ; much less 
I'o mix with such, whose difl'erence of faith 
Must, of necessity, (or I must grant 
Myself neglectful of all you have taught me,) 
Strangle such base desires. 

Fran. I5e constant in 
That resolution ; I'll abroad again, 
And learn, as far as it is possible, 
What may concern Paulina. Some two hours 
Shall bring me back. [Erj't. 

V'ti-l. A I blessings wait upon vou ! 

Guz. Cold doings, sir ; a mart do you call this '' 
'slight ! 
A puddingwife, or a witch with a thrum cap, 
That sells ale underground to stich iis come 
I o know their fortunes in a dead vacation. 
Have ten to one more stirring. 

Vi fl. We must be patient. 

Gaz. Vour seller by retail ought to be angry. 
But when he's fingering- money. 

Enter Grimai.di, Master, Boatswain, Sailors, and 
Turks. 

Vilel. Here are company 

Defend me, mv good angel, I behold 

A basilisk ! 

Guz. What do vou lack ? what do you lack ? pure 
China dishes, clear trvstal glasses, it dumb mistress 
to iiiakeTove to .' What do you lack, gentlemen ? 

• y'ou arryoiini), Vitelli,' 1 have added the name, 

which seems to have drojjt out a( the press, to complete the 
verse. 



IIT.I 



THE RENEGADO. 



IM 



Grim. TIiv mother for a bawd ; or, iftliou liast 
A handsome one, thy sister for a wliore ; 
VVitliout tliese, do not tell me of your trash, 
Or I sliall spoil vour marker, 

Vitel. Old Grimaldi* ! ' [stand 

Grii'f '/lounils, wherefore do we put to sea, or 

The rav;in^- winds, aloft, or p upon 

The foamv waves, wiien thev rage most ; deride 

The thunder of the enemv's shot, board boldly 

A merch;nit's sliip for prize, though we behold 

The desperate gunner readv to give Hre, 

And blow the deck up ? wliere'ore shake we off 

Those sciu]nilous rags of cliarity and conscience. 

Invented only to keep churchmen warm, 

Or feed the hungry mouths of famish 'd beggars ; 

But, when we touch the shore, to wallow in 

All seiisuid pleasures? 

Must. Av, but, noble captain, 
To sjiare a little for an after-clap, 
\Wre not improvidence. 

Gtim. Hang consideration ! 
When this is spent, is not our ship the same. 
Our courage loo the same, to fetch in more ! 
The eanh, where it is fertilest, returns not 
More than three harvests, while the glorious sun 
I'osts through the zodiac, and makes uji the year : 
But the sea, which is our mother, (that embraces 
]5oth tiie rich Indies in her out-stretch'd arms,) 
Yields every day a crop, it we dare reap it. 
No, no, my mates, let tradesmen think of thrift. 
And usurers hoard up ; let our ex]iense 
Be as our coinings in are, without bounds. 
We are the Neptunes ot the ocean. 
And such as traffic shall pay sacrifice 
Of tlieir b' st lading ; I will have this canvass ■ 
Your bov wears, lined with tissue, and the cates 
You taste serv'd up in gold : — '1 hough we carouse 
The tears of orphans in our Greekisli wines. 
The sii;Iis of undone widows paying for 
'I'he music bought to cheer us, ravisli'd virgins 
To slavery sold, for coin to feed our riots, 
We will have no compunction. ♦ 

Gaz. Do 3-ou hear, sir? 
We have ])aid for our ground. 

Grim. Hum ! 

Gaz. And hum too ! 
For all your big words, get you further off. 
And hinder not the prospect of our shop. 
Or 

Grim. What will vou do? 

Gaz. Nothing, sir, — but pray 
Your worship to give me handsel. 

Glim. By the ears. 
Thus, sir, by the ears. 

Must. Hold, hold ! 

Viii'l. \nn'll still be prating [whore. 

Gitm. Gome, let's be drunk ; then each man to his 
'Sliglit, liow do you look ! you had best go find a 

corner 
To pr.iv in, and repent : do, do, and cry ; 
It will shew line in pirates. [Exit. 

Must. We must follow, 
Or he will spend our shares. 

Budtsw. I fouglit for mine. 

Masi. iSor am I so precise but 1 can drab too : 
We Will not sit out for our parts. 



• Old Crhnalcli .'] bo the qiLirlo. i suppose the li- 

ctnsi-r luru l.iiii liiy limit upon some haniiltss iiiltijtclioii : 
the ucxt luckily c;Cdpi'd iiiiii. 



Boatsic. Agreed. [Eaeuiit Muster. Buut'W., Sailort 
Gaz. The devil gnaw off Ids fingers ! It he were 
In London, among the clubs, up went his heels 
For striking of a 'prentice*. W hat do you lack? 
What do you lack, gentlemen ? 

1 Turk. ] wonder how the viceroy can endure 
The insolence of this fellow.' 

2 Turk, fie receives profit 

From the prizes lie brings in ; an<l that excuses 
Whatever he commits. Ha ! what are these ? 
Filler JNIusTAPHA, and Doms.a veiled. 

1 Turk. I hey seem of rank and i,u.iliiy ; observe 
them. 

Gaz. What do vou lack ? see what \ou please to 
buy ; 
Wares of all sorts, most honourable n adona. 

Vitel. Peace, sirrah, make no noise ; thes" are not 
To be jesti d with. [people 

Don. Is this tiie Christians' custiim. 
In the venting their commodities I 

Mitsta. Yes, best madam. 
But you may jdease to keep your wav, here's nothing 
But toy^ and tiitlcs, not worth your observing. 

Don. Yes, for variety's sake : pray you, shew us^ 
The chiefest of vour wares. [friend, 

Viiet. Your ladyship's servant ; 
And if, in worth or title, you are more, 
JNly ignorance ])!ead my pardon ! 

Di'it. He speaks well. [mirrof 

Vitel. 'J'ake down the looking-glass. Here is a 
Steel'il so exiictly, neither taking trom 
Nor flattering the object it n-turns 
To the beholder, that Narcissus might 
(And never grow enamour'd of himself) 
View his fair feature in't. 

Dun. l^oeiical too ! 

Vitel. Here Giiina dislies to serve in a banquet, 
Though the voluptuous Persian sat a guest. 
Here crystal glasses, such as Ganymeile 
Did fill with nectar to the '1 liundeier. 
When he drank to Alcides, and received him 
In the fellowship of the gods ; true to the owners f. 

* 7/' he mere 

In London, anioiii/ the clubs, up went Idn hcela, 
For striniuij of a 'preiit ce | 1 he pulue u' the city seem) 
to have bciii » n,lclit(li, cuiitliicicd ,i( llii> lime, «hen pri- 
VHle iiijiiiies weie felt H) private l■l(ll■l•^s, .mil public hrawU 
coiiipDscd b> llie iuleifiiciice oi' a khMv r.ibble livery 
house, ill je.i.-t evi ly >luip, \\as t'ullll^llell null hluil^conii, 
Willi wliicli, on the >ligblist itppertr.iiici- oi a UMy, tlu in- 
h.ibilacls ;u'iiieil llieiii.-e ve.-', iiiiil iH>lieil i.i iiWiiiiis lo the 
scene of .tclloii. Fioiii the pilulauce ot llie yoiiin; citizens, 
who then iiiixeil liilh «iiii the ye tiy, ami Hie le.il or af- 
fected Cuiiteiiipt ill which the latter piotes-ed lo h< I I them, 
fubjecis of ei.i.ieiiiii.ii were perpeliiaf y a^l^ill^ : the city 
signal for reiiiloi cement.-, was a ciy ot "eliib.s, club.?!" 
and Ihe streets wer.- iiislaiiily fiMed v. illi ained appieiilicea. 
'J'o this curious .■■jstem of pnserviiii the peace, our old 
diaiii.ili-ts li.ive in qui lit ailiisioos. I'liiis, in Deckei'i 
llomst H'/iore, where .1 iiieiii-r is stiilcU, his serv.int ex- 
cliiiiis: " 'Sfo 4, clu'is .' dulls! pieiiiices, down niili tlieiii 1 
ah jo:i ri):;iMs, -tiike a fj/j.:t'//. in Ills shop!" Ag.iin, in 
Green s 'I u t^uoque, Staines Si>s: 

" .Sirrah ! by joiir outside you seem a c'.tizen. 
Whose coxcomb 1 were .ipleMoUuh lo hir.ik,- 
IJ'it lor ihe Uw. (io, you le a pi-.iiiii'^ .l.ick 
Nor is'l joiir hopes of ciyii);4 0111 lor ciul/a, 
Can save yoii ii'oiii my chistisemeni." 
t Here criisinl glasses — —Hue lo ihe in\iiers. &c.] This, 
and Willi loll \\s, 1- a en eel aceom.i 01 '.lie iioiion once 
enliilai.ied, ivp' eliii^ ilii etleet 01 poi-oii on Venice i;l.isses ; 
a circnin-laiiie aIiicIi won'eiinily^ii.crea-e 1 llieir v. due. Il 
may be aid. d, thai the chief inaniia>ioi> lor sjla-s was at 



ilii.s lime III I 



1110 



.Ml l.ilclii i.-i iiiii'iins 



- " J ^..j- 

me, Iroin .Stow, lh.it '■ ihe liisl iiLikiiij; 01 \ enice .l.i^.ses IE 



126 



THE RENEGADO. 



rAcrll 



Corinthian plate, studded with diamonds, 
Conceiil'd oft deadly poison ; this pure metal 
So innocent is, and faithful to tlie mistress 
Or master that possesses it, that, ratlier 
Than hold one dro]) that's venomous, of itself 
It flies in pieces, and deludes the traitor. 

Don. How movitiglv could this fellow treat upon 
A worthy suhject, that finds sucli discourse 
To grace a trifle ! 

Vitei. Here's a ])icture. madam ; 
The masterpiece of iMicii-ael Angelo, 
Our great Italian workman ; here's another, 
So perfect at all jiarts, that had Pygmalion 
Seen tliis, his prayers had been made to Venus 
To hare given it life, and his carved ivory image 
By poets ne'er remember'd. 'J hey are, indeed, 
Therarest beauties of the Christian world, 
And no where to be equall'd. 

Don. You are partial 
In the cause of those you favour ; I believe 
I instantly could slvew you one, to theirs 
Not much inferior. 

Virei. Wifli your pardon, madam, 
I ara incredulous. 

Don. Can you match me this? [^-(/'s ''^c veil. 

ViteL VVliat wonder look I on ! I'll search above. 
And suddenly attend you. [Eaif. 

Don. Are you amazed ? 
I'll biing- you to yourself. [T/iiwit's down the glasses. 

Miista. I la! what's the matter I 

Gaz. J\Iy master's ware! — We are undone I — 
strange I 
A lady to turn roarer, and break glasses*! 
'Tis time to shut up shop then. 

Musta. You seem moved. 
If any language of tiiese Christian dogs 
Have call'd your anger on, in a frown shew it, 
And tliey are dead already. 



Don. The offence 
Looks not so far. The foolish paltry fellow 
Shew'd me some trifles, and demanded of me, 
for wliat I valued at so many aspers, 
A thousand ducats. I confess he moved me ; 
Yet I should wrong myself, should such a beggar 
Receive least loss from me. 

Mi'Sta. Is it no more? 

Don. No, I assure you. Bid him bring his bill 
To-morrow to the palace, and enquire 
For one Donusa; that word gives him ])nss:ige 
Through all the guard : say, there he shall n-ceive 
Full satisfaction. Now, when you j)lease. 

Musta. I wait you. [Ejeunt Mustii. (iiid Don* 

1 Turk. We must not know them. — Li t's shift 
off, and vanish. [F..\eitnt Turks. 

Gaz. The swine's-pox overtake you ! there's a curse 
For a Turk, that eats no hog's flesh. 

Jie-enter Vhelli. 

Vitel. Is she gone ? 

Gaz. Yes : you may see h«r handiwork. 

Vitel. No matter. 
Said slie ought else ? 

Gaz. That vo'^ should wait upon Iier, 
And there receive court payment ; and, to pass 
The guards, she bids you only say you come 
To one Donusa. 

Vitel. How ! Remove the wares ; 
Do it without reply. The sultan's niece ! 
I have heard, among the Turks, for any lady 
To show her face bare, argues love, or s))e.iks 
Her deadly hatred What should I fear ! my fortune 
Is sunk so low, there cannot tall upon me 
Aught worth my shunning. 1 will run the hazard : 
She may be a means to free distress'd Paulina — 
Or, if offended, at the worst, to die 
Is a full period to calamity. [Iiennt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. — A Boom in Donusa's Palace. 
Fitter Carazie and Manto. 

Car. In the name of wonder, IManto, what hath my 
Done witli herself, since yesterday ? [lady 

Mant. I know not. 
Malicious men report we are all guided 
In our affections by a wandering planet ; 
But such a sudden change in such a person, 
May stand for an example, to confirm 
Their false assertion. 



England, be-.;aii at the Ciotclifd Fiyars, in London, about 
llif bcjiiiiiii;; III ;liu iMii;i,e of Qiiic-n Elizabeth, bj one 
Jacob Vcii.iliuf, .111 It^li.iii." JlieM-, I suspeci, were not, 
lilte the i;eiiiiiif miL'*, true in the otcners. '1 here is an allu- 
•ion ill tills ^peerh m ,i lu.iiiiiiiil (J,l^^d!;e in Juvenal- 

" nuDa aconita bibuntur 

Hcti! bus ; t'cir i lit titiir, cum pncula Humes 
CpimiKiUi, ft lain Si'tiinim tndehit in auro " Sat. X. 
• A liiilii Id 'iiiii 1(1.111 r, and l.realt y/asneit!] A roarer 
was 111.- r.iii tiriii toi «l,.u _u e iiov\ i.-.i.l ,i blusltrer, or 
biiU.v. Thus (Jazi t, in lUe tUinI act, says to Griinaldi, in 
his itate ot retoiiii,iniin, 

A'fiitJ, jfMt d« w>t ro.^r, «fr. 



Car. She's now pettish,, froward ; 
Music, discourse, observance, tedious to her. 

Mant. She slept not the last night ; and yet pre- 
vented 
The rising sunt, in being up before him : 
Call'd for a costly bath, tlien will'd the rooms 
Should be perfumed ; ransack'd her cab'nets 
For her choice and richest jewels^, and appears 
now 



• {Exeunt Musta. and Don.] Nothing can exceed the 
negligence with which the exits and entrances arc- marked 
by Mr. M. Mason : in tliis plare lie gives a speei li to the 
Turks, after sen liii;; them ott die stMsje! 

+ Mant. .VAc slept not the last nii/l't ; and yet pnvented 

The risiny sun,\ .M assurer explains hiiiifeU: but ihe 
expression is from the Psalms; " iMInc eyts prevent the 
ninlil vvaichcs." 

J For her cliolce and richrst jeuels.] Tliis is niixhrnized 
by Coxtler and Mr. M. Mason, into ckuicrst, riclii st }v\ye\s: 
altli(.u'.;li the fie(iniiit reiurreiiie oi llie expns-i..ii might 
have taught tinin caution on the subject ; it is found agai* 
in this very play : 

" Adorned in her choice and richest jewel-." 

j^iil. V. »c. iii. 



Scene III.] 



THE RENKGADO. 



Like Cvntliia in full glory, waited on 

By tlie fairest of the stars. 

Car. Can you £:uess tlie reason, 
Why the aiia of the janizaries, and he 
That guards the entrance of the inmost port, 
'A'ere call'd before her? 

Mant. They are both lier creatures, 
And by her erace preferred : but I am ignorant 
To what purpose they were sent for. 

Enter Donusa. 

Car. Here she comes. 
Full of sad thoughts : we must stand further off. 
What a frown was that ! 

Mant. Forbear. 

Car. I jiity her. [self? 

Don. What magic bath transform'd me from my- 
VVliere is my virgin pride ? how have 1 lost 
My boasted freedom ? what new fire burns up 
My scorched entrails? what unknown desires 
Invade, and take ]iossession of my soul, 
All virtuous objects vanish 'd ? I, that have stood* 
The shock of fierce temptations, stopp'd mine ears 
Against all syren notes lust ever sunsj. 
To draw my baik of chastity (that with wonder 
Hath kept a constant and an honour'd course) 
Into the i;ul|)li of a deserved ill-lame, 
Now fall unjiitied ; and, in a moment. 
With mine own hands, dig up a grave to bury 
The monumental heap of all my years, 
Employ'd in noble actions. O, my fate ! 
— But there is no resisting. ] obey thee, 
Imperious god of love, and willingly 
Put mine own fetters on, to grace thy triumph : 
'Twere, therefore, more than ciuelty in thee, 
To use me like a tvrant. What poor means 
Must I make use of now ; and flatter such. 
To whom, till 1 betrav'd my liberty, 
One gracious look of mine would have erected 
An altar to mv service ! How. now, Manto ! — 
My ever caiei'ul woman ; and, Carazie, 
Thou hast been faithful too. 

Car. 1 dare not call 
My life mine own, since it is yours, but gladly 
Will part with it, whene'er ycu shall command me; 
And think 1 fall a martyr, so my death 
May give life to your pleasures. 
■ Mdiit. I5ut vouchsafe 
To let me understand what you desire 
Should he etft'cttd; I will undertake it, 
And curse ti:yself for cowardice, if I jiaused 
To ask a reason why. 

Don. I am comforted 
In the fender of your service, but shall be 
Contirm'd in my full joys, in the pcTiormance, 
Yet, trust me, I will not imjiose upon you 
But what you stand engaged for to a mistress, 
Such as 1 have been to you. All 1 ask. 
Is faith and secrecy. 

Cur. Say but you doubt me. 
And, to secure you, I'll cut out my tongue ; 
I am libb'd in the breech already. 

Maikt. Do not hinder 
Yourself, by these delays. 



• J Ihst Jiave stood, &c.] This (inc sp,-cch, asit halh been 
liithirlo given ill nW llie tdiiioiis, is abM)ln(c nonsense. I 
have VfntniKl to relonii llie pointing altogellitr, anil to 
insert that bi lore have, which is llie greatest liberty 1 have 
vet tal?'o with the old copy. 



Don. Thus then I whisper 
Mine own shame to \ou. — O that I should blush 
To speak what I so much desire to do ! 
And, further — [It hispeys and uses vehement action 

Mant. Is this all? 

Don. '1 hink it not base : 
Although 1 know the office undergoes 
A coarse construction. 

Car. Coarse! 'tis but jirocuiing; 
A smock employment, which has made more knighta. 
In a country 1 could name, than twenty years 
Of service in the field. 

Don. You have my ends. [wantintr 

Mant. Which say you have arrived at: be not 
To yourself, and fear not us. 

Car, 1 know my burthen ; 
I'll bear it with delight. 

M(tnt. Talk not, hut do. [Exeunt Car. and Mant. 

Don. love, what poor shifts thou dost force ug 
to ! [Exit. 

— ♦ 

SCENE II. — A Court in the same. 
Enter Aga, Capiaga, and Janizaries. 

Aga. She was ever our good mistress, and our 
maker, 
And should we ch=?ck at a little hazard for Ler, 
We were unthankful. 

Cap. I dare pawn my head, 
'Tis some disguised minion of the court. 
Sent from great Amuiath, to learn from her 
The viceroy's actions. 

As;a. That concerns not us ; 
His fall may be. our rise : whate'er he be, 
He passes through my guards. 

Cap. And mine — provided 
He give the word. 

Enter Viteli.i. ' ] 

Vitel. To faint now, being thus far. 
Would argue me of cowardice. 

Aga. Stand : the word : 
Or, being a Christian, to press thus far, 
Forfeits thy life. 

Vilet. Donusa. 

Aga. I'asrj in peace. [Exeunt Aga and Janizuries. 

Vitel. What a privilege her name bears ! 
'Tis wondrous strange I If the great officer, 
The guardian of the inner port, deny not — 

Cap. 'J'hy warrant : Speak, or thou art d«ad. 

Vitel. Donusa. 

Cup. That protects thee ; 
Without fear enter. So :— discharge the watch. 

[Exeunt Vitelti ami Capiaga, 



SCENE III.— ..Jn outer Boom in the same. 
Enter Carazie and INIanto. 

Car. Though he hath past the aga and chief porter, 
This cannot be the man. 

Mant. By her description, 
I am sure it is. 

Car. O women, women. 
What are you ? A great lady dote upon 
A harberdasher of small wares ! 

Mant. Pish ! thou hast none. 

Car. No ; if I had, 1 might have served the ttirn: 
This 'tis to want munition, wlien a man 
Should make a breach, and enter. 



4*} 



THE RENEGADO. 



[ActU. 



Enter Vitelli. 

Mntit. Sir, you are welcome : 
Think wliat 'tis to be h.ijjpy, and possess it. 

Cif. Perfume the rooms there, and make way. 
Let music 
Witii choice notes entertain the man the princess 
Now purposes to honour*. 

Vitel. I am ravish'd. [^Exeunt. 



SCENE IV. A Room of' State in the same, A table 
iet Jorth, with jewels and bags upon it. 

Loud music. Enter Donusa, (followed by Carazie,) 
and takes her scat. 

Don. Sing- o'er the ditty that 1 last composed 
Upon my lipvesick passion : suit your voice 
To the music that's placed yoniier, we shall hear you 
With more delight and pleasure. 

Car. 1 obey you. [■^cn^. 

During the song, emer IManio and Vitelli. 

Vitel. Is not this Tempe, or the blessed shades, 
Where innocent spirits reside ? or do I dream, 
And this a heavenly vision ! Howsoever, 
It is a sight too glorious to behold. 
For such a wretch as I am. 

Car. He IS daunted. 

Mant. Speak to him, madam ; cheer him up, or you 
Destroy ^^ hai you have built. 

Car. Would I were furnish 'd 
With his artillery, and if I stood 
Gaping- as he does, hang me. [Aside. 

[Exeunt Carazie and Manio. 

Vitel. That I might 
Ever dream thus ! [Kneels 

Don. Jianish amazement ; 
You wake : your debtor tells you so, -^^our debtor : 
And, to assure you that 1 am a substance t. 
And no atirial figure, thus I laise you. 
Why do you shake? my soft touch brings no ague: 
No biting frost is in this ]r.ilm ; nor are 
My looks like to the Gorgon's head, that turn | 
Men into statues; rather tliey have power. 
Or 1 have been abused, where they bestow 
Their influence, (let me prove it truth in you,) 
To give to dead men motion. 

Vitel. Can this be? 
May I b«!ieve my senses? Dare I think 
I have a memory, or that you are 



• C.ir. Perfume the rooms there, and make way. Let 

music 
Willi choice notes entertain the man, the princess 
A'ow purposes to honour?, 'J lie^e lints are lliiis arranged 
by Cov.'Ur i,i„i Mr. M Maf„ii ; 

»<ar. Pel fume lite rooms there, and make way, 
Jjet music s choice nolisinterUiiu the man, 
The princess now purposes to honour. 
Tlie i-eadL-r iii.iy cuii.-iilur wlivilar ii was worth while to 
tophisticilr the oid copy, for llie s«ke of piO(luciii<; ihrte 
lines of barbarous pro«e. 

f And, to assure y<iu that I am a substance,] Tlie omis- 
»ion .11 llie article by Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason, utterly 
destroys tin- iiietie. 

+ - that Utiu] Mr. M. Mason reads, that /urns.- but j 
he n)i>tal<istlie !;"vern!iieiil of li.e verb, which i- not Gor- 

fan's head, but loo's, as is Millicieiiily clear lioiii what lol 
)HS. 1 iiiiibt observe lure, thai M jssiii'.ir is tix, apt, in 
the wonls of honest I>i>!:berrN, t<i hi h s ivritiiis and rrad'my \ 
appear, when I here is no need of such xuiniiy. rv,,t only i 
Vitells hut JJoiiiisa and all hir c.airl appear a> familiar with 
Uie heathen mythulogy, as Uvid himself. I 



That excellent creature that of late dibdained not 
To look on my poor trifles? 

Don. I am she. 

Vitel. The owner of that blessed name, Donusa, 
Which, like a potent charm, although pronounced 
By my profane, but much unworthier, tongue, 
Hath brouglit me safe to this forbidden place. 
Where Christian yet ne'er trod? 

Don. I am the same. 

Vitel. And to what end, great lady — pardon me, 
Thiit 1 presume to ask, did your toinmand 
Command me hither? Or what am I, to whom 
You should vouchsafe your favours; n-dy, your an- 
If any wild or uncollected speech, [gersi 

Offensively deliver'd, or my doubt 
Of your unknown perfections, have displeased you, 
You wrong your indignation to pronounce, 
Yourself, my sentence: to have seen you only. 
And to have touch'd that fortune-making hand, 
Will with delight -weigh down all tortures, that. 
A iliiity hangman's rage coukl execute. 
Or rigid tyninny command with jileiisure. 

Don. How the abundance of good flowing to thee, 
Is wrong'd in liiis simplicity ! and these bounties. 
Which all our eastern kings liavekneel'd in vain for, 
Do, bj' thv ignorance, or willul fear. 
Meet with a false construction ! Christian, know 
(For till thou art mine by a nearer name. 
That title, though abhorr'd here, takes not from 
1 hy entertainment) that 'lis not the fashion 
Ainoiiii- the greatest and the fairest dames 
Tliis Turkish empire gladly owes* and bovs to. 
To ]mnish where there's no oft'ence, or ii'Ji.rish 
Displeasures against those, witho'.;t vihose mercy 
'1 hey pnrt with all felicity. Piithee, be wise. 
And gently understand me ; do not force her, 
Tliat ne'er knew aught but to command, nor, e'erread 
The elements of affection, but from such 
As gladly sued to her, in the infancy 
Of her new-born desires, to be at once 
Imjiortunate and immodest, 

Vitel. Did I know, 
Great lady, your commands ; or, to w-hat purpose 
i his personated passion tends, (since 'twere 
A crime in me deserving death, to think 
It is your own,) 1 should, to make you sport. 
Take any shape you please t' impose upon me ; 
And with jov strive to serve you. 

Don. Sport ! Thou art cruel. 
If that thou canst interpret my descent 
Fiojn my high birth and greatness, but to be 
A jiartt, in which 1 truly act myself: 
And 1 must hold thee for a dull spectator. 
If it stir not atVection, and invite 
Compassion for my sufferings. Be thou taught 
By my example, to make satisfaction 
For wrongs unjustly oft'er'd. \\ illingly 
I do confess my fault ; 1 injured thee 
In some poor petty trifles : thus I pay for 
The trespass 1 did to thee. Here — receive 



* This Turkish empire gladly owes and bows to,] ilioiigh 
nothing is more coiimioii in oiir i.lil writer-, than ilie iise of 
this «<.nl {.•\n-) in the sense ot possess, yet Coxeti r and 
Mr. M. M.ison invariably corrnpl it into own. 1 have 
alrea'iy noticed this; and tor ilie liitiiie, sli.ill cuntenl my- 
self wiili silently lestoiinn the ueinii e readini;. 
t — hut In he 

A pari, &(■] i. e. to le nolhiiy iiioie than a (iciitioii- cha- 

r.icter; allii.liii Ins lerinii.j; htr p.isjioii personated, or 

pla\ ed. 



CINR V.J 



THE kENEGADO. 



IM 



These ba-i^s, stiifF'd full of our imperial coin ; 

Or, if tins iiaymeiit be too liglit, take here 

These ^oms, for vvhicli the slavish Indian dives 

To the bottom of the main : or, if thou scorn 

These as base dross, which take but common minds. 

But fancy any honour in my gift, 

Whicli is unbounded as the sultan's power. 

And be possest ot 't. 

Viti'l. 1 am overwhelm'd 
With tlie weiuht of happiness you throw upon me: 
Nor c:ui it fall in my imagination, 
What wrong you e'er liave done me*; and much 

less 
How, like a royal t merchant, to returp 
Your great magnifirence. 

Don. Ihev are degrees, 
Not ends, of my intended favours to thee. 
These seeds of bounty 1 yet scatter on 
A glebe I have not tried : — but, be thou thankful, 
The harvest is to come. 

Viiel. What tan be added 
To tliat whiih 1 already have received, 
I cannot couijfehend. 

Don. 'Ihe tender of 
Myself. Why d st thou start? and in that gift. 
Full restitution of that virgin freedom 
Wiiicli thou hast robb'd me of. Yet, I proft-ss, 
I so far prive the loveU' thief that stole it. 
That, were it possible thou couldst restore 
What thou unwittingly hast ravish'd from me. 
I should refuse the ])resent. 

Vitel How 1 shake 
In my constant resolution! and my flesh, 
Rebellious to niy better part, now tells me, 
As if it were a strong defence of frailty, 
A hermit in a desert, trench'd with prayers. 
Could not resist this battery. 

Don. 1 hou an Italian, 
Nay more, I know't, a natural Venetian, 
Such as are courtiers b :rn to please fair ladies, 
Yet come thus slowly on. 

Vitel, Excuse me. madam : 
What imputation soe'er the world 
Is pleased to lay uj)on us, in myself 
I am so innocent, that I know not what 'tis 
That I should offer. 

Don. I3y instinct I'll teach thee, 
And with such ease as love makes me to ask it. 
When a young lady wrings you by the hand, thus, 
Or with an amorous touch presses your foot. 
Looks babies in \our eyes, plays with your locks. 
Do not you tiud, witiiout a tutor's help, 
What 'tis she looks for ? 

Vitel. I ani grown already 
Skilful in the mystery. 

Don. Or, if thus she kiss you. 
Then tastes your lips again 



* TT'/iaf wrmi(/ yon e'er have done me ;] The tild copy 
reads, /' hat wrnmy \ e er have done joii. Tliis traiispo-i- 
tion of iiioiioiiiH, tor •jlijcli 1 am -ar.siverable, seems abso- 
lutely IK CL'ssMiy to malNe si/iise of llie passage. 

+ How, like a loyal merchant, to return 
Your great maijn}ficence.\ We are not to imagine the word 
royal to be only a ranting epithet. In the thiiteenlb cen- 
tury, tile Veneil.ins were ni.isters of the sea; the Sanurios, 
tile JH^Iiniani, the Giirnaldi, &c., all irwrchants, erected 
priucip.iliiies in several pi ices of the Archipelago, (which 
their descendants enjuyed for many generations,) and 
thereby became tinly .md properly roj/a/ wu-ri'^an^s .■ which, 
indeed, was the title geuerally given them all over Europe. 
War BURTON. 



Vitel. That latter blow 
Ha> beat all chaste thoughts from me. 

Don. Say, she points to 
Some private room the sunbeams never enter. 
Provoking dishes passing by, to heighten 
Declined appetite, active music ushering 
Your fainting steps, the waiters too, as born dumb^ 
Not daring to look on you. 

[Exit, inviting him tofoUom 

Vitel. I'hough the devil 
Stood by, and roar'd, I follow : Now I find 
Tliat virtue's but a word, and no sure guard, 
If set upon by beauty and reward. [Ext't. 



SCENE V. — A Hall in AsAsinEc's House. 

Enter AgA, Capiaga, GniMAi.Di, Master, Boatswain, 
and others. 

Aga. The devil's in him, I think. 

Oiim. Let him be damn'd too. 
I'll look on him, though he stared as wild as hell; 
Nay, I'll go near* to tell him to his teeth. 
If he mends not suddenly, and proves more thankful, 
We d.i him too much service. Were't not for shame 
1 could turn honest, and forswear my trade : [now 
Which, next to being truss'd up at the mainyard- 
By some low country butterbox, 1 hate 
As deadly as 1 do fasting, or long grace 
Wiien meat cools on the table. 

Clip. But take heed ; 
You know his violent nature. 

Grim. Let his whores 
And catamites know't; I understand myself, 
And how unmanly 'tis to sit at home. 
And rail at us, that run abroad all hazards. 
If every week we bring not home new pillage. 
For the fatting his seraglio. 

Enter Asambeg and MusTAPHAt. 

Aga. Here he come.s. 

Cap. How terrible he looks ! 

Grim. To such as fear him. 
The viceroy, Asambeg ! were he the sultan's self, 
He'll let us know a reason for his fury. 
Or we must take leave, without his allowance. 
To be merry with our ignorance. 

Asam. Mahomet's hell 
Light on you all ! You crouch and cringe now : — 

\\ here 
Was the terror of my just frowns, when you 

suffer'd 
Those thieves of ]\Ialta, almost in our harbour, 
'I'o board a ship, and bear her safely off, 
While vou stood itUe lookers on? 

Aga. The odds 
In the men and shipping, and the suddenness 
Of their departure, yielding us no leisure 
To send forth others to relieve our own, 
Deterr'd us, mighty sir. 

• Naff, I'll go near to tell him to his tefth] This is a 
colloquial |'lll■a^e, and means, J am not vnliUelii, 1 will not 
scruple uiuih, to tell him to his teeth ;— the moderii editors, 
coinpiel-.endin^ neitlier the sense nor Ihe measure of the 
line, lead, 

Xay, I'll go nearer to tell him to his teeth ! 

+ /Tn/pr Asambeg and Mustapha.] Mr. M. Mason reads, 
Enter Asambeq, Mustapha, and Aga! Did n..i the cor 
^ecte^t of all editors observe that he had iiiarke.! the en 
tranct-ot the ai;a a few lines above J It is line, Co»etei 
has the same direction, bnt this is no excuse f.ir one wl-tr 
sole pretence to credit is the relorinalioi. of hu eiiors. 



ta< 



THE RENEGADO. 



[act il. 



Asam. DeterrM you, cowards ! 
How durst you only entertain the knowledge 
Of what fear was, but in llie not ])erlormance 
Of our command ? In me great Amurath spake; 
My voice did ei ho to your ears his thunder. 
And wili'd you, like so many sea-born tritons, 
Arm'd onlv with the trumpets of your courage. 
To swim up to her, and, like reinoras* 
Hanoing upon her keel, to stay her flight, 
Till rescue, sent from us, liad fetch'd you off. 
You think you're safe now. Who durst but dis- 

])ute it, 
Or mike it queslionable, if, this moment, 
I (barged you, from von hanging clifF, that glasses 
His rugged forehead in the neighbouring lake. 
To throw yourselvesdown headlong ! or, like faggots, 
To (ill the ditches of defended forts, 
While on vour backs we marcli'd up to the breach? 
Grim. Th;it would not I. 
Asiim. ria ! 

Grim. Vet I dare as much 
As any of tlie sultan's boldest sons, 
Whose heaven and hell haiig on his frown or smile. 
His warlike janizaries. 

Asam. Add one syllable more. 
Thou dost pronounce upon thyself a sentence 
That, earrh(|uake-like, will swallow thee. 

Grim. Let it cpen, 
I'll si and the hazard ; those contemned thieves, 
Your fellow-pirates, sir, the bold .Alaltese, 
Whom with your looks you think to ipiell.at Rhodes 
Lau.h'd at great Solyman's anger : and, if treason 
Had not delivered them into his power. 
He had grown old in glory as in years. 
At that so fatal siege ; or risen with shame, 
His ho:)es and threats deluded. 

Asam. Our great prophet ! 
How have 1 lost my anger and my power! 

Grim. Find it. and use it on thy flatterers. 
And not upon thy friends, that dare speak truth. 
These kniglits of Malta, but a handful to 
Your armies, that drinkf rivers' up, have stood 
Your fury at the height, and with their crosses 
Struck paleyour horned moon>| ; these men of Malta, 
Since 1 took pay from you, I've met and fought with, 
Upon advantage too ; vet, to speak truili. 
By tiie soul of honour, I have ever found them 
As ])f evident to direct and hold to do. 
As any train'd up in your discipline, 
Ravisli'd Irom other nations. 

Miiita I perceive 
The lightning in his fiery looks ; the cloud 
Is broke already. 

lirim. 'J'hink not, therefore, sir, 

• like rciiioi'S 



Jianyiny « on her lieel;] — Reinora 'n a fish, or kind of 
worm ili.it *lii:ks to slii^js and retards llitir piss.iue tlirongh 
the w.itiT.— All c'xcelltnt iUustiaiiun uccuis in Suenser's 
" World's Vanitie :" 

All sodaiiily there clove unto her keele 

A link' till that men call remora. 
Which stop! her course, and liil i her by the hecle 
That winde nor tide could move her iieiice away. 

Ed. 
^ your armies that (\nnk rivers lip,] Injudiciously altered 
by Mr. M. Ma>oii, to drank livers up. 

J and with their crosses 

■Struck pate yuur horned iiioon.4 ;] This elegant allusion to 
the illlprc^s of llic Maltese and Tinkish .-landards, is beau- 
Ufully varied in 'I'he Knight of Malta, by Me'cher: 
" And all their silver creicents t. en I saw, 
Like tailing meteors spent, aihl set fur ever 
Uuder tli« CTOti of Malta." 



That you alone are giants, and such pigmies 
You war upon. 

A^am. \'iilain! I'll make thee know 
Thou hast blasphemed theOthoman ]>ower, and safef 
At noonday, migiit'st have given tire to St. Mark's, 
Your proud A'enetian temple. — Seize upon him ; 
I am not so near reconciled to him, 
'J"o hid him die ; that were a benefit 
'I'lie dog's unworthy of. To our use ■jonfiscate 
All that he stands pos.sess'd of; let him taste 
Tlie misery of want, and his vain riots, 
Ijike to so many walking ghosts, affright him 
Where'er he sets his desperate foot. Who is't 
'1 hat does command you ! 

Grim. Is this the reward 
For all my service, and the rape I made 
On fair Piiulina ? 

Asiiin. Drag him lience : — he dies, 
I hat dallies but a minute. 

[Grimiildi is drugged off, his head covei'ed. 

Boitsw. What's become of 
Our shares now, master? 

Must. Would he had been born dumb ! 
The beggar's cure, patience, is all that's left us. 

[EaY.'i(Ht Master and Boutsuiain, 

Mitsta. 'Twas but intemperance of speech, excuse 
Let me prevail so lar. Fame gives him out [him ; 
For a deserving fellow. 

Asam. At Alepjio, 
I durst not press vou so far: give me leave 
To use my own will, and command in Tunis ; 
And, if you please, my privacy. 

Musta. 1 will see you, 
When this high wind's blown o'er. [£ait. 

Asam. So shall you find me 
Ready to do you service. Rage, now leave me ; 
Stern looks, and all the ceremonious forms 
Attending on dread majesty, fly from 
Transformed Asambeg. VVhy should I hug 

[Pults out a key. 
So near my heart, what leads me to my prison ; 
Where she that is inthrall'd, commands her l<eeper. 
And robs me of the fierceness I was born with ? 
Stout men quake at my frowns, and in return 
1 tremble at her softness. Base Grimaldi 
But only named I^aulina, and the charm 
Had almost choak'd my fury, ere I could [her, 

Pronounce his sentence. Would, when first 1 saw 
Mine eyes had met with lightning, and in place 
Of hearing her enchanting tongue, the shrieks 
Of mandrakes had made music to my slumbers ! 
For now I only walk a loving dream, 
And, but to my dishonour, never wake ; 
And yet am blind, but when I see the object, 
And madly dute on it. Appea^, bright spark 

[Opens a door; Paulina comes forth. 
Of all perfection ! any simile 
Borrow'd from diamonds, or the fairest stars, 
To help me to express how dear I prize 
Thy unmatch'd graces, will rise up and chide me 
For poor detraction. 

Paul. I despise thy flatteries : 
Thus spit at them and scorn them ; and being arm'd 
In the assurance of my innocent virtue, 
I stamp upon all doubts, all fears, all tortures. 
Thy barbarous cruelty, or, what's worse, thy dotage, 
The worthy parent of thy jealousy, 
Can shower upon me. 

Asam. If these bitter taunU 



SCF.NE VL] 



THE RENECADO. 



131 



Ravish me from myself, and make nje think 
My greedv ears receive angvlical sounds ; 
How would this tongue, tuned to a loving note 
Invade, and take possession of my soul, 
Which then I durst not call my own ! 

Paul. Thou art false, 
Falser than tnv religion. Do but think me 
Something ahove a beast, nay more, a mons'er 
Would friglit the sun to look on, and then tell me, 
If this base usage can invite affection ? 
If to he mewed up, and excluded from 
Human society ; the use of pleasures ; 
The necessary, not superfluous, duties 
Of servants to discharge those offices 
I blush to name — 

Asam. Of servants! Can you think 
That I, that dare not trust the eye of heaven 
To look upon your beauties ; that deny 
Myself the happiness to touch your pureness, 
Will e'er consent an eunuch, or bought handmaid. 
Shall onre approach you ? — There is something in 
That can work miracles, or 1 am cozen 'd, [you 

Dispose and alter sexes, to my wrong. 
In spite of nature. I will be your nurse. 
Your woman, your physician, and your fool ; 
Till, with your free consent, which 1 have vow'd 
Never to ftirce, you grace me with a name 
That shall supply all these. 

Paul. What is it? 

Asnm. Your husband. 

Paul. ]\Iy hangman when thou pleasest. 

Asnm. Thus I guard me 
Against your further angers — [^Leads her to the dopr. 

Paul. Which shall reach thee, 
Though I were in the centre. 

[Asambeg closes the door uj)on her, and locks it. 

Asam. Such a spirit, 
In such a small proportion, I ne'er read of. 
Which time must alter: Ravish her I dare not; 
The magic that she wears about her neck, 
I think, defends her : — this devotion paid 
To this sweet saint, mistress of my sour pain, 
'Tis fit I take mine own rough *hape again. [Exit. 

SCENE VI.— ^ Street near Donusa'e Palace. 
Enter Francisco and Gazet. 

Frail, I think he's lost. 

Goz. ''l"is ten to one of that ; 
I ne'er knew citizen turn courtier yet. 
But he lost his credit, though he saved himself. 
Why, look you, sir, there are so many lobbies, 
Out-offices, and dispartations here*. 
Behind these Turkish hangings, that a Christian 
Hardly gets off but circumcised. 
Enter Vitelli richly habited, Carazie, and Manto. 

Fran. I am troubled, 
Troubled exceedingly. Ha! what are these? 

* Out-offices, and dispariations here,] I have already 
obsei-Vfd tli.u there is but one edition of tliis play, wincli 
reads in this pUce, dispute aclimts : ihi- error was ileterted 
at the press, and exclianged nnfoitiinately for another, dispu 
tations! whiih is ihe reading of Coxcter aivi Mr. M. Mason 
I have exandned several copies, but can find no further cor 
reclion: d' spar tat ions, which is here adopteil, is the con 
tecliM'.d amendment of Mr. I) ivii'S, who snjs, that it sig 
nifies " s< pirate apartments ;" if it be so. it i' well : at any 
rate it is beiier than the old reading, wliioh .signihes nothing. 
All ingcnnms friend, to whom I .-luwed the passige, ii in- 
clined I'l iliink th.it the gennine word \\Aidisi:arations, from 
the Latin ditparata.— \ leave ihr whole to the reader. 



Gaz. One, bv his rich suit, should be some French 
ambassador ; 
For his train, I think they are Turks. 

Fran. Peace I be not seen, [cover'd, 

Car. You are now past all the guards, and undis- 
Yoo mav return. 

Vitel There's for your pains ; forget not 
My humblest service to the best sf ladies. 

Mant. Deserve her favour, sir, in making haste 
For a second entertainment. 

[Eieitnt Carazie and Mante, 

Vitel. Do not doubt me ; 
I shall not live till then. 

Gaz. The train is vanish 'd : 
Thev have done him some good office, he's so free 
And liberal of his gold. Ha ! do I dream. 
Or is this|^iine own natural master i 

Fran, 'lis he : 
But strangely metamorphosed. You have made, sir, 
A prosperous voyage ; heaven grant it be honest, 
I shall rejoice then too. 

Gaz. You make him- blush. 
To talk of honesty : you were but now 
In the giving vein, and may think of Gazet, 
Your worship's 'prentice. 

Vitel. There's gold : be thou free too. 
And master of my shop, and all the wares 
We brought from Venice. 

Giiz. Rivo, then* ! 

Vitel. Dear sir. 
This ])hice affords not privacy for discourse ; 
But I can tell you wonders ; my rich habit 
Deserves least admiration ; there is nothing 
That can fall in the compass of your wishes. 
Though it were to redeem a thousand slaves 
From the Turkish galleys, or, at home, to erect 
Some pious work, to shame all hospitals. 
But I am master of the means. 

Frnn. 'Tis Strange. 

Vitel. As I walk, I'll tell you more. 

Gaz. Pray you, a word, sir ; 
And then 1 will put on. I have one boon more. 

Vitel. What is't? speak freely.. 

Gaz. Thus thenf : As I am master 
Of your shop and wares, pray you, help me to some 

trucking 
With your last she-customer ; though she crack mj 

best j)iece, 
I will endure it with patience. 

Vilel. Leave your prating. 

Gaz. I may : you have been doing, we will do too. 

Fran. I am amazed, yet will not blame nor chide 
you. 
Till you inform me further : yet must say. 
They steer not the right course, nor traffic well, 
That seek a passage to reach heaven through hell. 

[Exeunt 



* Gaz. Rivo, then!] This interjection' Ccorrnpted, I sup- 
pose, Irom the Spani.-h rio ! which is lignralively "sed fort 
large qnanlity of liqiior) is frcqnently inlrodnced by our 
( Id poets, and generally as an incitement to boisternus inirtb 
;.nd levelry. 

f Ga7.. 'J'hus then: As I am master, fee] This poor ri- 
baUlry is intro'lnced to " set on some qnaiitily of barren 
s ecl,ltMr^ to laugh," a'nd 'lis to be regretted, lor the re.»t of 
Ihe act ha> a vem of gennine poelry running Ihrongh it, 
which woidd not debase llie nol)l« st composilions of the 
times. I Mippose Mas-inger's excuse nmst be that of a 
much greater man, sic virilur. 



tS2 



THE RENEGADO. 



f Arr 111. 



ACT III. 



SCENE T. — A Roomin Donusa's Palace. 
Enter Donusa and Manto. 

Von. When sai4 lie he would come again? 

Mant. He swore, 
Short minutes should be tedious ag-es to him, 
Until the tender of his second service : 
80 much he seem'd transported with the first. 

Don. I am sure I was. I charge thee, Manto, tell 
By all my favours and my bounties, truly, [me. 

Whether thou art a virgin, or, like me. 
Hast forfeited that name ? 

Mant. A virgin, madam*. 
At my years ! beir)g a waiting-woman, ai«l in court 
That were miraculous. I so long since lost ("too ! 
Tliat barren burthen, I alinost forget 
That ever I was one. 

Don. And could thy friends 
Read in thy face, thy maidenhead gone, that thou 
Hadst parted with it? 

Mant. No, indeed : I past 
For current many ve;irs after.till, by fortune, 
Long and continued practice in the sj)ort 
Blew up my deck ; a husband then was found out 
By my indulgent father, and to the world 
AH was made whole again. What need you fear, then. 
That, at your pleasure, may rejiair your honour. 
Durst any envious or malicious tongue 
Presume to taint it ? 

Enter Carazie. 

Don. How now ? 

Car. ]\Iadam, the basha 
Humbly desires access. 

Don, If it had been 
My neat Italian, thou hadst met my wishes. 
Tell him we would be private. 

Car. So I did, 
But he is much importunate. 

Mant. Best dispntcli him ; 
His lingering- here else will deter the other 
From making his approach. 

Don- His entertainment 
Shall not invite a second visit. Go ; 
Say we are pleased. 

Etiier Mustapiia. • 

Must. All happiness 

Don. lie sudden. 
'Twas saucy rudeness in you, sir, to press 
On my retirements ; but ridiculous folly 
To waste the lirae, that might be better spent, 
In comi)limentdl wishes. 

Car. There's a cooling 
For his hot encounter. 

Don. Come you hereto (■tare? 
If you have lost your tongue, and use of speech. 
Resign your government ; there's a mute's place v»id 
In my uncle's court, 1 hear ; and you may work me 
To write for your preferment. 



* A virym, madam, &c ] Manto' Imd been sludyiiig mo- 
rlrsly in IVie Maids Tiayfdy, fioni wliieli too innch oC tliis 
scene is liorroweil. In ilic ciiiichit.i(>n, as Davus remarks, 
(liorc is an allnsiun to Qiiartill 1 : Jvnonem meam iratain 
habeam, si unquam me meininerim viryiiwin Juisae. 



Musta. This is strange ! 
I know not, madam, what neglect of mine 
Has call'd this scorn upon me. 

Diin. To the purpose • 

My will's a reason, and we stand not bound 
To yield account to you. 

Mnsla. Not of your angers : 
But with erected ears I should hear from you 
The story of your good opinion of me. 
Confirm 'd by love and favours. 

Don. How deserved ? 
I have considered you from head to foot, 
And can find nothing in that wainsiot face. 
That can teach me to dote ; nor am 1 taken 
With your grim aspect, or tadpole-like complexion, 
Those scars you glory m, I fear to look on ; 
And had much Vather hear a merry tale, 
Than all your buttles won with blood and sweat. 
Though you belcii forth the stink too in the service. 
And, swear by your mustachios all is true. [sic, 

You are yet too rough for me : purge and take phy- 
Purchase perfumers, get me some French tailor 
To new-creUte you ; the first shape you were made 
wiih [too. 

Is quite worn-out : let your barber wash your face 
You look yet like a bugbear to fright children ; 
Till when I take my leave. — Wait me, Carazie. 

[^Exeunt Donusa and Carazie. 
Mnsta. Stay you, my lady's cabinet-key. 
Mant. How's this, sir ? [else. 

Musta. Stay, and stand quietly, or 3'ou shall fall 
Not to firk your belly up, flounder-like, but never 
To rise again. Offer but to unlock [me,) 

These doors that stop your fugitive tongue, (observe 
And, by my fury, I'll fix there this bolt 

\^Draus h s scimitar. 
To bar thy speech for ever. So ! be sale now ; 
And but resolve me, not of what I doubt. 
But bring assurance to a thing believed. 
Thou makest thyself a fortune ; not dejiending > 

On the uncertain favours of a mistress. 
But art thyself one. I'll not so far question 
INIy judgment and observance, as to ask 
Why I am slighted and contemn d ; but in 
Whose favour it is done. 1 that have read 
The copious volumes of all women's falsehood, 
Commented on by the heart-breaking groans 
Of abused lovers ; all the doubts wash'd off 
With fruitless tears, the spider's cobweb veil 
Of arguments alleged in their defence. 
Blown ofl" with sighs of desperate men ; and they 
Appearing in their full deformity: 
Know, that some other hath displanted me. 
With her dishonour. Has she given it up? 
Confirm it in two syllables. 
Mant. She has. 

Musta. I cherish thy confession thus, and thus ; 
[Gaes herjeweli. 
Be mine. Again I court thee thus, and thus ; 
Now prove but constant to my ends. 

Mant. By all • [crocodiles, 

Mu>.ta. I'^nough ; I dare not dotibt thee. O land 
Made of Egyptian slime, accursed women ; 
But 'tis no tims to rail — come, my best Manto. 

[E.teu'ii. 



SCEKE II.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



1S9 



SCENE 11.—^ Street. 
Enter Yiielli and Francisco. 

Vitel. Sir, as you are my confessor, you stand bound 
Not to reveal whatever 1 discover 
In that religious way : nor dare I doubt you. 
Let it suffice you have made me see my follies, 
And wrought, perhaps, compunction ; fori would not 
Appear an hypocrite. But, when you impose 
A penance on me beyond flesh and blood 
To undergo, you must instruct m? bow 
To put off the condition of a man ; 
Or, if not pardon, at the least, excuse 
My disobedience. Yet, despair not, sir: 
For, though I take mine own way, I shall do 
Something that may hereafter, to my glory, 
Speak me your scholar. 

Fj-aii. I enji)in you not 
To go, but send. 

Vitel. That were a petty trial ; 
Not worih one, so long taught and exercised 
Under so grave a master. Reverend Francisco, 
My friend, my father, in that word, my all ; 
Best confident you shall hear something of me. 
That will redeem me in your good opinion. 
Or judge me lost for ever. Send Gazet 
(She shall give order that he may have entrance) 
To ac(iuaint you with my fortunes. [£.rit. 

Fran, (jo, and prosper. 
Holy saints guide and strengthen thee ! however, 
As thy endeavours are, so may they find 
Gracious acceptance. 

Enter Gazet, and Grimaldi in rags*. 

Gas. Now, you do not roar, sir ; 
You speak not tempests, nor take ear-rent from 
A poor shopkeeper. Do you remember that, sir ? 
I wear your marks here still. 

Fran. Can this be possible ? 
All wonders are not ceased then. 

Grim. Do, abuse me, 
Spit on me, spurn me, pull me by the nose, 
Thrust cut these fiery eyes, that yesterday 
Would have look'd thee dead. 

Gaz. O save me, sir ! 

Grim. Fear notiiing. 
I am tame and quiet ; there's no wrong can force me 
To remember what I was. I have forgot 
1 e'er h.id ireful fierceness, a steel'd heart. 
Insensible of compassion to others ; 
Nor is it fit that 1 should think myself 
Worth mine own pity. Oh ! 

Fran. Grows this dejection 
From his disgrace, do you say ? 

Gaz. \Vh3\ he's cashier'd, sir; 
His ships, his goods, his livery-punks, confiscate : 
And there is such a punishment laid upon him ! — 
The miserable rogue must steal no more. 
Nor drink, nor drab. 

Fran. Does that torment him? 

Gaz. O, sir. 
Should the state take order to bar men of acres 
From these two laudable recreations. 
Drinking and whormg, how should panders purchase, 

• Enlrr Gazet, and Grimaldi in rags] Mr. M. Mason 
reads, Enter Gazrt and Grimaldi, in rays. But Gartt had 
just been tiiriclifd by liis master, and, as be says liiniself, 
was in prosperous circnnistances. It must be as I have 
(iven it IVom the old copy. 

12 



Or thrifty whores build hospitals 1 'Slid ! if I, 
That, suice 1 am made free, may write mvself 
A city gallant, should forfeit two such charters, 
I should be stoned to death and ne'er be pitied 
By the liveries of those companies. 

Fran. Vou'U be « hipt, sir. 
If yon bridle not your tongue. Haste to the palace, 
Your master looks for you. 

Gaz. i\Iy quondam master, 
liicli sons lorget they ever had poor fathers ; 
In servants 'tis more pardonable : as a companion, 
Ot; .so, 1 may consent : but is there hope, sir, 
He has got me a good cliapwoman ? pray you write 
A word or two in my behalf. 

Fran. Out, rascal ! 

Gas. I feel some insurrections. 

Fran. Hence ! 

Gaz. 1 vanish. [Exit. 

Grim. W hy should I study a defence or comfort, 
In whom black guilt and misery, if balanced, 
I know not wl.icli would turn the scale? look upward 
1 dare not ; for, should it but be believed 
'J hat I, (lied deep in hell's most horrid colours. 
Should dare to hope for mercy, it would leave 
No check or feeling in men innocent. 
To cauh at sins the devil ne'er taught mankind yet, 
No ! 1 must downward, downward ; though repent- 
ance 
Could borrow all the glorious wings of grace, 
IMy m.untainous weight of sijis would cruck their 
And sink fliern to hell with me. [pinions, 

Fran. Dreadful ! Hear me, 
Thou miser.ible man. 

Gr'ni. (iood sir, deny not 
But that there is no punishment beyond 
Damnation. 

Enter Master and Boatswain. 

Maiter. Yonder he is ; I pity him. [serve you. 
B'lutsw. Take comfort, captain ; we live still to 
Grim. Serve me! 1 am a devil already : leave me— 
Stand further oft", you are blasted else ! I have heard 
Schoolmen affirm* man's body is coni]>osed 
Of the (our elements; and, as in league together 
They nourish life, so each of them aftbids 
Liberty to the soul, when it grows weaiy 
Of this I.eshy prison. Which shall I make choice of? 
'i he fire? not ; I shall feel that hereafter, 
1 he earth will not receive me. Should S'ome whirl- 
Snatch me into the air, and I hang there, [wind 
I'erpetual jilagues would dwell upon the earth; 
And those snperior bodies, that pour down 
'Iheir cheerful influence, deny to |)ass it, 
'1 hrough tiiose vast regions 1 have in.ected. 
'I he sea? ay, that is justice : there 1 ploiigh'd up 
Mischief as deep as hell : there, there, I'll hidej 
This curst d lump of clay. May it turn rocks, 



/ have heard 



Schnnlmen affirm man's body is composed 
Of I he Jour elements;] Giima di and Sir Toby had 
e'videiitlj Mmlud under the same masters: ihe latter intro- 
duces \\\i, phili.si]|iliy more naturally, but ti.e grave applica 
tiuii of It liy ilie former, is an improvement. Seriously, the 
cunclnsiun ol this speech is very noble. 

1 77if lire f no i] Fire must be read as a dissyllable; I 
si.sprol, however, that there was oriijinally an interjection 
beloie no, which was diopt at the press. 

T tlifre, there 111 hide] Mr. M. Mason omits the 

second thire, uiiich is absolutely necessary to the comple 
tion of tlie verse. 



134 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Act III. 



Where plummet's weight could never reach the sands, 
And grind the ribs of all such barks as press 
The ocean's breast in my unlawful course ! 
I liaste then to thee ; let thy ravenous womb, 
Whom all thinsjs else deny, be now ray tomb ! 

[Exit. 

Master. Follow him, and restrain him. 

[Exit Boatswain. 

Fran. Let this stand 
For an example to you. I'll provide 
A lodaing for him, and apply such cures 
I'o his wounded conscience, as heaven hath lent me. 
He's now my second care ; and my profession 
Binds me to teacli the desperate to repent. 
As far as to confirm the innocent. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — A Room in Asambeg's Pala?e. 
Enter Asamheg, Mustapha, Aga, anrf Capiaga. 

Aaam. Your pleasure? 

Miista. 'i'will exact your private ear ; 
And, when you have received it, j'ou will think 
Too many know it. 

Asam. Leave the room ; but be 

Within our call. — [Exetuit Aga and Capiaga. 

Now, sir, what hurtling secret 

( With which, it seems, you are turn'd cinders) bring 

I'o quench in mv advice or power '. [y^ 

Musta. The fire 
Will rather reach you. 

Asam. Me ! 

Musttt. And consume both ; 
For 'lis impossible to be put out. 
But with the blood of those that kindle it: 
And yet one vial of it is so precious. 
In being borrow'd from the Othoman spring. 
That better 'lis, I think, both we should perish, 
Than prove the desperate means that mustrestrain it 
From spreading further. 

Asam 'I"o the point, and quickly : 
These winding circumstances in relations. 
Seldom environ trutli. 

Musta. (ruth, Asambeg ! 

Asam. Truth, jMuslapha ! I said it, and add more, 
You toucli upon a string that to my ear 
Doe;' sound Donusa. 

Mustu. You then understand 
Who 'tis I aim at. 

Asam. Take heed ; Mustapha, 
Remember what she is, and whose we are ; 
'Tis her neglect, perhaps, that you complain of; 
And, should you practise to revenge her scorn, 
W'itii any plot to taint her in her honour, 

Musta. Hear me. 

Asnm. I will be heard first, — there's no tongtie 
A subject owes, that shall out-thunder mine. 

Musta Well, take your way. 

Asam. I then again repeat it; 
If Mustapha dares, with malicious breath. 
On jealous suppositions, presume 
To blast the blossom of lionusa's fame, 
Because he is denied a happiness 
Which men of equal, nay, of more desert. 
Have sued in vain for 

iMusta. More ! 

Astim. More. ' Twas I spake it. 
The biisha of Natolia and myself 
Were rivals for her ; either of us brought 



More victories, more trophies, to plead for us 

To our great master, than you dare lay claim to ; 

Yet stili, bv his allowance, she was left 

To her election : each of us owed nature 

As much for outward form and inward worth, 

To make wav for us to her grace and favour. 

As vou brought with you. We were heard, repulsed* 

Yet thought it no dishonour to sit down 

With the disgrace, if not to force affection 

May merit such a name. 

Mitsta. Have you done yet? 

Asam Be, therefore, more than sure the ground on 
which 
You raise your accusation, may admit 
No undermining of defence in her: 
For if, with pregnant and apparent proofs. 
Such as may force a judge, more than inclined. 
Or partial in her cause, to swear her guilty. 
You win not me to set off' your belief; 
Neither our ancient friendship, nor the rites 
Of sacred hospitality, to which 
I would not ofi'er violence, shall protect you. 
— Now, wlien you please. 

Musta. I will not dwell upon , 

Much circumstance ; yet cannot but profess, 
With the assurance of a loyalty 
Equal to yours, the revereme I owe 
The sultan, and all such his blood makes sacred ; 
That there is not a vein of mine, wiiicli yet is 
Unemptied in his service, but this moment 
Should freely open, so it might wash off 
The stains of her dishonour. Could you think. 
Or, thougli you saw it, credit your own eyes. 
That she, the wonder and amazement of 
Her sex, the pride and glory of the empire 
That hath di^dain'd you, slighted me, and boasted 
A frozen coldness, wliich no appetite 
Or heiglit of blood could thaw ; should now so far 
Be hurried with the violence of her lust. 
As, in It burying lier high birth, and fame. 
Basely descend to fill a Christian's arms ; 
And to him yield her virgin honour up, 
Nay, sue to him to take it? 
Asam. A Christian ! 
Must'i. Temper 
Your admiration: — and what Christian, think you? 
No prince disguised, no man of mark, nor honour: 
No daring undertaker in our service; 
But one, whose lips her foot should scorn to touch j 
A poor mechanic pedlar. 
Asam. He ! 
Musta. Nay, more ; 
Whom do you think she made her scout, nay bawd, 
To find him out, but me? What place make choice of 
To wallow in her foul and loathsome pleasures. 
But in the palace? Who the instruments 
Of close conveyance, but the captain of 
Your guard, the aga, and that man of trust, 
The warden of the inmost port? — I'll prove this ; 
And, though I fail to shew her in the act. 
Glued like a neighing gennet to her stallion, 
Your incredulity shall be convinced 
With proofs 1 blush to think on. 

Asam. Never yet 
This flesh felt such a fever. By the life 
And fortune of great Amurath, should our prophet 
(Whose name 1 bow to) in a vision speak this, 
'Twould make me doubtful of my faith! — Lead on'; 
And, when my eyes and ears are, like yours, guilty 



Scene V.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



135 



M) rage sliall then appear; for I will i!o 
Sometiiing ; — but what, 1 am not yet deteimin'd. 

[^Exeunt. 

SCENE IV.— An outer Room in Donusa's Palace. 
Enter Cahazic, Manto, and Gazet. 

Car. Tliey are private to their wishes ? 

Mant. Doubt it not. 

Giiz. Ajiretty striicturt^ this! a court do you call it? 
Vaulted and arch'd ! O, here has been old jumbling 
Behind this arras. 

Ciir. Prithee let's have some sport. 
\\ ith this fresh codshead. 

Mant. 1 am out of tune, [hope 

But do as you please. , My conscience ! — tush, the 
Of liberty throws* that burthen oft"; I must 
Go « atch, and make discovery. \_Exit. 

Car. lie is musing. 
And will talk to himself; he cannot hold ; 
'i he ]ioor fool's ravish'd. 

Gtiz. I a;n in my master's clothes, 
Thev fit me to a hair too ; let but any 
Indifferent g-amester measure us inch by inch, 
Or weigh us by the standard, 1 may pass : 
1 h.ive been proved and j)roved again true metal. 

Car. How he surveys himself! 

Oaz. 1 have heard, that some 
Have fool'd themselves at court into good fortunes, 
'J'liat never hoped to thrive by wit in the city. 
Or iionesty in the country. If 1 do not 
IMake the best laugh at me, I'll weep for myself, 
rf ihev give me hearing- 'tis resolved — I'll try 
What may be done. By your favour, sir, 1 pray you. 
Were you born a courtier? 

Car. No, sir; why do you ask? 

Guz. Because I thought that none could be pre- 
But such as were begot there. [ferr'd. 

Car. O, sir ! many ; 
And, howsoe'er you are a citizen born, 
\ et if your mother were a handsome woman, 
And ever long'd to see a mask at courtf, 
It is an even lay, but that you had 
A courtier to your father ; and I think so, 
\'ou bear yourself so sprightly. 

Gas. It may be ; 
But pray you, sir, had I such an itch upon me 
To Change my copy, is there hope a place 
May be had here for money ? 

Car. Not without it, 
That 1 dare viarrant you. - 

G(/s. 1 have a pretty stock, 
And would not have my good parts undiscover'd ; 
V\ haf. places of credit are there? 

Car. There's your beglerbegj. 
. Gaz. By no means that : it comes too near the 
And most prove so, that come there. [beggar. 



• Of liberty throws, &c.] So the old copy. The inodern 
edildis ifad, dofs thratv, which (lej-troys the metre, not only 
of lliis but 111 Iht two siibseqiifiit lines. 

• Jf your nidlher were a handtome woman. 

And ever lony'd to seen ma.«k ai court,! It should be re- 
niciiibcred lli.it Carazie was born in lingland, and that lie 
additfses aVeietian; the consequences ot 'masks, &c., were 
thtrelore as inlelli-;ible to the one, as familiar to the other. 
It is not always that so good a plea can be oft'ere.l for the 
author's allu>ions ; lor, to confess ihe trmh, the habits and 
lii.inneis of dilteieiit counliies are, in some of these scenes, 
as 1 have said before, most cruelly confounded. 

:Chi. There's your begleibcg.] i. e. chief governor of a 
province. 



Car. Or your sanzacke*. 

Gaz. 8auce-jack ! fie, none of thatf . 

Car. Your chiaus^. 

Grts. Nor that. 

Car Chief gardener. 

Gaz. Out upoii't ! [woman, 

'Twill put me in mind my mother was an herb- 
What is your pla e, I pray you ? 

Car. Sir, an eunuch. 

Gaz. An eunuch ! very fine, i'faith; an eunuch ! 
And what are your employments? 

Car. Neat and e<isy$: 
In the day, I wait on my lady when she eats. 
Carry her pahtofles, bear up her train ; 
Sing her asleep at night, and, when she pleases, 
I am her bedfellow. 

Gaz. How! her bedfellow] 
And lie with her? 

Car. Yes, and lie with her. 

Gaz. O rare ! 
I'll be an eunuch, though I sell my shop for't, 
And all my wares. 

Car. It is but parting with 
A precious stone or two: 1 know the price on't. 

Gaz. I'll part with all my stones; and when Iain 

An eunuch, I'll so toss and touse the ladies 

Pray you help me to a chapman. 

Car. The court siiigeon 
Shall do you that favour. 

Gaz. 1 am made ! an eunuch I 
E/iteriMANTO. 

Mant. Carazie,. quit the room. 
Car. Come, sir; we'll treat of 
Your business further. 

Gaz. Excellent! an eunuch! , [Exeunt. 



SCENE V. — An inner Room, in the same. 
Enter Do.\L'R\ and Viielli. 

Vilel. Leave me, or I am lost again : no prayers. 
No penitence, can redeem me. 

Don. Am 1 grown 
Old or deform'd since yesterday? 

Vitel. You are still, 
(Although the sating of your lust hath sullied 
The immaculate whiteness of your virgin beauties,) 
Too fair for me to look on : and, though pureness. 
The sword with which you everfoughtand concjuer'd, 
Is ravish'd from you by unchaste desires. 
You are too strong for flesh and blood to treat with, 
'I hough iron grates were interposed between us, 
To warrant me i'roin treason. 

Don. W horn do you fear ? 

Vitel. That human frailf^ I took from my mother. 
That, as my youth increased, grew stronger on me ; 
That still pursues me, and, though once recover'd. 
In scorn of reason, and, what's more, religion. 
Again seeks to betray me. 

• Car. Or your sanzacke ] Governor of a city. 

+ Gas. Sauce jack ! Jie, none of that. I The pleasantry ot 
G^zet is nut very con-picuous lor its hnniour ; the inodern 
editors however have contrived to cloud if. they reitd, 
iiattcy Jack I 

i Car. Your chiaus ] An officer in the Turkish coiiii, who 
perlonns the duly of an usher; also an ambassador lo foreign 
princes and st.(its.— Coxetek. 

5 Car. Neat and easy \ I have taken this from Ga/.el, to 
whom it has liilheito lieeii allolteil, and given il I" Cara/.ie. 
The old co|.y h.is no mark ot ;;..ei rogation an'-r easy.'.^Mt* 
seems to prove that the words oiigiiially belonged lo hini. 



136 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Act III, 



Don. If you mean, sir, 
To my embraces, you turn rebel to 
The laws of nature, the great queen and mother 
Of all productions, and deny allegiance, 
Where vou stand bound to pay it. 
' Viiel. I will stop 

Mine ears against these charms, which, if Ulysses 
Could live again,. and hear this second syren. 
Though bound with cables to his mast, his ship too 
Fasten'd with all her anchors, this enciiantment 
Would force him, in despite of all resistance, 
To leap into the sea, and follow her ; • 
Although destruction, with outstretch'd arms, 
-Stood ready to receive him. 

Don. Gentle sir, 
Though you deny to hear me, yet vouchsafe 
To look upon me : though I u^^e no language, 
nie grief for this unkind rejiulse will print 
Such a dumb eloquence upon my face. 
As will not only plead but prevail for me. 

Vitel. I am a coward. I will see and hear you, 
The trial, else, is nothing ; nor the conquest. 
My temperance shall crown me with hereafter, 
Worthy to be remember'd. Up, my virtue ! 
And holy thoughts and resolutions arm me 
Against this fierce temptation ! give me voice 
Tuned to a zealous anger, to express 
At wliat an over-value I have purchased 
Tiie wanton treasure of your virgin bounties; 
That, in their false fruition, lieap upon me 
Despair and horror — That 1 could with that ease 
Redeem my forfeit innocence, or cast up 
The poison I received into my entrails. 
From the alluring cup of your enticements, 
As now I do deliver back the price 

[^Ihtnrns the jewels. 
And salary of your lust ! or thus unclothe me 
Of iwi's gay trappings, the proud livery 

[T/inijis offhh cloak and doublet. 
Of wicked pleasure, which bui worn and heated 
With the fire of entertainment and consent. 
Like to Alcides' fatal shirt, tears off 
Our flesh and reputation both together, 
Leaving; our ulcerous follies bare and open 
To all malicious censure ! 
: Don. You must grant. 
If you hold that a loss to you, mine equals, 
If not transcends it. If you then first tasted 
'I hat poison, as you call it, I brought with me 
A palate unacquainted with the relisji 
Of those delights, which most, as I have heard. 
Greedily swallow ; and then the offence, 
If my opinion may be believed, 
Is not so great : howe'en the wrong no more 
Than if Hippolitus and the virgin huntress 
Should meet and kiss together. 

Vitel. What defences 
Csn lust raise to maintain a precipice 

Enter Asambeg aiid Mustapha, afcwe. 

To the abyss of looseness ! — but affords not 
The least stair, or the fastening of one foot. 
To reascend that glorious height we fell from. 

Musta. By Mahomet, she courts him ! 

[Dontua kneels. 

Asam. Nay, kneels to him ! 
Observe, the scornful villain turns away too. 
As glorying in his conquest. 

Don, Are you marble J 



If Christians have mothers, sure they share in 

The tigress' fierceness ; for, if you were owner 

Of human pitv. you could not endure 

A princess to kneel to you, or look on 

Tliese falling tears which hardest rocks would soften 

And yet reniaih unmoved. Did you but give me 

A taste of hapiiiness in your embraces, 

Tliat the i-emembrance of tlie sweetness of it 

JMight leave i)erpetual bitterness behind it? 

Or shew'd me what it was to be a wife, ' 

To live a widow ever? 

Asam. She has confest it!' 

Seize on him, villains. 

Etiter Capiaga and Aga, with Janizaries. 

the Furies ! 

[Exeunt Asambeg and Mustapha above. 

Don. How ! 
Are we betray 'd ? 

Vitel. The bette*; I expected 
A Turkish faith. 

Don. Wlio am I, that you dare this ? 
'Tis I that do conimand you to forbear 
A touch of violence. 

Aga. We, already, madam. 
Have satisfied your pleasure further than 
We know to answer it. 

Cap. Would we were well off! 
We stand too far engaged, I fear. 

Don. For us ? 
We'll biing vou safe off: who dares contradict 
What is our pleasure ? 

Re-enter Asambeo and Mustapha, below. 

Asam. Spurn the dog to prison. 
I'll answer you anon. 

Vitel. What jiunishment 
Soe'er I undergo, I am still a Christian. 

\^Exit Guard with Vitelli. 

Don. WMiat bold presumption's this? Under what 
Am I to fall, that set my foot upon [l<*w 

Your statutes and decrees ? 

Mtista. The crime committed 
Our Alcoran calls death. 

Don. 'i'ush ! who is here. 
That is not Amurath's slave, and so, unfit 
To sit a judge upon his blood? 

Asam. You have lost. 
And shamed the privilege of it ; robb'd me too 
Of my soul, my understanding, to behold 
Your base unworthy fall from your high virtue. 

Don. I do appeal to Amurath. 

Asam. We will offer 
No violence to your person, till we know 
His sacred pleasure ; till when, under guard 
You shall continue here. 

Don. Shall ! 

Asam. I have said it. 

Doji. We shall remember this. 

Asam. It ill becomes 
Such as are guilty, to deliver threats 
Against the innocent. [T/ie Guard leads off Donusa. 

1 could tear this flesh now. 
But 'tis in vaiii ; nor must 1 talk, but do. 
Provide a well-manr.'d galley for Constantinople : 
Such sad news never canio to our great master. 

As he directs, we must proceed, and know 
No will but his, to whom what's ours we owe. 

[^ExeiiTi. 



SCENB I.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



ACT IV. 



1S7 



SCENE I. — A Boom in Grimaldi's House. 
Enter Master and Boatswain. 

Mast. He does begin to eat? 

Boiitsw. A little, master ; 
But our best liope for liis recovery is, tliat 
His raving leaves him ; and tliose dreadful words 
Damnation and despair, with which he ever 
Ended all his discourses, are forgotten. 

Mast. This stranger is a most religious man sure; 
And I am doubtful, whether his charity 
In the relieving of our wants, or care 
To cure the wounded conscience of Grimaldi, 
Deserves more admiration. 

Bnitxw. Can you guess 
Wliat the reason should be, that we never mention 
The church, or tlie high altar, but his melancholy 
Grows and increases on him ? 

AldSt. I have heard him, 
When he gloried to pnfess himself an atheist, 
Talk often, and with much delight and boasting, 
Of a rude prank he did ere he turn'd pirate ; 
The memory of which, as it appears, 
Lies heavy on him. 

B"<(tsw. Pray you, let me understand it. 

Must. Upon a solemn day, wiien the whole city 
Join'd in devotion, and wiih bwefiot steps 
Pass'd to St. Mark's, the duke, and tiie whole sig- 
Helping to perfect the religious j)omp ["ory, 

With whicii they were recei<ed; wlien all men else 
Were full of tears, and groan'd btneath the weiglit 
Of past offences, of whose heavy burthen 
They came to be absolved and freed ; our captain, 
Whether in scorn of those so pious rites 
He had no feeling of, or else drawn to it 
Out of a wanton, irreligious madness, 
(1 know not which,) ran to the holy man, 
As he was doing of the work of grace*. 
And, snatching from his hands the sanctified means, 
Dash\l it upon the pavement. 

Biwtsw. How escaped he. 
It being a deed deserving death with torture ? 

Must. The general amazement of tlie people 
Gave him leave to quit the temple, and a gondola, 
Prepared, it seems, before, brought liim aboard; 
Since which he ne'er saw Venice. I he remembrance 
Of this, it spoms, torments him ; aggravated 
With a strong belief he cannot receive jiardon 
For this foul fact, but from iiis hands, against whom 
It was committed. 

Biiiiisw. And what course intends 
His heavenly physician, reverend Francisco, 
To beat down this opinion ? 

Mast. He promised 
To use some holy and religious fineness!. 



* As he was doing of the work of grace, &c.] This is a 
revcniili il dc-ciplioii of tlic tlfViilioii dt ilie Imst; and 
could only bo wriittii by a man on wliom lliat awlid act of 
pious dai'iii;j; lial made a deip and lasting iinprt'ssion. 

t 7'o use some holy and religious tim'ncss,] i. k. subtile and 
ingenious dtvicte. Coxiier, wlio.-e ideas of li nniony were 
never paralleleil, nnle^s by iliose of Mr. M. Mason, cor- 
rupted nils \nu> finesse, tlioii^h the line was reduced to abso- 
lute prose by il ! .Massin^er knew no sucli word; the in- 
inidiiciion of wliicli i* justly reprobated by JoliiiM.n, as 
wliolly Ui. necessary. Bui, indeed, in all times, our lanj^uajie 
has betii over-ruu and detiased by fdiilaMic terms. 



To this good end ; and in the mean time,cbarged me 
To keep him dark, and to admit no visitants : 
But on no terms to cross him. Here he comes. 
Enter GniMALDi with a book*. 
Grim. For theft, he that restores treble the value, 
J\lakes satisfaction ; and for want of means 
To do so, as a slave must serve it out, [her© 

Till he hath made full payment. There's hope leif) 
Oh ! with wliat willingness would I give up 
My liberty to those that I have pillaged; 
And wish the numbers of my years, though wasted 
In the most sordid slavery, might equal 
The rapines I have made ; till with one voice. 
My patient sufterings might exact from my 
Most cruel creditors, a full remission, 
An eye's loss with an eye, limb's with a limb ; 
A sad account ! — yet, to find peace within here, 
Though all such as I have maim'd and dismember'd 
In drunken quarrels, or, o'ercorae with rage, 
When thev were given up to my power, stood here 
And cried' for restitution ; to appease tliem, [now, 
1 would do a bloody justice on myself: 
Pull out th<?se eyes, that guided me to ravish 
Their sight from others ; lop these legs, that bore me 
To barbarous violence ; with this hand cut oft' 
This instrument of wrong, till nought v> ere left me 
But this poor bleeding limbless trunk, whicli gladly 
1 would divide among ihem. — Ha! what think I 

£/(fcr. FtiANcisco in a cope, like a Biahop. 
Of petty forfeitures ! in this reverend habit. 
All that I am turn'd into eyes, 1 look on 
A deed of mine so fiend-like, that repentance. 
Though with my tears 1 taught the sea new tides, 
Can never wasli off: all my thefts, my rapes, 
Are venial tresjjasses, cim)jare(l to what 

1 off'ei'd to that shajie, and in a place too. 

Where I stood bound to kneel to't. [Kneeis. 

Fran. 'Tis forgiven : 

I with his tongue, whom in these sacred vestments, 

With impure hands thou didst offend, pronounce it. 

I bring peace to thee ; see that ihou deserve it 

In ihv fair life hereafter. 
Grim. Can it be I 

Dare I believe this vision, or bcpe 

A pardon e'er may find me 1 
Fran. Purchase it 

Hy zealous undertakings, and no more 

'Twill be remembered. 

Grim. What celestial balm [Rises. 

I feel now pour'd into my wounded conscience ! 

What penance is tliere I'll not undergo, [sure 

Though ne'er so sharp and rugged, with more plea- 

Than flesh and blood e'er tasted! shew me true 
Sorrow, 

Arm'd with an iron whip, and I will meet 

The stripes she brings along with her, as if 



" Whirli sweet Pliilisides fetch'd of late from France." 
The wold occurs, in ils Natural sense, in 'I'he Devil s an Asa.- 

" y.u'll r all willi yuar fineness " 

Here, too, Mr. Syii.pson pr. poses to n.-di\ fitu'sse f while 
Whalley, who properly lejecis his amendinent, expl.u.s the 
original word, hy " shy iiess, or coyness ;" to whicli it heart 
not the slightest ali'iiiiy. 

• with a hook.l The book was a very proper 

one lor Grimaldi- fioi'i his releieiices, it appears to be the 
Bible. 



1)8 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Act IV. 



They were the gentle touches of a hand 

That comes to cure me._ Can good deeds redeem me? 

I will rise up a wonder to tlie world. 

When I have given strong proofs how 1 am alter'd. 

I. tliat have sold such as professed the faith 

That I was born in, to captivity, 

Will make their number equal, that I shall 

Deliver from the oar ; and win as many 

By tlie clearness of my actions, to look on 

'I'heir misbelief and loath it. I will be 

A convoy for all merchants ; and tliought worthy 

To be reported to tlie world, Jiereafter, 

The child of your devotion ; nurs'd up, 

And made strong by your charity, to break through 

All dangers hell can' bring forth to oppose me : 

Nor am I, though my fortunes were thought desper- 

Now you have reconciled me to myself, [ate. 

So void of worldly means, but. in despite 

Of the proud viceroy's wrongs, I can do something 

To witness of my change : when you please, try me*, 

And I will perfect what you shall enjoin me, 

Or fall a joyful martyr. 

l-'^an. You will reaj) 
The comfort of "it : live yet undiscover'd 
And with your holy meditations strengthen 
Your Christian resolution : ere long. 
You shall hear further from me. [Exit. 

Grim. I'll attend 
All your commands with jjatience ; — come, my mates, 
I hitherto have lived an ill examjjle. 
And, as your captain, led you on to mischief; 
But now will truly labour, that good men 
May say hereafter of me to my glory, ' 
(Let but my power and means hand with my willf,) 
His good endeavours did weigh down his ill. 

'[Exeunt. 

Re-eiiter Francisco, t;i his usual habit. 

Fran. This penitence is not counterfeit : liowso- 
Good actions are in themselves rewarded. [ever. 

My travail's to meet with a double crown : 
If that Vitelli come off safe, and prove 
Himself the master of his wild affections—: 

Enter Gazet. 

O, I shall have intelligence ; how now, Gazet, 
Why these sad looks and tears? 

Gas. Tears, sir ! I have lost [for 

My worthy master. Your rich heir seems to mourn 
A miserable father, your young widow. 
Following a bedrid husband to his grave, 
Would have her neighbours think she cries and roars. 
That she must part wit!) such a goodinan do-nothing ; 
When 'tis because V.e stays so long above ground. 
And hinders a rich suitor. — All's come out, sir. 



• / can do somethiny 

To witness of my change : ivhen you please, try me, &c.] 
The reader must be convinced, long eie this, that the modern 
editions of Massinger otter a very imdeqiiate represenlation 
of his works Numerous as the errors pointed out are, a 
still greater number liavc been eorrecled in silence : of these 
the source is generally obvious; here, however, U one for 
which no molive can be assigned •, it is a gratuitous and 
wanton deviaiion from ihe original, that no degree of folly 
can justify, no excess of negligence account lor: — In Coxcter 
and Mr. M. Mason the pa?s«ge stands thus; 
/ can do somcth'inij 

To prove that I have power, when you please try me ! 
" *(Let but my power and means hand with my will,)] Or, 
us we should now f»y,<Jo hand in hand, co-overate with my 
will. 



We are smoak'd for being coney-catchers ; my mas- 
Is put in prison •, his she customer [ter 
Is under guard too ; these are things to weep for: — 
But mine own loss consider'd, and what a fortune 
I have had, as they say, snatch'd out of my chops. 
Would make a man run mad. 

Fran. 1 scarce have leisure, 
I am so wholly taken up with sorrow 
For my loved pupil, to enquire thy fate ; 
Yet 1 will hear it. 

Gaz. Whv, sir, I had bought a place, 
A place of credit too, an I had gone through with it; 
I should have been made an eunuch : there was ho- 
nour 
For a late poor 'jtrentice ! when, upon the sudden. 
There was such a hurlyburly in the court. 
That I was gJad to run away, and can'y 
The price of my office with rae. 

}'7-a)i. Is that all ? 
You hove made a saving voyage : we must think novr. 
Though not to free, to comfort s^ad Vitelli; 
My grieved soul suffers for him. 

Gaz. I am sad too ; 
But had I been an eunuch 

Fran. Think not on it. [Exeunt. 



SCENE 11.—^ Hall in Asambeg's Palace. 

Enter Asa m beg ; he unlnchs a door, and Paulina 
conies forth. 

Asam. Be your own guard : obsequiousness and 
service 
Shall win you to be mine. Of all restraint 
For ever take your leave, no threats shall awe you. 
No jealous doubts of mine disturb your freedom, 
No fee'd spies wait upon your steps : your virtue, 
And due consideration in yourself 
Of what is noble, are the faithful helps 
I leave you, as supporters, to defend you 
From falling basely. 

Paul. This is wondrous strange : 
Whence flows this alteration ? 

Asam. From true judgment; 
And strong assurance neither grates of iron, 
Hemin'd in with walls of brass, strict guards, high 
The forfeiture of honour, nor the fear [birth, 

Of infamy or punishment, can stay 
A woman slaved to appetite, from being 
False and unworthy, 

Paul. You are grown satirical 
Against our sex. Why, sir, I durst produce 
Myself in our defence, and from you challenge 
A testimony that's not to be denied, 
All fall not under this uneijual censure. 
1, that have stood your flatteries, your threats, 
Borne up against your tieice temptations ; scorn *d 
The cruel means you practised to sujiplant me. 
Having no arms to help me to hold out. 
But love of piety, and constant goodness ;| 
If you are unconfirm'd, dare again boldly. 
Enter into the lists, and combat with 
All opposites man's malice can bring forth 
To shake me in niv cliastity, built upon 
The rock of my religion. 

Asam. I do wish 
I could believe you; but, when I shall show you 
A most incredible example of 
Your frailty, in a princess, sued and sought to 
By men of worth, of rank, of eminence ; courted 



Scene II.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



139 



By happiness itself, and her cold temper 
Approved by many ypars ; yet she to fall, 
Fall from lierself, her glories, nay, her safety, 
Into a gulpli of shame and black despair : 
1 think you'll doubt yourself, or, in beholding 
Her punishment, for ever be deterr'd 
From yielding basely. 

Paul. I v.ould see this wonder; 
'lis, sir, ray first petition. 

Asam. And thus granted ; 
Above, you shall observe all. [Eiii Paulina. 

Enter MusTAPHA. 

Musta. Sir, I sought you, 
And must relate a wonder. Since 1 studied. 
And knew what man was, I was never witness 
Of such invincible fortitude as this Christian 
Shows in his sufferings : all the torments that 
We could present him with, to fright his constancy, 
Confirm'd, not shook it ; and those heavy chains, 
That eat into his flesli, appear'd to him 
Like bracelets made of some loved mistress' hairs 
We kiss in the remembrance of her favours. 
I am strangely taken with it, and have lost 
Much of my fury. 

Asam. Had he sufFer'd poorly, 
It had call'd on mv contempt ; but manly patience. 
And all-commanding virtue, wins upon 
An enemy. I shall think upon him. Ha! 

Enter Aga*, with a black box. 

So soon return 'd ! Tliis speed pleads in excuse 
Of your late fault, which I no more remember. 
What's the grand sigiiior's pleasure? 

Aga. 'lis enclosed here. 
The box too that contains it may inform you 
How he stands affected : I am trusted with 
Nothing but this, on Ibrfeit of your head. 
She must have a sjieedy trial. 

Asam. Bring her in 
In black, as to her tuneral : [Exit Agn.'] 'tis the colour 
Her fault wills her to wear, and which injustice, 
I dare not pity. Sit, and take your place: 
However in her life she has degenerated. 
May she die nobly, and in tliat confirm 
Her greatness, and higii blood ! 

Solemn mutic. Re-enter the Aga, with the Capiaga 
Itailing in Donusa in black, her trnin borne up by 
Carazie and Manto. A Guard attending. Pau- 
lina e)iteis above. 

Musta. I now could melt ; 
But, soft compassion leave me. 

Mant. L am afl'righted 
With this dismal preparation. Should the enjoying 
Of loose desires find ever such conclusions, 
All women would be vestals. 

Don. 'I'hat you clothe me 



• Enter Aga,] I suppose the reader will be inclined to 
exclaim with Asair.bej;, "So soon return'd !" for from Tunis 
to Constaiiiinople is an inierval humane commodum. I hiive 
neither mtired, nor proposed to enter, into any disquisitions 
on the [.reservation ol the unities of time and place, wliich 
must be a work of absolute snperero!;ation in criticizing an 
auilior wlio totally forgot or disregarded them. IVIassinger is 
not more irrt'gular than his contemporaries :^indeed he is 
less so til. in many of lliein ; but, in all cases, I am persuaded 
that he loUnwtd his stmy, without entertaining much anxiety 
»s to till time it might occupy, or the various changes of 
tiluatioii it might require. 



In this sad livery of death, assures me 
Your sentence is gone out before, and I 
Too late am call'd for, in my guilty cause 

To use qualification or excuse 

Yet must I not part so with mine own strengths*. 
But borrow, from my modesty, boldness, to 
Enquire by whose authority you sit 
My judges, and whose warrant digs ray grave 
In tlie frowns you dart against my life ? 

Asam. See here. 
This fatal sign and warrant! Tliis, brought to 
A general, fighting in the headf of his 
Victorious troops, ravishes from his hand 
His even then conquering sword ; this, shown unto 
I'he sultan's brothers, or liis sons, delivers 
His deadly anger; and, all hopes laid bv, 
Commands them to prepare themselves for heaven ; 
Which would stand with the quiet of your soul. 
To think upon, and imitate. 

Don. Give me leave 
A little to complain ; first, of the hard 
Condition of my fortune, which may move you, 
Though not to rise up intercessors for me, 
Y'et, in remembrance of my former life, 
(Tliis being the first spot tainting mine honour,) 
'I'o be the means to bring me to his presence : 
And then I doubt not, but I could allege 
Such reasons in mine own defence, or plead 
So humbly, (my tears helping,) that it should 
Awake his sleeping pity. 

Asam. 'Tis in vain. 
If you liave aught to say, you shall have hearing ; 
And, in me, think him present. 

Don. 1 would thus then 
First kneel, and kiss his feet ; and after, tell him 
How long I had been his darling ; what delight 
My infant years afforded iiim ; how dear 
He prized liis sister in botli bloods, my mother: 
That she, like him, had frailty, that to me 
Descends as an inheritance ; then conjure him. 
By her blest ashes, and his fathei's soul. 
The sword that rides upon his thigh, his right hand 
Holding the sceptre and the Othoman fortune. 
To have compassion on me. 

Asum. But suppose 
(As I am sure) he would be deaf, what then 
Could you infer ? 

Don. I, then, would thus rise up. 
And to his teeth tell him he was a tyrant, 
A most voluptuous and insatiable ejiicure 
In his own pleasures ; which lie hugs so dearly. 
As proper and peculiar to himself, 
Tha', he denies a moderate lawful use 
Of all delight to others. And to tliee. 
Unequal judge, I speak as much, and charge thee, 
But with impartial eyes to look into 
Thyself, and then consider with what justice 
'I'hou canst pronounce my sentence. Unkind nature. 
To make weak women servants, proud men masters ! 
Indulgent Mahomet, do thy bloody laws 
Call my embraces with a Christian death, 
Having my heat and May of youth to plead 
In my excuse ? and yet want power to punish 

* Yet must 1 not part so with mine own strengths.] The 
modern editors read streniiih, which does not convi-y Mas- 
singfr's nuaning. and, in^leed, is scarcely sense inlliis place: 
but they did liut umlirstand the word .S renylh.s aie cas- 
tlts, strung places, and mttaplioiically dej'encia, as lieie. 

i A general Jiyhtiny in the head, iJic.J i\i.r. M. Mason 
chooses to modernize this expression, and lead, at llie head. 



1-10 



THE REN'EGADO. 



[Act IV. 



These tliat with scorn hreak througli thy cobweb 

edicts. 
And I:uioIi at f'w decrees? To tame their lusts 
There's no religious bit ; let her be fair, 
And pleasiiiu' to the eve, though Persian, INIoor, 
Idolatress, Turk, or Christian, you are privileged. 
And freelv niiiy enjoy her. At fhi- instant, 
I know, unjust man, thou hast in ihv powei 
A lovelv Christian virgin ; tliy offence 
Equal, if not transcending mine; whv, tlien, 
(We being both guilty,) dost thou not descend 
From that usurp'd tribunal, and witii me 
Walk hand in himd to death ? 

Asam. Slie raves ; and we 
Lose time to hear her: read the law. 

Don Do, do ; 
I stand resolved to suffer. 

Aga. [ends.] 7/' any virgin of u-hut deo^ree or 
qualitij soever, hnni a natural. 'J'lirk, sIniH he conricted 
of corporal looseness, and incontinence, icitli itnit Chris- 
tian, she is. hii the decree of our great vrophet, Mahomet, 
to lose her he id. 

Asam. Mark that, then tax our justice! 

Aga. Eier proiiiiled. That if she, the snid offender, 
by any reasons, aro^nments, o/ jiersunsion. can trin 
anil prerail ir.ih I he said Christ an "fieuding with her, 
to ultir his rel gion, ami marry her, that then the v in- 
ning oj a soul to the Mahonielaa sect, ^hull acquit 
her jrom all shame, disgrace, and punishment whut- 
soerer. 

Don. I lay hold on that clause, and challenge from 
you 
The privilege of the law. 

Musti. What will you do? 

Dun. Grant me access and means, I'll undertake 
To turn this ( hnstian Tiirk, and marry him : 
This tiiul vcu cannot deny. 

Mustii. base! 
Can fear t3 die make you descend so low 
From your high birth, and hrand tlie Othoman line 
Witli such a niaik of infamy! 

Asum. This is worse 
Than the parting with your honour. Better suffer 
Ten thousand deaths, and without hope to have 
A place in our great prophet's paradise, 
Tlian have an act to aftertimes remember'd. 
So foul as this is. " 

Musta. Cheer your spirits, madam ; 
To die is nothing, 'tis but parting with 
A mountain of vexations. 

Asam. 'Ih'nk of your honour: 
In dying nobly, you make satisfaction 
For your offence, and you shall live a story 
Of bold heioic courage. 

Don. You shall not fool me 
Out of my life : I claim the law, and sue for 
A speedy trial; if I fail, you may 
Determine of me as you please. 

Asam. J3ase woman ! 
But use thy ways, and see thou prosper in them; 
For, if thou fall again into my power, 
riiou shalt in vain, after a thousand tortures, 
Cry out ior death, that death which now thou fliest 

from. 
Unloose the prisoner's chains. Go, lead her on 
To try the magic of her tongue. I follow : 

[Eieunt all hut A^amheg. 
I'm on the rack — descend, my best Paulina. 

[Eiitwith Paulina. 



SCENE III.— ^ Boom in the Prison. 
Enter Franxisco and Gaoler. 

Fran. I come not empty-handed ; I will purchase 
Your favour at what rate vou jdease. 1 here's gold. 

Gaol. 'Tis the best oratory. I will hazard 
A check for your content. Below, there ! 

Vitel. [below ^ Welcome! 
Art thou the happy messenger, that brings mo 
News of my death ? 

Gaol. Your hand. [Plucks up Vitelli 

Fran. Now if you please, 
A little privacy. 

Gaol. You have bought it, sir ; 
Enjoy it freely. [Exit, 

Fran. O, my dearest pupil ! 
Witness these tears of joy, I never saw you, 
'Till now, look lovely ; nor durst I ever glory 
In the mind of any man 1 had built up 
\\ith the hands of virtuous and religious precepts, 
Till this glad minute. Now you have made good 
I\Iv expectation of you. By my order, 
Ad Roman Cresars, that led kings in chains, 
Fast hound to their trium))hani chariots, if 
Compared with that true glory and full lustre 
You now appear in ; all their boasted honours, 
Pu;-chased with blood and wrong, would lose their 
And be no more remember'd ! [names, 

Vitel This applause, 
I Contirm'd in your allowance, joys me more 
Than if a thousand full-cramm'd theatres 
Should clap their eager hands, to witness that 
The scene I act did please, and they admire it. 
But these are, father, but be, innings, not 
'i'lie end:;, of mv high aims. I grant, to have masler'd, 
'J'he rebel appetite of flesh and blood, 
Was far above my strength ; and still owe for it 
To that great power that lent it : but, when I 
Shall inake't ajiparent the grim looks of death 
Affright me not ; and that I can put otF 
1 he fond desire of life (that, like a garment, 
Covers and cloth, s our frailty) hastening to 
My martyrdom, as to a heavenly bampiet. 
To which 1 was a choice invited guest : 
Then you may boldly say, you did not plough 
Or trust the barren and ungratelul sands 
Willi the fruitful grain of your religious counsels. 

Fran. You do instruct your teacher. Let the sun 
Of your clear life, that lends to good men light. 
But set as gloriously as it did rise, 
(Though sometimes clouded,) nil ultra you may 
To human wishes. [write 

Vitel. I have almost gain'd 
The end o' the race, and will not faint or tire now 

Enter Aga and Gaoler, 

Aga. Sir, by your leave, (nay, stay not*,) (to the 
Gaoler who goes out, ) I bring comfort. 
The viceroy, taken wiih the constant bearing 
Of your afflictions ; anil presuming too 
^'ou will not change your temjier, does command 
Your irons should be ta'en off. [Ihey take off his 

irons.^ Now arm yourself 
^Vith your old resolution ; suddenly 
You shall be visited. You must leave the room too. 
And do it without reply. 



-nay, stay no?,] So the oM copy reads. 
Coxeter and M. Masuii, read jifure nor. 



Scene III.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



141 



Fran. There's no contending : 
Be still th vself, my son. [ Exeunt Aga and Francisco. 

Vitel. 'Tis not in man, 
Enter Donusa, Asambeg, Mustapha, and Paulina. 

To cliange or alter me. 

P->' ' "whom do I look on ? 
My brother ? 'tis he !— but no more, my tongue ; 
Thou wilt betray all. lAside. 

Asam. Let us hear this temptress : 
The fellow looks as he would stop liis e:u-s 
Ag-ainst her powerful spells. 

Paul. [Adde.\ He is undone else. 

Vitel. I'll stand the encounter — charge me home. 

Don. I come, sir, [Bows henelf. 

A beggar to you, and doubt not to find 
A good man's charity, which if you deny, 
You are cruel to yourself; a crime a wise man 
(And such I hold you) would not willingly 
Be guilty of; nor let it find less welcome, 
Though I, a creature you contemn, now show you 
The way to certain happiness ; nor tliink it 
Imaginary or fantastical. 
And so not worth the actjuiring, in respect 
The passage to it is nor rough nor thorny ; 
No steep hills in the way which you must climb up, 
No mtin'sters to be conquer'd, no enchantments 
To be dissolved by counter charms, before 
You take possession of it. 

Vitel. \Vhat strong poison 
Is wrapp'd up in these sugar'd pills? 

Don. My suit is, 
That you would quit your shoulders of a bur'.'ien, 
Under whose ponderous weight you wilfully 
Have too long groati'd, to cast those fetters off, 
With which, with your own hands, you chain your 

freedom. 
Forsake a severe, nay, imperious mistress, 
Whose service does exact perpetual cares, 
Watchings, and troubles ; and give entertainment 
To one that courts you, whose least favours are 
Variety and choice of all delights 
Mankind is capable of. 

Viiel. You speak in riddles. 
What burthen, or what mistress, or wliat fetters. 
Are those vou point at ? 

Don. 'J'hose which your religion. 
The mistress you too long have served, compels you* 
To bear with slave-like patience. 

Vitel. HhI 

Paul. How bravely 
That virtuous anger shows ! 

Don. Be wise, and weight 
The prosperous success of things; if blessings 
Are donatives from heaven, (which, you must grant, 
Were blasphemy to question,) and that 
They are call'd down and pour'd on such as are 
I\Iost gracious with the great Disposer of them, 
Look on our flourishing empire, if the splendor, 

* compels you.] Coxeter dropt the last word 

at llie press. Mr. M. Mason omils it of course, though the 
passage is not sense williout it. In the next speech, for 
that virtuous anger, lie ru.ids the, &c. Tliere are otiier 
errors ami omissions, whicli are here rectified and supplied. 

t Don. lie wise, and weigh, &c.] Part of this speech is 
taken, but with great sliill, trom Minucitis Felix; iiidee<l, it 
was Ilie leading argument, and constanlly directed, for the 
uvo first ages of the clinrch, against the (Jhrisli.ms : after llie 
Urlonnalion, the ciiurcli of Rome took it up, and pointed it 
wi h eqii.il prouriety, and, indeed, witli equal success, against 
the I'rotestauts! 



The majesty, and glory of it dim not 

Y'our feeble sight : and then turn back, and see 

The narrow bounds of yours, yet that poor remnant 

Rent in as many factions and opinions 

As you have petty kingdoms; — and then, if 

You are not obstinate against truth and reason. 

You must confess the Deity you worship 

Wants care or power to help you. 

Paul. Hold out now. 
And then thou ;n-t victorious. \_Asid* 

Asam. How he eyes her ! 
■Musta. As if he would look through her. 
Asam. His eyes (lame too. 
As threatening violence. 
Vitel. But that I know 
Tlie devil, thy tutor, fills each part about thee. 
And that I cannot plav tiie exorcist 
'J'o dispossess thee, unless I should tear 
Thy body limb by limb, and throw it to 
'J'he furies, that expect it; I would now 
Pluck out that wicked tongue, that hath blasphemed 
The great Omni])Otencv, at whose nod 
The fabric of the world shakes. Dare you bring 
Y'our juggling prophet in comparison with 
That most inscrutable and infinite Essence, 
'J'hat made this all, and comprehends iiis work ; — 
The place is too profane to mention him 
Whose only name* is sacred. O Donusa I 
How much, in my compassion, I suffer. 
That thati, on whom this most excelling form, 
And faculties of discoursef, beyond a woman. 
Were by his liberal gift conferr'd, shouldst still 
Remain in ignorance of him that ^ave it ! 
I will not foul my mouth to speak the sorceries 
Of your seducer, his base birth, his whoredoms, 
His strange impostures ; nor deliver how. 
He taught a pigeon to feed in his ear; 
Then made his credulous followers believe 
It was an angel, that instructed him 
In the framing of his Alroran — pray you, mark me. 

Asam These words are death, were he in nought 

Vitel. Y'our intent to win me^ [else guilty. 

To be of your belief, proceeded from 
Y'our fear to die. Can there be strength in that 
Religion, that suffers us to tremble 
At that which every day, nay hour, we haste to ? 

Don. TIms is unanswerable, and there's something 
I err in my opinion. • [tells me 

Vitel. Cherish it, 
It is a heavenly prompter; entertain 
This holy motion, and wear on your forehead 
The sacred badge he arms his servants withj ; 

* The place is too profane tu mention him 

Whose only name is aacied] i. e. whose "name is the 
sole or only name tlial is satied : a mode of expression fre- 
qnenily adopted by our ohi v\rners. 

i And faculties 0/ di>co->rse,l i. e. of reason. It is to 
be regrette<l, that so just ami noble a speech as this as- 
suredly is, sliould be debased by the instition of tlie con- 
temptible fable with whicl. /. concludes: that fable, how- 
ever, was gravely delivereil by conteii porary liisloriins 
and divines: Massinger, llnreloie, though he niaj piihipe 
be arraigned for want of laftc, cannol faiily be cliiiX'd 
with over-ciednlity. 

t Vitil. Your intent to win me.'] A hemistich prectiluig 
this, is lost; it was piobably an ejaciilatory rmi.iik In. in 
Paulina. 

5 and wear on yovr forehead 

The sacred badge he arins his Sf7-vu7tts with .] I Ins is a 
pcriphra.-is of baptism, laUiiliir to the Calholic wriieis. It 
may neither be niiaiiusinj, nor iii.in>tructive, for Ilic ri a<ler 
to c<.mpaie this scene with ibc ihird acl of 'Ihe \ irgin 
Martyr: he will find many passages strkiiigly biimlai 



142 



THE RENEGADO. 



[ActV. 



Ycu shall, like me, with scorn look down upon 

All engines tyranny can advance to batter 

Your constant resolution. Then you shall 

Look truly fair, when your mind's pureness answers 

Your outwiird beauties. 

D<vi. I came here to take you, 
But 1 perceive a yielding in myself 
To be your prisoner. 

Vitel. 'Tis an overthrow, 
That will outshine all victories. O Donusa, 
Die in my faith, like me; and 'tis a marriage 
At which celestial angels shall be waiters, 
And such as have been sainted welcome us. 
Are vou confirm 'd? 

Don. I would be : but the means 



That may assure me? 

Vitel. Heaven is merciful. 
And will not suffer you to want a man 
To do that sacred office, build upon it. 

Dun. Then thus I spit at Mahomet. 

Asam. Stop her mouth : 
In death to turn apostata ! I'll not hear 
One syllable from any ; — wretched creature ! 
\\ ith the next rising sun prepare to die. 
Yet, Christian, in reward of thy brave courao-e. 
Be thy faith right or wrong, receive this favour ; 
In person I'll attend thee to thy death : 
And boldly challenge all that I can give, 
But what's not in my grant, which is — to live. 

[Exeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — A Room in the Prison. 
Enter A'iteixi and FnANCisco. 

Fran. You are wondrous* brave and jocund. 

Vitel. Welcome, father. 
Should I spare cost, or not wear cheerful looks, 
Upon my wedding day, it were ominous. 
And shovv'd I did repent it; which I dare not, 
It being a marriage, howsoever sad 
In the first ceremonies that confirm it, 
That will for ever arm me against fears, 
Repentance, doubts, or jealousies, and bring 
Perpetual comforts, peace of mind, and quiet 
To the g'lad couple. 

Fran. I well understand you ; 
And my full joy to see you so resolved 
Weak words cannot exjji-ess. What is the hour 
Design'd for this solemnity? 

Vitel. 1 he sixth : 
Something before the setting of the sun, 
We take our last leave of his fiiding liglit, 
And with our soul's eyes seek for beams eternal. 
Yet there's one scruple with which I am much 
Perplex'd and troubled, which 1 know you can 
Resolve me of. 
. Fran. Whatis't? 

Vitel. This, sir; my bride, 
Whom I first courted, and then won, not with 
Loose lays, poor flatteries, aj)ish compliments. 
But sacred and religious zeal, yet wants 
The holy badge that should proclaim her fit 
For these celestial nuptials : willing she is, 
I know, to wear it as the clmicest jewel 
On her fair forehead; but to you, that well 
Could do that work of grace, 1 know tlie viceroy 
Will never grant access. Now, in a case 
Of this necessity, 1 would gliidly Larn. 
Whether, in me, a laymnn. without orders, 
It mav not be religions and lawful, 
As we go to our deaths, to do that office? 

Fran. A question in itself with much ease an- 
Midwives, upon necessity, perform it ; [swered: 



• FrHn. You are wondrnus brave and jocund.] i. e. as ha 
keen alitady obsei veJ, liclily, spleiidiUly aiipaielled. 



And knights that, in the Holy Land, fought for 
The freedom of Jerusalem, when full [mets 

Of sweat and enemies" blood, have made their hel- 
The fount, out of which with their holy hands 
Ihey drew that heavenly liquor: 'twas approv'd then 
By the holy church, nor must 1 think it now, 
In you, a work less pious. 

Vitel. You confirm me ; 
I will find a way to do it. In the mean time, 
Your holy vows assist me! 

Fran, 'ihey shall ever 
Be present with you. 

Vitel. You shall see me act 
This last scene to the life. 

I'ran. And though now fall, 
Rise a hless'd inartvr. 

Vitel. 'that's my end, my all. [Fxeunt 

SCENE 11.—^ Street. 

Enter Grijialdi, Master, Boatswain, and Sailors. 

Bnutsw. Sir, if you slip this opportunity, 
Never expect tlie like. 

Mast, Will) as much ease now 
We may steal the shij) out of the harbour, captain, 
As ever gallants in a wanton bravery- 
Have set upon a drnidcen constable. 
And bore liim from a sleepy rug-gown'd watch : 

I Be therefore wise. 

Grim. I must be honest tor>. 

j And you shall wear that shape, you shall observe me, 

I If that you ])iirpose to continue mine. 

j Think you ingratitude can be the parent 

J 'I'o our unfeign'd repentance? Do 1 owe 
A peace within here, kingdoms could not jmrchase, 
To my religious creditor, to leave him 
Open to danger, the great benefit 
Never remeinber'd ! no; ihough in her bottom 

j We could stow up the tribute of the '1 urk ; 

I Nay, grant the pas.sage safe too ; I will never 

I Consent to v\eigh an anchor up, till he, 

i 1'liat only must, commands it. 

i Boaisw. This religion 

j Will keep us slave.s and beggars. 
Mast. The fiend prompts me 

; 



Scene III.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



1-Vt 



To clianje my copy : pliio:u» ui)on't! we iire seamen ; 
VVbiit haVe we to ilo witli't, but i'or a snatch or so, 
At die end ot a lonu- Lent* ? 

Enter FRA^•c r.co. 

Bontsto. I\Ium ; see \vlio is here. 

Grim. My father ! 

Fniii. My good convert. I am full 
Of serious business wliich denies me leave 
To hold lont;- conference with you : only thus much 
Briefly receive ; a day or two, at the most, 
Shall make me fit to take my leave of Tunis, 
Or give me lost for ever. 

Grim. Days nor years. 
Provided that my stay may do you service, 
But to me shall be minutes. 

Frun. I much thank you : 
In this small scroll you may in private read 
What my intents are ; and, as tliey grow ripe, 
I will instruct you further : in the mean time 
Borrow your late distracted looks and gesture ; 
The more dejected you apjiear, the less 
The viceroy must suspect jou. 

Grim. 1 am nothine;. 
But what you please to have me be. 

Fran. Jb'arevvell, sir. 
Be cheerful, master, something we will do. 
That shall reward itself in the performance; 
And that's true prize indeed. 

Musi. I am obedient. 

Boulsw. And 1 : there's no contending. 

[ Exeunt Grim. Blast. Bmtsw. and Sailors. 

Fran. Peace to you all ! 
Prosper, tliou great E.\istence, my endeavours. 
As they religiously are undertaken, 
And distant equally from servile gain, 

Enter Paulina, CAnAziE, and JManto. 
Or glorious ostentation ! — lam heard 
In this blest opportunity, which in vain 
I long have waited for. I must show myself. 
O, she lias found me ! now if she prove right. 
All hope will not forsake us. 

Paul. Further off"; 
And in that distance know your duties too. 
You were bestow'd on me as slaves to serve me, 
And not as sjiies to jny into my actions, 
And after, to betray me. You shall find 
If any look of mine be unobserved, 
I am not ignorant of a mistress' power. 
And from whom I receive it. 

Cur. Note this, Manto, 
The pride and scorn with which she entertains us, 
Now we are made her's by the viceroy's gilt! 
Our sweet condition'd princess, fair IJonusa, 
Rest in her death wait on her ! never used us 
With such contempt. I would he had sent me 
To the gallies or the gallows, when he gave me 
To this proud little devil. 

Maiit. I expect 
All tyrannous usage, but I must be patient ; 
And though, ten times a day, she tears these locks, 
Or makes this face her footstool, 'tis bu: justice. 

Paul. ''Jis a true story of my fortunes, father. 
My chastity preserved by miracle, 

• At /Ac end of a long Lent?| Massinger alludes to the 
c.usloiii wliicli all good Catholics had (and, indeed, siill 
have) of cuntissiiii; llieiiiselvcs at Easter. Good Friday or 
Easter Sunday is almost the only day on which llie l''ienili 
and Italian sailors ever think of repairing to a confessional. 



Or your devotions for me ; and, believe it, 

What outward pride soe'er 1 counterfeit. 

Or slate, to these appointed to attend me, 

I am not in my dis})osition alter'd, 

But still your humble dauoliter, and share with you. 

In my pocir brother's sufferings ; — all hell's torments 

Revenge it on accurs'd Grimaldi's ^oul, 

'J hat, in his rape of me, gave a beginning 

To all the miseries that since have follow'd ! 

Fran. Be charitable, and forgive him, gentle 
daughter. 
He's a changed man, and may redeem his fault 
In his fair lite hereafter, ^'ou must bear too 
Your forced captivity, for 'tis no better, 
Though you wear golden fetters, and of him, 
Whom death afl'iights not, learn to hold out nobly. 

Paul. You are still the same good counsellor, 

Fran. And who knows, 
("Since what above is purposed, is inscrutable,) 
But that the viceroy's extreme dotage on you 
May be the parent of a happier birth 
Than yet our hopes dare fashion. Longer conference 
May prove unsafe for you and me, however 
(Perhaps for trial) he allows you freedom. 

[Delivers, a paper. 
From this learn therefore what you must attempt. 
Though with the hazard of yourself: heaven guard 

you. 
And give Vitelli patience! then I doubt not 
But he will have a glorious day, since some 
Hold truly, such as sufi'er, overcome. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— ^ Hall in Asambeg's Pahce. 

Enter Asambeg, Musiapha, Aga, and Cajuaga. 

Asam. What we commanded, see perforni'd ; and 
In all things to be punctual. [fail not 

Aga. We shall, sir. [Exeunt Aga and Ciiy.iuga. 

Musta. "lis strange, that you should use such cir- 
cumstance 
To a delintiuent of so mean condition. 

Asam. Had he appear'd in a more sordid shape 
Than disgijised greatness ever deign 'd to mask in, 
Tlie gallant bearing of his present fortune 
Aloud proclaims him noble. 

Musta. if you doubt him 
To be a man built up for great employments. 
And as a cunning spy, sent to explore 
The city's strength, or weakness, you by torti 
JMay force him to discover it. 

Asam. That were base ; 
Nor dare 1 do such injury to virtue 
And bold assured courage ; neither can I 
Be won to think, but if 1 should attempt it, 
I shoot against the moon. He that hath stood 
The roughest battery, that captivity 
Could ever bring to shake a constant temper ; 
Despised the fawnings of a future greatness. 
By beauty, in her full perfection, tender'd ; 
That hears of death as of a quiet slumber. 
And from the surplusage of his own firmness. 
Can S])are enough of fortitude, to assure 
A feeble woman ; will not*, Mustapha, 



*A feeble woman; will not, Mustapha,] For not, the 
old copy reads now. Instead of correcting this palpable 
error of the pre.-s, the modern editors add to it a word of 
no authority, and tluis produce a verse of surprising har- 
mony : 

A feeble woman ; will now, Mustapha, never. 



144 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Act V 



Be alter'a in his soul for any torments 
IVe can afflict his body with. 

Musta. Do your pleasure : 
;onlv offtr'd you a i'riend's advice, 
16ut without oall or envy to the man 
That is to sufi'er. But vvliat do you determine 
r>f poor Grimaldi? the disgrace call'd on liim 
X near, has run him mad. 

Asam. There weigh the difference 
In the true temper of their minds. The one, 
A pirate, sold to mischiefs, rapes, and all 
That make a slave relentless and obdurate, 
Yet, of liimself wanting' the inward strengths 
That should defend him, sinks beneath compassion 
Or pity of a man : whereas this merchant, 
Acqiiainted only with a civil* life ; 
Arm'd in himself, intrench'd and fortified 
With his own virtue, valuing life and death 
At the s;ime price, poorly does not invite 
A favour, but commands us do him right ; 
Which unto him, and lier we both once honour'd, 
As a just debt I gladly pay ; — they enter. 
Kow sit we equal hearers. 

A dienilful miiiic. Enter at one door, the Aga, 
Janizaries, ViTEi.Li, FinNCisco, ai/rf Gazkt; at the 
other, DoNUSA, Paulina, Carazie, and Manto. 

Musta. I shall hear 
And see, sir, without passion ; my wrongs arm me. 

Viiel. A joyful prejiaration ! To whose bounty 
Owe we our thanks for gracing thus our hymen ? 
The notes, though dreadful to the ear, sound here 
As our ejuihalamium were sung 
By a celestial choir, and a full chorus 
Assured us future happiness. These that lead me 
Gaze not with wanton eyes upon my bride, 
Nor for iheir service are repaid by me 
With jealousies or fears ; nor do they envy 
Mv passage to those pleasures from wiiich death 
Cannot deter me. Great sir, pardon me : 
Imagiuation of the jovs I haste to 
Made me forget my duty ; but the form 
And ceremony past, 1 will attend you. 
And with our constant resolution feast you , 
Not with coarse cates. forgot as sodn as tasted, 
But such as shall, while you have memory. 
Be pleasing to the palate. 



* Acquainted only with a c'wW life;'* Civil, in ArHS.<ini;fi- 
as will as ill his ciiiitcnipurarits, allnilcs to llie pulilital re 
gulatioiis, ciisumis, and li.ibii.-i, of the cliy, »^ (li^lin!;lIi^ht<1 
from the ((niri ; someumis, iiidied, it takes a wjilir lanuc, 
and ciinipiisi'S a dei;ret i>f oivilizitic ii vr iiidial impiove- 
meiit, as opposed lo a slate of bHibansiii, or pine iiatnie. 

Wlieiever civil oecius in Shakspeare, S leveiis inter- 
prets, or rather misinterprets, it by" !;rave, .'oliiiiii,(lei<'nt," 
&c. That it Siinieliines bears iliose nieaniiius cannot be de- 
nied, but then it is aUvass in n fi renee to citizenship, or to 
that Mate oi oiilerly society uhicli is swayed by wise and 
wellbahnued insiiuiiions: in its abstract -serse it would fie- 
qneiiily have no mcaninsj;, or, at least none that was worthy 
of Shakspeare ; e. g 

" Yon, lord archbi-hop, — 
Whose see is by a civil peace niaintain'd " 

Second /'art of llmry IV. 
That is, (says Stecvens,) a " gxA\c and decern" peace. 
What is that I. 
Again : 

" Why ftlionld this desert silent be 1 

For It is unpeopled ; No: 
Tonsjnes I'll ban); on everv tree, 

'I liii shall fit)!/' saunas show." As ynti. Like It. 

"That is, urave an I solemn savin s !" No, siiiily; sayings 
collected frjiu an iniercoiiise wnli civil liie. 



Fran. Be not lost 
In what you purpose. [Exil. 

Gtiz. Call vou this a marriage! 
It differs little from hangin«: ; J cry at it. 

Vitel. See, where my bride ajipi ars ! in what full 
As if the virgins that bear up her train [lustre ' 

Had long contended to receive an honour 
Above their births, in doing her this service. 
Nor comes she fearful to meet those delights, 
Wliich, once past o'er, immortal pleasures follow 
I neetl not, therefore, comfort or encourage 
iler forward steps ; and 1 should offer wrong 
'i'o her mind's fortitude, should I but ask 
How she can brook the rough high-going- sea, 
Over whose foamy back our ship, well rigg'd 
With hope and strong assurance, must transport u» 
Nor will I tell her, when we reach the haven, 
\Vhich tempests shall not hinder, what loud welcome 
Shall entertain us ; nor cummend the place, 
To tell whose least perfection would strike dumb 
The elo(]uence of all boasted in story, 
Tiiough joiii'd together. 

Don. 'lis enough, my dearest, 
I dare not doubt you ; as your humble shadow. 
Lead where you please, I follow. 

Vitel. One suit, sir. 
And willingly 1 cease to be a beggar ; 
i And tlwt you may with more security hear it, 
) Know 'tis not life III ask, nor to defer 
I Our deaths, but a few minutes. 
Asam. Speak ; 'tis grawted. 
Vitel We being now to take our latest leave. 
And grown of one belief, 1 do desire 
I may have your allowance to jjerform it. 
But in the fashion vi-hich we Christians use 
Upon the like occasions. 
Asam. 'Tis allow'd of 

Vitel. INIy service: haste, Gazet, to the next sprin^^ 
And bring me of it. 

Gaz. Would I could as well 
Fetch you a pardon ; I would not run but Hy, 
And be here in a moment. [£xit 

Musta. \Miat's the mystery 
Of tins'! discover it. 

Vitel. CJreat sir. Til tell you. 
Each country hath its own peculiar rites: 
Some, when they are to die, drink store of wine, 
Wliich, pour'd in lilierallv, does oft beget 
A bastartl valour, with which armVl, they bear 
'J'he not-to-be declined charge of death 
With less fear and astonishment: others take 
Drugs to prncure a heavv sleep, that so 
Tiiev may insensibly receive the means 
That casts them in an everlasting slumber ; 
Others 

lie-enter Gazet, uilh water 

O welcome ! 

Asam. Now the use of yours ? 

Vitel. The clearness of this is a perfect sign 
Of innocence : and as this washes off 
Stains and pollutions from the things we wear; 
Thrown thus upon the forehead, it hath power 
To purge those spots that cleave upon* the mind. 
If thankfully received. [llirous it on her face. 



* that rlrave upon the mind.] So the old copy: 

the m.>drrii tdilor-, willi as litile jiulyinenl as necessity, 
le.ld, chavi' vnto ihe mind. 



ScEs* v.] 



THE REXEGADO. 



149 



Asam. 'fis n strange custom. 

Vilel Mow do vou entertain it, my Donusa ? 
Feel you no alteration, no new motives, 
No unexpec'ed aids, that may confirm you 
In that to which you were inclin'd before? 

Don. I a-n another woman ; — till this minute 
I never lived, nor durst think how to die. 
How lon^;- have 1 been blind ! yet on the sudden, 
By this lilest means, I feel the films of err.r 
Ta'en from my soul's eyes. O divine physician ! 
That hast bestow'd a si'i^ht on me, which death, 
Though ready to embrace me in liis arms, 
Cannot take from me : let me kiss the hand 
That did this miracle, and seal my thanks 
Upon those lips from whence these sweet words 

vanish'd. 
That freed me from the cruellest of prisons. 
Blind iunorance and misbelief. False prophet ! 
Impostor IMahomet! 

Aso'ii. I'll hear no more, 
You do abuse my favours ; sever them : 
Wretch, if thou hadst another life to lose* 
This blasphemy deserved it , — instantly 
Carry them to their deaths. 

Vitel. We part now, blest one. 
To meet hereafter in a kingdom, where 
Hell's malice shall not reach us. 

PauU Ha! ha! ha! 

Asam, What means my mistress? 

Paul. Who can hold her spleen. 
When such ridiculous follies are presented, 
The scene, too, made religion? O, my lord. 
How from one cause two contrary eftects 
Spring up upon the sudden ! 

Asam. This is strange. 

Paul. That which hath fool'd her in her death, 
wins me. 
That hitherto have barr'd myself from pleasure, 
To live in all delight. 

Asam. 'I'here's music in this. 

Paul, I now will run as fiercely to your arms 
As ever longing woman, did, born high 
On the swift wings of appetite. 

Vitel. O devil ! 

Paul. Nay, more; for there shall be no odds be- 
twixt us, 
I will turn I'urk*. 

Gaz. Most of your tribe do so. 
When they begin in whore. [^Aside. 

Asam. You are serious, lady? 

Paul, Serious ! — but satisfy me in a suit 
That to the world may witness that I have 
Some power upon you, and to-morrow challenge 
Whatever's in my gift ; for I will be 
At your di-posef. 

Gaz. That's ever the subscription 
I'o a damn'd wliore's false epistle. [Aside. 

Asam, Ask this hand. 



• / will turn Turk. 

Oaz. Most oft/our tribe, do so, 

JVhett they lieyin in whore.] To turn Turk, vpas a figu- 
rative e.\|jres>ioii tor a clmiige of condiiion, or opinioD. It 
sliouM be oljsiived, lliat Gazct wantonly peiverts the 
phrase, which is used in its literal acceptation by Paulina. 

t y will be 

At your <li-puse.J Mr. M. Mason, for no other reason, 
■^ appe.ns, than tint of spoiling tlie metre, alters this to 

/ will be 

At your disposal ! 



Or, if thou wilt, the heads of these. I am rapt 
Bevond myself with joy. Speak, speak, what is it? 

Paul. But twelve short hours reprieve for this 
biise couple. 

Asam. The reason, since you hate them 1 

Paul. That I may 
Have time to triumph o'er this wretched woman. 
I'll be myself her guardian ; I will feast. 
Adorned in her choice and richest jewels : 
Commit him to what guards you please. Grant thisj 
I am no more mine own, but yours. 

Asam. Enjoy it; 
Repine at it who dares : bear him safe off 
To the black tower, but give him all things useful : 
The contrary was not in your request? 

Paul. [ do contemn him. 

Don, Peace in death denied me ! 

Paul. 'I'hou shalt not go in liberty to thy grave; 
For one night a sultana is my slave. 

Mustii. A terrible little tyranness. 

Asiim. No more; 
Her will shall be a law. Till now ne'er happy ! 

[Exeun 



SCENE IV,— A Street. 

Enter Francisco, Grimaldi, Master, Boatswain, 
and Sailors. 

Grim. Sir, all tilings are in readiness; the Turks, 
That seized u|)on my ship, stovv'd under hatches ; 
IMy men resolved and cheerful. Use but means 
To get out of the ports, we will be ready 
To bring you aboard, and then ;^heaven be bu'. 
This for the viceroy's fleet! [pleased,^ 

Fran, Discharge your parts. 
In mine I'll not be wanting : Fear not, master. 
Something will come along to fraught your bark. 
That you wid have just cause to say you never 
Made such a voyage. 

Mast, We will stand the liazard. 

Fran. VV^iat's the best hour? 

Bo Isw. After the second watch. 

Fran. Enough ; each to his charge. 

Grim, We will be careful. [Exeuni. 



SCENE, v.— ^ Room in Asambeg's Palace. 
Enter Paulina, Donusa, Carazie, and Mantc. 

Paul. Sit, madam, it is fit that I attend you; 
And pardon, I beseech you, my rude language, 
To which the sooner you will be invited, 
When you shall understand, no way was left ma 
To free you from a present execution. 
But by my personating that which never 
My nature was acquainted with. 

Don, 1 believe you. 

Paul. You will, when you shall understand I may 
Receive the honour to be known unto you 
; By a nearer name : — and, not to rack you furtbaf. , 
! 'J'iie man you please to favour is my brother ; 
I No merchant, madam, but a gentleman 
Of the best rank in Venice. 

Don. 1 rejoice in't ; 
But what's this to his freedom ? for myself. 
Were he well ofl", I were secure. 

Paul, I have 



146 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Act V 



A present means, not plotted b)' myself, 
But a religious man, mv confessor. 
That niav preserve all, if we- had a servant 
Whose faiti) we might rely on. 

Don. She, that's now 
Your slave, was once mine ; had I twenty lives, 
I durst commit ihem to her trust. 

Miint. O madam ! 
I liave been false, — foroive me : I'll redeem it 
By any thing, l)owever desperate, 
You jilease to impose upon me. 

PiiuL 'iroth these tears, 
I think, cannot be counterfeit ; I believe her, 
And, if you jjlease, will try her. 

])oii. At your peril ; 
'i'here is no further danger can look towards me. 

Piml. This only tlien — canst thou use means to 
carry 
This bake-meat to Vitelli. 

M(t)it. U itli mucli ease ; 
1 am familiar with the guard; beside, 
It being known it was I that betray 'd him*, 
My entrance hardly will of tln-m be C|uestion'd. 

Piad. About it then. Say that 'twas sent to him 
From his I lonusa ; bid him search the midst of it, 
He tliere shall find a cordial. 

Mimt. What I do 
Shall speak my care and faith. [Exit. 

Vt»i. Good fortune with thee ! 

Paul. \'ou cannot eat ? 

Von. I'he time we thus abuse 
We might employ much better 

Paid. I am glad 
To hear this from you. As for you, Carazi^, 
If our intents do ].ros|ier, make choice, whether 
You'll steal away with your two mistresses, 
Or lake your fortune. 

Cor. I'll be gelded twice first ; 
Hang him that stays behind, 

Piiiil. 1 wait you, madam. 
Were but my brother oft", bv the command 
Of the (lotmg- viceroy tiiere's no guard dare stay rae -, 
And I will safely bring you to the place, 
Where we must expect I iin. 

Don. Heaven be gracious 'o us ! [Exeunt. 



Enter Manto with the baked meat. 



SCENE VI.— ^ Poom ill the Black Tower. 
Enter Vitelli, Aga, and Guard. 

Vi'el. Paulina to fall off thus ! 'tis to me 
More terrible than death, and, like an earthquake, 
Totters this walking building, such I am ; 
And in my sudden ruin would prevenc, 
By thoaking up at once my vitr.l spirits. 
Tins pompous preparation for my death, 
But 1 am lostf ; that good man, good Francisco, 
Deliver'd me a paper, which till now 
I wanted leisure to peruse. [Reads thefaper. 

Aga. This Christian 
Fears not, it seems, the ne&r approaching sun. 
Whose second rise he never n._a» salute. 



» It beiny Itnou-n it was I that bi-tray'd liim,] Bcsi'les ma- 
king several petty alterations in tliis line, Coxter siibjoinecl 
him to It, which is not fonnd in ihe old c!>py. This is re- 
liiiiied,HS either that or you seems necessary lo complete the 
sense: his imaginary improvements I have removed. 

♦ Sut I am lost ;j i. e. 1 lorget myself. 



1 Guard. Who's that? 

2 Guard. Stand. 
Aga. Manto ! 

Mant. Here's the viceroy's ring 
Gives warrant to my entrance; yet you may 
?ar:ake of any thing I shall deliver. 
'1 is but a pret-ent to a dying man, 
Sent from the princess that must suffer with him, 

Aga. Use your own freedom. 

Mant. I would not disturb 
This his last contemplation. 

Vliel. O, 'tis well ! 
He has restored all, and I at peace again 
With my Paulina. 

Miint. Sir, tile sad Donusa, 
vrrieved for your sufferings more than for her own, 
Knowing the long and tedious pilgrimage 
Yoti are to take, jiresents you with this cordial, 
VV.'ii(.h privately she wishes you should taste of; 
A.id sft-irch the middle part, where you shall find 
Somevhirg that hath tiie oj)eration to 
Make desto look lovely. 

Vitei. I wi'l not dispute 
\Vhat she co<nr>ands, but serve it. [Exit. 

Aga. Pru'hee, Manto, 
How liath the ui.'biruiKite princess spent this night. 
Under her prou^' nc>w .•nistress ? 

Mant. With such p?tifc;ice 
As ito'erconies the oiher's insolence. 
Nay, trium])lis o'er her pride. My much haste now 
Commands me heix-e ; but, the sad tragedy past,, 
I'll give you satisfaction to the full 
Of all hath pass'd, and a true characuT 
Of the proud Christian's nature. [Exit. 

Aga. Break the watch up ; 
\Vliat shoulil we fear i'the midst of pur* own 

strengths? 
'Tis but the b&sha's jealousy. Farewell, soldiers. 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE ^'11. — All upper Boom in tii^ same. 
Enter Vitelli vilh the baked meat. 

Vite^. Thbre's something more in this than means 
to cloy 

A hungry appi'tife. which I must discover. 

She will'd me search the iuidst : thus, thus I pierce it. 

— Ha! what is this? a scroll bound up in pack- 
thread ! 

What may the mystery be t [Reads. 

Son, let down this packthread at the uesi xcindow oj 
the castle. Bi/ it von shall, draw up a ladder of rop^s^ 
by which you maij descend ;your dearjtst Donusa with the 
rest if your J riends below attend you. Heaven pj-cspw- 



you: 



FnANXisco. 



O best of men ! he that gives up himself 

To a true religious friend, leans not upon 

A fidse deceiving reed, but boldly builds 

Upon a rock : wliich now with joy I find 

In reverend Francisco, whose good vows, 

Labours, and watchings, in my hoped-for freedom, 

Appear a pious miracle. I come. 



• If hat should we fear in the midst of our ouiti Btreogtht I 
&c.] i. e. our own fortresses. 



CENE VIII.] 



THE RENEGADO. 



147 



I come with confidence ; thouo;h the descent 
Were steep as hell, I know I cannot slide, 
Being caird down by such a faithful guide. 



[Exit. 



SCENE VIII.— ^ Room tn Asamdeg's Palace. 
Enier Asambeg, Mustapiia, unrf Janizaries. 

Asam. Excuse me, Mustapha, though this night 
to me 
Appear as tedious as that treble one 
Was to the world wlien Jove on fair Alcmena 
Begot Alcides. Were you to encounter 
Those ravishing pleasures, which the slow-paced 

hours 
(To rae they are such) bar me from, you would. 
With your'continued wishes, strive to imp* 
New feathers to the broken wings of time, 
And chide the amorous sun, for loo long dalliance 
In Thetis' watery bosom. 

Miistii. You are too violent 
In your desires, of which you are yet uncertain ; 
Having no more assurance to enjoy them, 
Than a weak woman's promise, on which wise men 
Faintly rely. 

Asam. Tush ! she is made of truth ; 
And what she says she will do, holds as firm 
As laws in brass, that know no change : [Tl:e cham- 
ber shot ojf}.] What's this? 
Some new prize brought in, sure — 

Enter Ac a. 

Why are thy looks 
So gliastly ? Villain, speak ! 

A^a. Great sir, hear me. 
Then after kill me ; — we are all betray'd. 
The false Grimaldi, sunk in your disgrace, 
With his confederates, has seized his ship. 
And those that guarded it stow'd under hatches. 
With him the condemn'd princess, and the merchant, 
That, with a ladder made of ropes, descended 
From the black tower, in which he was enclosed ; 
And your fair mistress 

Asam. Ha! 



to imp 



New feathers to the broken winys of time,] To imp, says 
the coiiiplli'i' of the Faulcorwr'.i Dictionary, " is to insen a 
fealliur iiu.> the wing of a hawk, i.r other bird, in the place 
of one (hat is brolien." To this practice our old writrrs, 
'who seem toliave been, in the language of the present day, 
keen spurt.Mnen, perpetually allude. There is a passage in 
Tomkis's Albumaza, which would be admired even in the 
noblest scenes of Shakspeare : 

" How slow the day slides on ! when we desire 

Time's haste, he seems to lose a match with lobsters; 

And wheti we wish him slay, lie impt bis wings 

Willi feathers plumed with thought!" 
t The chamber shot off.] Such is the marginal direction 
in the old copy. The modern editors, in kindness to their 
readers' ij^mnance, have considerately expunged the word 
chamber, and inserted piece (it should have ben preaf ynn) 
in its place. Yet a lilile while, and we shall happily purjje 
our lani^uai^e of every unfashionable expression. Chambers 
occur ciuitiiiuallv in our ohi writers ; ihey are. as Mr. M alone 
kays, small pieces of ordnance, such as are still fired in the 
Park on rej. .icing days. From the marginal dirtction, it 
seems as if the theatres, in onr author's time, were provided 
with one or more of these pieces : and imleed, it appears 
from .lonsoii's h'xecration upon. fV(/<,-a«, that the Globe play- 
house was set on lire by the dischaiise of this holiday arid- 
leiy: ^ 

" the Globe, the glory of the Bank, 

I s.iw will-. ;-.vo poor chambers t.iken in. 

And VAi.tn, ere thought could urge, this might have been." 



Aga. With all their train, 
And choicest jewels, are gone safe aboard : 
'J'heir sails spread forth, and with a fore-right gale* 
Leaving our coast, in scorn of all pursuit. 
As a farewell they shew'd a broadside to usf. 

Asam. No more. 

Mxista. Now note your confidence! 

Asam. No more. 
O my credulity I I am too full 
Of grief and rage to speak. Dull, heavy fool ! 
Worthy of all the tortures that the frown 
Of thy incensed master j^i throw on thee, 
Without one man's con<i^assion ! I will hide 
This head among the deserts, or some cave 
Fill'd witii my sliame and me ; where I alone 
May die without a partner in my moan. [Exeunt\. 



* and with a fore-right gale.] The old copy 

h^s a fore (/ale. Mr. M. Mason saw the measure was de- 
fective, and proposed to read a right fore-yale. I prefer 
the lection which 1 have inserted in the le.vt, as it is a 
coinnion expression, and has indeed been already used by 
the poet himself. Thus, in the Bondman: 

sink him with 



A fore-riyht yale of liberty." 

+ As a farewell they shew'd a broadside to us.] I take 
this opportunity of observing, thai our old dramatic writers 
were extremely well a.'quainted with nautical terms; this 
was owini; to tne avidity with which voyages were read by 
all descriptions of people. Great eltects were then produced 
by small means, and created a won<lerful interest in the 
public mind: the wiiters, too, of these popular works entered 
into them wjih li.eir whole soul, and gave a fullness and pre- 
cision to their narratives which are not always to be found 
in those of the present day. I know not how 1 have been 
drawn on so far ; but i meant to say that from some cause 
or other (perhaps from what I last hinted at) m iritiine 
language is not so generally understood iiosv -s it was two 
ccntmii s a^o There is scarcely a nautical expression in 
Shakspeare which is not illustraded inio obscurity, or mis- 
interpreted. With respect to the expression whiidi gave lise 
to these remaiks, 1 shall only observe, (not lo pii/.zle the 
reader with lerins which he would perha|is ill uiidersiand,) 
that to shew a broadside to an enemy, argues the highest 
degree of confi lence and security; and is here addiice'l with 
great propriiiy to prove that the fugitives thought them- 
selves out of the danger of pursuit. 

+ The quantity of action in this play is the very cause of 
the lorced conlrivam es which are to be foiuxl in it: yet, 
however extravagant in its plan, or improbable in iis con- 
duct, it contains many beautiful sentiments and interesting 
situations. 'J'lieie was no such call It some of the licen- 
tiousness which stains it. However, its conclusion is favour- 
able to the cait-e of virtue. The final inHtieiice of truih is 
seen in the conversion of Donusa ; and the force of con- 
science in the reclaiming of Vitelli and the Kenegado. 
Massinger seems lo have pleased himself with the di.scriini- 
nalion of their repentance. Act V. sc. iii.; and it may be 
remarked in general, that when his plots are unhappy, or 
his action confused, he makes amends by the superior care 
bestowed on certain of his characters. 

The Renegado is described as impious, atheistical, sacri- 
legious, v^idictive, licentious, and cruel, .iccordingly, his 
remorse is of a violent nature. He is abject and forlorn, 
despairs of the power of heaven itself to save him, and 
appears frantic with imaginations of honor. He is super- 
siilioiis too, (a true mark of nature thus agitated,; and will 
only be comforted if he can atone to the holy man in per- 
S(m whose arlministration of ihe sacred rites he had profaned. 
And when this is dexterously contrived by Francisco, his 
protestations of penance are as tumultuonsly uttered as they 
are gloomily coiueived. Inflictions the most severe shall be 
his pleasures; the s ripes of iron whips shall be but gentle 
touches of a saving hand; and his whole life sh.dl be one 
continued atoncmeiit to his native faith, which he had re- 
nounced 

The recovery of the tender bnt misguided Vitelli is of a 
dilfeieiil kind At first he is pleased with the success of his 
pursuit, t.dks linhlly of virtue, and is resolved to proceed 
Willi his iiidiilieiice Hut he is soon checked by the appear- 
ance of his co.iiessoi, ai-;-iio« ledges his error, earmslly asks 
forgivenes-, avows tne struggle between his passions and his 



148 



THE RENEGADO. 



[Acr V 



doty, but pjomises sulmiission, anfi keeps his promise. In 
his conference with Donusa (an imiiressive scene) he shews 
himself superior U> the enticenienis which yet he deeply 
feels ; and the satisfaction of conscience, now secure from 
a relapse, gives him constancy in prison, and amid the 
prospect of death. He rises to a sacred vehemence in 
favour of his religion, and converts Donusa herself. This 
incident, though but slightly managed, reminds us of The 
Virgin-Martyr, and in both plays we may observe a similar 
use of religious terms and ecclesiastical questions, which, 
vnith the language and events of the Roman Martyrologies, 
item to be familiar to Massinger. 

The Jesuit is represented in a manner highly flattering to 
hit oitler. Pious, sagacious, charitable, disinterested, tuid 



without ostentation, he watches over the welfare -A his 
charge, and directs all the proceedings of the f.tsired con- 
clusion. 

'J'he Turkish characters are not ill-drawn. The women 
are wanton, capricious, and stick at nothing tn rtccompli^h 
their ends. The men are shrewd and inltit«ltd, lianghiy 
and violent, and of course become alternately fawning and 
ferocious. 

The chief lesson to be drawn from this play is, to be on 
our guard against the effects of vicious habits. Gross sins 
make repentance a terror. The return to duty is most easy 
and consolini;, when the departure from it has been neither 
long nor wilful : 

breve tit quod turpiter audit. 



THE PARLIAMENT OP LOVE. 



The Pahltajiient of Love.] A comedy of this name was entered on the hooks of the Stationers' Com 
pany, June 29, lodO ; and a manuscript play so called, and said to he written by VV. Rowley ,_ was in the 
number of those destroyed by INIr. Warbiirton's servant. I suspect this to be the drama before U5. It is, 
beyond all possibility of doubt, tlie genuine work of iMassinojer, and was licensed for the stage bv Sir H. 
Herbert on the 3rJ of June, 1624. I have already mentioned mv obligations to Mv. Malone for the use of 
the manuscript, with permission to insert it in the present edition, of which it forms no inconsiderable 
ornament: it is here given witli the most scrupulous fivlelity, not a word, not a syllable, being altered or 
omitted, except in one or two instances, where the inadvertence of the old copyist had occasioned a palpable 
blunder, of which the remedy was as certain as the discovery was easy. 

It would not have required much pains, or the exeitinn of much ingenuitv, to supply most of the chasms 
occasioned by the defect of the manuscript, which are here pointed out by short lines : but it seemed the safer 
method to present them as they stood. The reader may now he contident that all is genuine, and exercise 
bis skill in filling up the vacant spaces, in a manner most consonant to his own ojiinion of the drift of the 
author. lie must not flatter himself with the hope of further aids, for unless another manuscript of this 
play should he discovered, (of which there is little probability,) no subsequent researches will add to what 
is now before him. Such, unfortunately, is the decayed state of the present, that with every precaution 
which the most anxious concern could suggest, it crumbled inider the inspection : a repetition, therefore, of 
my labours, which I scarcely think will be lightly undertaken, will produce nothing but disa])p.iintnient ; 
since many lines, and fragments of lines, which are faithfully copied in the succeeding pages, wdl be found 
in it no more. 

I cannot entertain a doubt but that this curious relick will b^ perused with uncommon interest; at least 
with all that perfect novelty can give: since it is Ingldy probable, tliat not a single page of it has been 
read by any person now in existence. 

The plot is founded upon those celebrated Courts or Parliaments of Love, said to be holden in France 
during the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuiies, for the discussion of amorous questions, and the 
distribution of rewards and punishments among fail lifnl and j)ertidious lovers. 

The origin of these institutions is due to the lively itnagination ot' the Troubadours . petty discussions on 
points of gallantry, which probably took place between them and their mistresses, are magnified, in their 
romantic writings, into grave and solemn debates, managed with all the form and ceremony of provincial 
councils, by the most distinguished personages of both sexes. 

In their tales this does not look amiss; when the whole business of the world is love, every thing con- 
nected with it assumes an air of importance ; but, unfortunately, these reveries of a warm fancy have found 
admittance into general history, where the improbability and folly of them become instantly apparent. LNo- 
thing, in short, can he more mean and absurd than th.j causes proposed for judgment, except, perliaps, it be 
the sentences of this motley tribunal. 

In France the existence of these Parliaments lias been discussed with much warmth. INIonsieur d* Chas- 
teuil a Provencal, and therefore interested in the honour of liis country, collected from the Tioubadours 
and their followers a number of anecdotes on the subject, wdiicli he moulded into a consistent and entertain- 
mg narrative: it wanted, however, the foundation of truth, ami was controverted in all its part.s by Monsieur 
de Haitze. The question is of little interest to us ; those, however, who feel any degree of curiosity oa the 
subject, may consult the Abbe de Sade*, who has stated the arguments on both sides with that candour 
and perspicuity which are visible in every page of his entertaining work. 

De Saile himself, though he laughs at the pretensions of the Troubadours, is yet inclined to think that 
Courts or Parliaments of Love were sometimes held ; though not with the state and formality ascribed to 
them by the historians of Provence. He mentions a celebrared one at Troyes, where the Countess of 
Charapagnet presided ; and he gives a few of the arrets, or decrees, which emanated from it: these art- 
still more friv^olous than those of the Troubadours, and in no age of the world could have been received 
without derision and contempt. 

After all, the reality of these tribunals was not doubted in Rlassinger's time, nor in the ages preceding 
it he had therefore sufficient authority for his iable. Add, too, that he has given the establishment a dig- 
nity which renders its decisions of importance. A dami^ tie chuleau issuing her ridiculous arrets (for so tiiey 
were styled) excites little notice ; but a great and victorious monarch sitting in judgment, attended by his 
peers, and surrounded with all the pomp of empire, is an imposing object. Nor are the causes selected, 

• Memoires pour la fie de Francois Petrarqiie, toiii. II notes, p. 44. 

f Mr. Godwin saj s — " the queiii ol Fniiict; ;" bin lie ieeiui to liavu posted through de Sade, as Yorick and hli \l\\ 
did thiough Kuro|)f — " at a prodigious rate." 

13 



150 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act I. 



altogether unworthy of the tribunal : it is not a miserable question, " whether lovers must needs be jealous/ 
" whether love can consist with matrimony*," &c. which is to be heard ; but injuries of a serious nature, 
and which can only be redressed by a court of this peculiar kind. In a word, a Parliament of Love, if 
ever respectable, is only so, as convoked in this delightful drama. 

As the list of the dramatis personae is destroyed, we are reduced to guess at tiie period in which the sup- 
posed events of this drama took place : luckily, there is not much room for deliberation, since t])e king's 
speech, on his first appearance, confines it to Charles VIII. That monarch led liis army into Italy on the 
tith of October, 1494, and entered Naples in triumph on the '20th of February in the following year: thus 
says Mezerai, " in four months this young king marched through all Italy, was received everywhere as 
their sovereign lord, without using any force, only sending his harbingers to mark out bis lodgings, and 
con(|uered the whole kingdom of Naples, excepting only Brindes, in fifteen days." 

Cliarles was the gayest monarch that ever sat upon the throne of France ; he was fond of masks, revels, 
dances, and the society of the ladies, to a culpable degree; INJassinger, therefore, could not have found a 
fitter prince for the establishment of a Parliament of Love. During a treaty with Lodowick Sforza, (father 
of Francis Duke of ]\lilan,) on which the security of his conquests in a great measure depended, he was so 
impatient to return to his favourite amusements, that he broke through all restraint, and before any of its 
stipulations were put in execution, " went away," continues the honest historian, " to dance, masquerade, and 
make love." By this precipitation, he lost all the fruit of his victories ; for Sforza did not perform one 
article of the treaty. 

This play was acted at the Cockpit, in Drury Lane. I have been sparing of my observations, being 
desirous (as far as was consistent with my plan) that it might enjoy the reader's undivided attention. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS, 

AS FAR AS THEY APPEAR IN THE REMAINING SCENES OF THIS PLAY 



Charles VIII. king of France. 

Dulie of Orleans. 

Duke of' Nemours. 

Chamont, a nobleman; a/jce guajdian to Bellisant. 

Philamour, ) M 

, ' \ counseUors. 

Lafort, ) 

Montrose, a noble gentleman, in love with Bellisant. 

Ci.EREMOND, in love with Leonora. 

Clarindope,-j 

Pericot, \tvild courtiers. 



Novall, 



DiNANT, physician to the court. 

Bellisant, a noble lady. 

Lamiha, wife to Chamont. 

Beaupre, {suppcsed Calista,) wtfe to Clarindora. 

Leonora. 

Clarinda, wife to Dinant. 

Other Courtiers, Priest, Officers, Servants, 8(e. 



SCENE, Paris, and the ad;acent country. 



ACT I. 



SCENE IV.— yl Room in Bellisant's House. 
Enter Chamont and Bellisant. 
Cham. _---•-• 

I didt discharge the trust imposed upon me, 
Being your guardian. 



» Memoires pour la 'Vie de Petrarqu^, torn. IL notet, 
l>. 6i). 

t / did &<•.] Here the fragment begins. It is not possible 
to say liow much uf this act is lost, as llie mamisciipt is not 
pageil ; but, perliaps, two or three fct nes. One must have 
talien place between Chamont and Beaupre, in wliirh the 
latter disclofed her history ; another, peilups, between Clere- 
rnond and Leonora; the assemblage of the " guests" at 
Bellisant's house probably formed a third, and tlie piesent 
conference, in which she quito her guests to attend on Cha- 
mont, may be llie fouith. Tlie reader will please to observe, 
Ihai all tills is conjecture, and given for nothing more: to 
facilil.ile references, il is necessary to lix on some delermi- 
oale number: the ultimate choice, however, is of no great 
m<iment, Ihoiii^h I flatter myself it cannot be far from the 
Iruth. Very little of this scene appears tube lost; Chamout 
it here, perhaps, in Uis first speech 



Bell. 'Tis with truth acknowledged. 

Cham. The love I then bore to you, and desir9 
To do vou all good offices of a friend. 
Continues with me, nay, increases, lady : 
And, out of this assurance, I presume. 
What, from a true heart, 1 shall now deliver, 
"Will meet a gentle censure. 

Bell, When you speak, 
W'hate'er the subject be, I gladly hear. 

Cham. To tell you of the greatness of yonr state. 
And from what noble stock you are derived. 
Were but impertinence, and a common theme, 
Since you well know both. What I am to speak of 
Touches you nearer ; therefore give me l-mve 
To say, that, howsoever your great bounties. 
Continual feasting, princely entertainments. 
May gain you the opinion of some few 
Of a brave generous spirit, (the best harvest 
That you can hope for from such costly seed,) 
You cannot yet, amongst the multitude, 
(Since, next unto tlie princes of the blood, - 
The eyes of all are fii'd on you,) but give 



Scene V.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



tSl 



Some wounds, which will not close without a scar 

To voiir fiiir reputation, and p;ood name, 

In surt'i'ring- such a crew of riotous gallants. 

Not of the best repute, to lie so frequent 

Hoth in your house and pre.-ence: this, 'tis rumour'd, 

Little agrees with the curiousness* of honour, 

Or modesty or a maid. 

Bell. Not to dwell long 
Upon my answer, I must thank your goodness, 
And provident care, that have instructed me 
What my revenues are, by which I measure 
How far I may expend ; and yet I find not 
That I begin to waste, nor would I add 
To what 1 now possess. I am myself; 
And for my fame, since I am innocent here, 
This for the world's opinion ! 

Chum. Talie heed, madam. 
That [.world'st] opinion, which you slight, confirms 
This lady for immodest, and proclaims 
Another for a modest ; whereas the first [second 
Ne'er knew what loose thoughts were, and the piaised 
Had never a cold dream. 

KM. I dare not argue : 
But what means to j)revent this? 

Cham. Noble marriage. 

Bell. Pardon me, sir; and do not think I scorn 
Your grave advice, which I have ever folio rved. 

Though not pleased in it. [not: 

Would you have me match with wealth? I need it 
Or Jiunt i'or hoiiour, and increase of titles? 
In truth, I rest ambitious of no greater 
Than wliiit my father left. Or do you judge 
My blood to run so high, that 'tis not in 
Phvsic to cool me? 1 yet feel no such heat: 
Hut when, against mv will, it grows upon me, 
ril think upon your counsel. 

Chum. If you resolve, then, 
lo live a virgin, you have - - - 
To which you may retire, and ha 

To 

In 

And live cont . - . . - 

Bell. What proof 
Should I give of my continence, if I lived 
Not seen, nor seeing any? Spartan Helen, 
Corintliian Lais, or Home's Messaline, 
So mew'd up, might have died as they were born, 
By lust untempted ; no, it is the glory 
Of chastity to be tempted, tempted home too. 
The honour else is nothing ! I would be 
The first example to convince, for liars, 
Those poets, tliat. with sharp and bitter rhymes 
Proclaim aloud, that chastity has no being, 
But in a cottage : and so confident 
I am in this to conquer, that I will 
Expose myself to all assaults; see masks, 
Anil hear bewitching sonnets ; change discourse 
With one that, for experience, could teach Ovid 
To write, a better way, his Art of Love: 
Feed high, and take and give free entertainment. 
Lend Cupid eyes, and new artillery. 
Deny his mother for a deity ; 
Ye* everyburning shot he made at me. 



* fAttle ayrcps with the curiousness of honour,'\ i. e. the 
pniKiiliuus uic.'iy uf honour: in ihis sense tlie word often 
i(xins. 

f That [world's] opinion which you sHyht, Sec] I have 
veiuined to complete the metre by iiiseiiiiiu llie word be- 
t«itn brackets, which was probably overlooked by the 
:raiiBcriber. 



Meeting with my chaste thoughts, should lose their 

ardour; 
Which when I have o'ercome, malicious men 
Must, to thnir shame, confess 'tis possible 
For a young lady (.some say fair) at court. 
To keep her virgin honour. 

Chum. l\Iay you prosper 
In this great undertaking! I'll not use 
A syllable to divert you : but must be 
A suitor in another kind. 

Bell. Whate'er it be, 
'Tis granted. 

Chum. It is only to accept 
A present from me. 

Bell. Call you this a suit? 

Cham. Come in, Calista. 

Enter Beaupke, disguised as a Moorish Slave. 

This is one I would 
Bestow upon you. 

Bell. 'Tis the handsomest 
I e'er saw of her country ; she hath neither 
Thick lips, nor rough curl'd hair. 

Cham. Her manners, lady, 
Upon my honour, better her good shape : 
She speaks our language too ; for being surprised 
In Barbavy, she was bestowed upon 
A pirare of Marseilles*, tvith whose wife {her, 

She lived five years, and learn 'd it: there I bought 
As pitying her hard usage ; if you please 
To make her yours, you may. 

Bell. With many thanks. 
Come hither, pretty one; fear not, you shall find mo 
A gentle mistress. 

Beau. With my care and service 
I'll study to preserve you such. 

Bell. Well answered. 
Come, follow me ; we'll instantly to court, 
And take my guests along. 

Chum. I'hey wait you, madam. [Exeitrif. 



SCENE V. — A State Room in the Palace. 

Flourish. — Enter CiiAnLts, Orleans, NEMOuns, 
PniLAMOun, and Lafort. 

Char. Wliat solitude does dwell about our court ! 
Why this dull entertainment? Have I march 'd 
Victorious through Italy, enter'd Rome, 
Like a triumphant conqueror, set my foot 
Upon the neck of Florence, tamed the pride 
Of the Venetians, scourged those petty tyrants, 
That - - - - den of the world, to be 
- home, nay, my house neglected ! 

(Neiv Speaker.) - the courtiers would appear 
- - . - therefore they presumed 



(JVeiu Speaker.) 



the ladies, sir, 
that glad time 
- the choice. 



Enter Bellisant, Leonora, Lamira, Ci.ARrvDA, 
Chamont, Montrose, (.'leremond, CLAinNBonp;, 
Perigot, Novall, and other Courtiers. 

Phil. Here they come. 

Ladies. All happiness to your majesty ! 

Courtiers. And victory sit evei on your aword ! 



A pirate of Marseilles,] I\farieille$ litre, as u> the Un- 
natural Cnmhnt. is h irisvllab'*" 



152 



THE PARIJAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act I 



Char. Our tir.iiiks lo all. 
Htit wherefore come you in divided troops, 
As if the misrre;s would not !icce])t 
Their servants' ;;uard.shii>*, or the servants, slighted, 
Refuse lo offer it? You -.ill wear sad looks; 
On Perip,ot appears not that biunt mirth 
Which his face used to promise ; on Montrose 
T'here han;>s a heavy duluess; Cleremond 
Droops even to death, and Clarindore hath lost 
Much of his sharpness ; nav, these ladies too. 
Whose sparklinj^- eyes did use to tire the court 
With various inventions of delight, [whence 

Part wit') their splendour. What's the cause ? from 
Proceeds this alteration ? 

Peri. I am troubled 
Witli the toothach, or with love, I know not whether: 
Tliere is a worm in both. [^Aaide. 

Clariii. It. is their pride. 

Bell. Or your unworihiness. 

CUir. The honour that 
The French dames lield for courtesy, above 
All ladies of the earth, dwells not in these. 
That glory in their cruelty. 

Lam. 1 he desert 
The chevaliers of -France were truly lords of, 
And which your grandsires really did possess. 
At no part you inherit. 

Bell. Ere they durst 
Presume to offer service to a lady 
In person they perforin'd some gallant acts, 
The fame of which prepared them gracious hearing, 
Ere they made their approaches : what coy she, then, 
Though great in birtli, not to be parallel'd 
For nature's liberal bounties, both set off 
With fortune's trappings, wealth ; hut, with delight, 
Gladly acknowledged sucii a man her servant 
To whise heroic courage, and deep wisdom. 
The flourishing commonwealtli, and thankful king, 
Confess'd themselves for debtors? U'hereas now. 
If you have travelled Italy, and Ijrought home 
Some remnants of the language, and can set 
Your faces in some strange and ne'er seen posture. 
Dance a lavoltaf, and be rude and saucy ; 
Protest, and swear, and damn, (for these are acts 
That most think grace them,) and then view vour- 
in the deceiving mirror of self-love, [selves 

\ou do conclude there hardly is a woman 
That can be worthy of you. 

Motit. We would grant 
We are not equal to our ancestors 
In noble undertakings, if we thought, 
III us a free confession would persuade you 
Not to deny your own most wilful errors : 
And where you tax us:f for unservi-'e, lady, 



• But wherefore come you in divided troops. 
As if the iiiisirehSfs wimid not accept 
'riii'ir servdiiis' yuardship.Hic] Servant and mistress, as 
I have already observe<l, ?it;iiilif(l, in llie language v( Mas- 
binger's time, a lover and the object i)f his atJ'ection. Let 
me now call the reader's attention lo the exquisite melody 
Of this speech : notliin-,' is t'orce<l, iinhiiig is inverted ; plain- 
ness and simplicity are all the aids ot which the poet lias 
axailt'd hiinsell', yet a more perlect speciiiien of (lowing, 
elegant, and rythmical modulaiion is not to" be found in the 
English language. 'I'he sprightline-s, energy, and spirit 
which pervade the remainder of this scene are worthy of all 
praise 

^ Dance a lavolta,! For this dance (for which the conrtiers 
of Ei);;land as well as of France were indebted to Italy) see 
thi' (ireat Duke of Flormce. 

\ And where yuu tax us, &C.] Where is used for whereas : 
« practice au coininuu with Massinger, and indeed with all 



I never knew a soldier yet, that could 

Arrive into your favour; we may suffer 

'J'he winter's frost, and scorching summer's heat. 

When the hot lion's breath siiigeth the fields, 

'lo .seek out victory; yet, at our return, 

Though honour'd in our manly wouiids, well taken, 

Vou say they do deform us, and the loss 

Of much blood that way, renders us unfit 

To please vou in your chamUers. 

(Jlarin. I must speak 
A little in the general cause : your beauties 
Are ciiarms that do enchant so - - - 

Knowing- that we are fastened in your toils ; 
In which to struggle, or strive to break out. 
Increases the captivity. iNever Circe, 
Sated with such she j)urposed to transform. 
Or cunning Siren, for whose fatal music 
Nought but the hearer's death could satisfy, . 
Knew less of pity. Nay, I dare go further, 
And justify your majesty hath lost 
More resolute and brave courageous spirits 
In this same dull and languishing fight of love, 
Than e'er your wars took from you. 

Ciur. No reply : 

This is a cause v,e will determine of. 
And speedilv redress : tamed Italy, 
\\ ith fear, confesses me a warlike king. 
And France shall boast 1 am a prince of love. 
Shall we, that keep perpetual parliaments 
For petty suits, or the least injury 
Offer'd the goods or bodies of our subjects. 
Not study a cure or the sickness of the mind. 
Whose venomous contagion hath infected 
Our bravest servants, and the choicest beauties 
Our court is proud of? These are wounds requira 
A kingly surgeon, and the honour worthy 
By us to be accepted. 
'Phil. It would add 
To the rest of your great actions. 

Luf. But the means 
Most difficult, 1 fear 

Cham. You ^ ball do more, sir. 
If you perform this, than I e'er could read 
The sons of Saturn, that by lot divided 
The government of the air, the sea, and Lell 
Had spirit to undertake. 

Chitr. Why, this more fires me ; 
And now partake of my design. With speed 
Erect a place of justice near the court. 
Which we'll have styled, the Parliament of Lors^ 
Here such whose humble service is not consider'd 
By their proud mistresses, freely may complain j 
And shall have hearing and redress. 

Nov. O rare ! 

Peri. 1 like this well. 

Char. And ladies that are wrong'd 
By- such as do ))rofess themselves their servants, 
INlay cite them hither, and their cause deliver'd 
Or by their own tongues, or fee'd advocates, 
Find sudden satisfaction. 

Ncv. V\ hat a rascal 
Was I to If ave the law ! I might have had 
Clients and clients. Ne'er was such a time 
For any smooth-chinn'd advocate. 

Peri. They will get the c^art 



our old writers, that it is unnecessary to proance 
example of it. 



Scene I.] 



THE PARLAMENT OF LOVE. 



153 



Of tlie Indies' spruce plivsicians, starve their chap- 
Though iifver so -.veil timber'd. [laiiis, 

Chw. '1 is our will, 
Nor shall it be disputed. Of this court. 
Or rather, sanctuary of pure lovers, 
My lord of Orleans, and Nemours, assisted 
By the messieurs Phihimour and Lafort, are judges. 
You have worn A'eaus' colours from your youth. 



And cannot, therefore, but be sensible 
Of all her mysteries: what you shall determine. 
In the way of penance, ])unislinient, or reward, 
Shall - - - the trial; a month we ^rant you - 
------ amours, which expired, 

- - - - make your com|ilaints, and be assured 

- - - impartial hearint;; ; this determined, 

- ----- rest of our aftairs. \_ExeuHt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. — A Room in Clarindore's House. 
Enter CLAniNDonE, Montrose, Perigot, and 

NOVALL. 

Peri, I do not relish 
The last part of the kind's speech, though 1 was 
Much taken with the first. 

A'rtti. Your reason, tutor? 

Peri. Why, look you, pupil ; the decree, that 
women 
Should not neglect the service of their lovers. 
But pay them from the exchecjuer they were born with, 
Was good and laudable ; they being created 
To be both tractable and tactable, 
When thev are useful : but to have it order'd, 
All women that have stumbled in the dark, 
Or given, by owl-ligiit, favuurs, should complain. 
Is most intolerable: 1 myself shall have. [efs, 

Of such as trade in the streets, and 'scaped my puck- 
Of proi;ress laundresses, and marketwoinen. 
When tlie king's pleasure's known, a thousand bills 
Preferr d against me. 

Cliiriii. This is out of season : 
Nothing to madam Uellisant, that, in public, 
Hath so inveighed against us. 

Nov She's a fury, 
I dare no more attempt her. 

Peri. I'll not venture 
To change six worf's with her for half her state. 
Or stay, till she uv, /r'imm'd*, from wine and women, 
For any new monopoly. 

Moiit. 1 will study ' 
How ti forget her, shun the tempting poison 
Her looks, and magic of discourse, still offer. 
And be myself again : since there's no hope, . 
' Twere madness to pursue her. 

Peri, 'i'liere are madams [not 

Better brought up, 'tis thought, and wives tliat dare 
Complain in parliament ; there's safe trading, pupil: 
And, when slie finds she is of all forsaken. 
Let my lady pride repent in vain, and mump. 
And envy others' markets. 

Cluriii. INI ay L ne'er prosper 
But you are three of the most fainting spirits 
Ihat ever 1 conversed with ! Vou do well 
To talk of j)rogress laund-esses, punks, and beggars: 
The wife of some rich tradesman with three teeth, 
Ai)d twice so many hairs: truck with old ladies. 



_ • Or 'tat/, til she be trimiii'd from wine and momeii ] 
This word IS veiy iiilistiiict in tin- iii;»imi-(i ipi ; I cojiifd it 
Willi my b>-.s| cue, but still d^.iibt whtllier il bu llie one 
given by tliu autliur. 



That nature hath given o'er, that owe their doctorn 

For an artificial life, that are so frozen, 

'I'hat a sound plague cannot thaw them; but despair 

I rjive you over : never hope to take 

A velvet petticoat u]), or to commit 

With an Italian cutwork sinock, wnen torn too. 

Mont. And what hopes nourish you ? 

CLirin. Ti-oth, mine are modest. 
I am only confident to win the lady 
You dare not look on, and now, in the height 
Of her contempt and scorn, to humble her. 
And teach her at whiVt game her mother play'd. 
When she was got; and, cloy'd with those pOM 

toys. 
As I find her obedient and pleasing, 
I may, perhaps, descend to marry her : 
Then, with a kind of state, I take my chair*, 
Command a sudden muster of mv servants, 
And^ aftei- two or thrse majestic hpms, 
It being known all is mine, peruse my writings. 
Let out this manor, at an easy rate, 
To such a frientl, lend this ten thousand crowns 
For the redemptioti of his mortgaged land, 
Give to each by-blow 1 know mine, a farm, 
Erect ... this in conse- 

That pleased me in mv youth, but now grown stale. 
These things first ordered by me, and confirm'd 
By Bellisant, my wife, I care not much 
If, 9it of ht-r own lands, I do assign her 
Some pretty jointure. 

Peri. Talkest thou in thy sleep? 

A'oy. Or art thou mad ? 

Clin: A little elevated 
With the assurance of my future fortune: 
Why do you stare and grin? I know this must be. 
And I will lav three thousand crowns, within 
A month 1 will effect this. 

Moitt. How ! 

CLuriu. (live proof 
I have enjoy'd fair Bellisant, evident proof 
I have pluck'd her virgin rose, so long preserved. 
Not, like a play-trick, with a chain or ringt 
Stolen by corruption, but, against her will, 
Make her confess so much 

Mont. Impossible. 



* Thfn with a kind of stale, / tal.e my chair, &c.] Tfiis 
is imitated Mom tlie s<ililoqii\ ot' M.dvolio, in 'twelfth Night, 
wliiili IS il^eli .Ml i nit ifi.iii ot' llie reverie oi Aliid^clidr, in 
the Arabian l^ij/hts E'/itfrtniitment. 

+ A'of. like a p'ay-lrick, with a chain or rin% 

Stolen b I comi/jtioH, IS.C.] Here is .ill .dliision, perli.ipa, 
to tlie br.icelel of 1 ..o-eii : the trick, however, of which 
Cl.irindoie speaks, is lound in many ot'uur old dramas. 



154 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act II 



Ctarin. Tlien the diss race be mine, the profit yours, 
If that you iliiiik lier clin.stity u rock 
Wot to be moved or shaken, or hold me 
A flatterer of nivself, or overweener. 
Let me pay for my foolery. 

Peri, ril engage 
Myself for a thousand. 

JViiu. I'll not out for a second. 

Mont. 1 would gladly lose a third partfor assurance 
No virgin can stand constant long;. 

Ctarin. Leave that 
To the trial : let us to a notary, 
Draw the conditions, see the crowns deposited, 
And then 1 will not crv, St. l~>ennis for me* ! 
But Love, blind archer, aid me ! 

Peri. Look you thrive ; 
I would not be so jeer'd and hooted at, 
As vou will be else. 

CLrin. 1 will run the hazard. [^Eiennt, 



SCP^NE II. — A lioom in Leonorv's House. 
Enter Lt'.ONOHA and a Servant. 

Serv. He will not be denied 

Leon. Slave, beat him back ! 
I feed such whelps. 

Serv. Madam, ] rattled him, 
Rattled him home. 

Leon. Rattle him lience, you I'ascal, 
Or never see me more. 

Enter Cleremond. 

Serv. He comes : a sworil ! 
What would you have me do? Shall I cry murder 
Or raise the constable ? 

Leon. Hence, you shaking coward! [sum 

Serv. 1 am ghid 1 am so got off: here's a round 
For a few bitter words ! be not shook off, sir; 
I'll see none shall disturb you. [Exit. 

Cler. You might spare 
These frowns, good lady, on me; tliey are useless, 
I am shot through and through with your disdain, 
4nd on my heart the darts of scorn so thick, 
Jhat there's no vacant place left to receive 
Another wound ; their multitude is grown 
My best defence, and do confirm me that % 

You cannot hurt me further. 

Leon. \\ ert thou not 
Made up of impudence, and slaved to follv, 
Did any drop of noble blood remain 
In thy lusti'ul veins, liadst thou or touch or relish, 
Of modesty, civility, or manners. 
Or but in thy deformed outside only 
Thou didst retain the essence of a man, 
- - - ----- so many . - - 

And loathing- to thy person, thou wouldst not 
Force from a blushing- woman that rude language. 
Thy baseness first made me accpiainted with. 

Cler. Mow saint-like patience guard me! 

Leon. 1 have heard 
Of mountebanks, that, to vent their drugs and oils, 
Have so inur'd themselves to poison, that 
Tliey could digest a venom'd toad, or spider, 
Better than wholesome viands: in the list 



• S^ Dennis for me.'] This was tlie 

watcli-uord of llii; French soldiers when thi-y charged iheir 
•UeniieE. 



Of such 1 hold thee ; for tliat bitterness 

Of sjieech, rejiroof, and scorn, by hei delivered 

Whom thou professest to adore, and shake at, 

Which would deter all mankind but thyself. 

Do nourish in thee. saucy ho])es, with pleasure. • 

Cler. Hear but my just del'ence. 

Leon. Yet, since thou art 
So spaniel-like affected, and tliy dotage 
Increases from abuse and injury. 
That way I'll once more feast thee. Of all men 
I ever saw yet, in my settled judgment, 
'Spite of thy baiber, tailor, and perfiimer. 
And thine adulterate and bonow'd helps. 
Thou art the ugliest creature ; and when trimm'd up 
To the height, as thou imagin'st, in mine eyes, 
A leper with a clap-dish, (to give notice 
lie is infectious*,) in respect of ihte, 
A]>j)ears a young Adonis. 

Cler. You look on me 
In a false glass, niad-am. 

Leon. '1 hen thy dunghill mind. 
Suitable to the outside, never yet 
Produced one gentle thought, knowing her w-ant 
Of faculties to ])ut it into act. 
Thy courtship, as absurd as any zany's, 
After a ])ractised manner; thy tliscourse. 
Though full of bombast phrase, never brought matter 
Worthy the laughing at, much less the hearing.-— 
But I grow weary ; ibr, indeed, to speak thee, 
'J'liy ills I mean, and speak them to the full, 
Would tire a thousand women's voluble tongues, 
And twice so many lawyers' — for a I'arewell, 
I'll sooner das]) an incubns, or hug 
A fork'd-tongued adder, than meet thy embraces, 
Which, as the devil, I fly from. 

Cler. Now you have s})ent 
The utmost of your spleen, 1 would not say 
Your malice, set off" to the height with tictuin, 
Allow me leave, (a poor re(]uest, whitli judges 
Seldom deny Ainto a man condemn'd,) 
A little to complain : for, being censured. 
Or to extenuate; or e.xcuse my guilt. 
Were but to wash an Ethiop. How oft, with tears, 
W hen the inlmman porter has forbid 
My entrance by your most severe commands, 



* A leper ivHh a clap-dish, (to yivc notice 
He is infectious, )\ 'I'liis explrtii^s llie origin of (he 
riistoin, to wliicli our old wi iters have biicli (Veqtuni alio 
siuns. 

The leprosy was once very conimun here; this ihe 
writers >>n Ihe siibjeet propeiiy ainibiilc to ilie \>ant oi 
linen, ol' I're.'h meat in v\inler, and above all, lo the ^luih in 
which Ihe po(ir vegetated in Iheir most hllhy hovels. Oni 
old poets seldom nieniion a leper, without noli, in;;, at ll).^ 
sanje time, hi- constant aceonipaninients, the cup ana 
clapper, 'i hns Heiiry>on: 

" Thus sh.dt ihon go beijeing fio hons to hons, 
Willi cupjje and clapper, like a Lnsaroiis." 

Testament of Cresseide. 

The clapper was not, as some imagine, an in>triijnent 
solely calculated lor making a noise; it was simply Ihe 
cover of tlie cup or dish, which the poor wretch opt-oed and 
shut wiih a l,oiul clap, at the doors of ihe well-disposed. 
Cleanliness and a wholesome iliel have eradicated thia 
loaihsome dis';:iSe among>t lis; br.t it still exists ni many 
parts ol the continent, where I have seen lillle eommimiUei 
of Ihe infected, beijging by the road side with a clapilish, 
which they omiiniie to stiiUe, as lormeily, on the aopeir- 
ance of a traveller. In KnL,land the clap di>;'h was ini 
pudenlly asMimed by vagrants, sturdy-beggars, &c., who 
found it (as Farquhar says of the title of capt:iin) "conve- 
nient for travelling," as the leiror or pity the sotind of it 
excited was >veU calculated to draw coutribulions from (h« 
public. 



Scene III.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



155 



Have these eyes wash'd your threshold ! Did there 
Come novelty to Paris, rich or rare, [ever 

Which but as soon as known was not presented, 
Howe'er with frowns refused ? Have I not broug;ht 
'J'he braveries of France* before your window. 
To fight at barriers, or to break a lance, 
Or, in their full career, to take the ring. 
To do your honour? and then, being refused 
To speak my grief, my arms, my impresses, 
The colours that I wore, in a dumb sorrow 
Express'd iiow much I suffer 'd in tlie rigour 
Of your dis])leasure. 

Leon. Two months hence I'll have 

The 

Cler. Stav, best madam, 
I am growing to a period. 

Leon. Prav vou do; 
[ here shall take a nap else, 'tis so pleasing. 

Cler. Tlieu onlv this : the voice you now contemn, 
You once did swear was musical ; you have met too 
These lips in a soft encounter, and have brought 
An equal ardour with you : never lived 
A happier pair of lovers. I confess, 
After you ])romise(l marriage, nothing wanting 
But a few davs expired, to make me happy, 
My violent impatience of delay 
Made me presume, and with some amorous force, 
To ask a full fruition of tliose pleasures 
Which sacred Hymen to the world makes lawful. 
Before his torch was lighted; in this only, 
You justly can recuse me. 
Leon. Dar'st thou think 
That this offence can ever find a pardon, 
Unworthy as thou art ! 

Cler. But you most cruel. 
That, in your studied purpose of revenge. 
Cast botli divine and human laws behind you. 
And only see their rigour, not their mercy. 
Offences of foul shape, by holy writ 
Are warranted remission, provided 
That the deliH(|uent undergo the penance 
Imposed upon him by his cont'essor: 
But you that should be mine, and only can 
Or punish or absolve me, are so far 
From doing me right, that you disdain to hear me. 
Leon. Now 1 may catch him in my long-wish 'd 
toils ; pose. 

My hate help me to work it! (aside.) To what pur- 
Poor and pale spirited man, should I expect 
From thee the satisfaction of a wrong, 
('ompared to which, the murder of a brother 
Were but a gentle injury ? 
Cler. Witness, heaven, 
All blessings lioped by good men, and all tortures 
The wicked shake at, no saint left unsworn by, 
That, uncompell'd, 1 here give up juyself 
Wholly to your devotion; if I fail 
To do whatever you please to command, 
Toexpiiite my trespass to your honour. 
So that, the task perform'd, youjiiikewise swear, 
First to forgive, and after, marry me. 
May 1 endure more sharp and lingering torments 
Than ever tyrants found out! may my friends 
With scorn, not pitv, look upon my sufferings, 
And at my last gasp, in the jdace of hope, 
Sorrow, despair, possess me! 



• 7'Ar bravcri*-s of France,} We have liad this expression 
before. See The Bondman. 



Leon. You are caught, 
Most miserable fool, but fit to be so ; — 
And 'tis but justice that thou art delivered 
Into her ])ower that's sensible of a wrong. 
And glories to revenge it. Let me study 
What dreadful punishment, worthy my fury, 
I shall inflict upon thee ; all the malice 
Of injured women help me! death? that's nothing, 
"J'is, to a conscious wretch, a benefit. 
And not a penance ; else, on the next tree. 
For sport's sake, I would make thee hang thyself. 
Cler. What have I done ? 
Leon. What cannot be recall'd. 
To row for seven years in the Turkish gallies ? 
A flea- biting ! To be sold to a brothel, 
Or a common bagnio? that's a trifle too! 

- - Furies ..---. 
1 he lashes of their whips pierce through the mind. 
I'll imitate them : I have it too. 

Cler. Remember 
You are a woman. 

Leon. I have heard thee boast. 
That of all blessings in the earth next me, 
The number of thy trusty, faithful fr'iends. 
Made up thy happiness : out of these, I charge 

thee. 
And by thine own repeated oaths conjure thee, 
To kill the best deserver. Do not start ; 
I'll have no other penance : then to practise. 
To find some means he that deserves the best, 
By undertaking something others fly from : 
This done, 1 am thine. 
Cler. But hear me. 
Leon. Not a syllable : 
And till then never see me. [Exit. 

CUr. I am lost. 
Foolishly lost and sunk by mine own baseness : 
I'll say only. 

With a heart-breaking patience, yet not rave. 
Better the devil's than a woman's slave. [^Exil. 



SCENE III.— ^ Room in Bellisant's House. 
Enter Clarindore and Beai'pre. 

Clarin. Nay, prithee, good Calista — 

Bean. As I live, sir, 
She is determined to be private, and charged me. 
Till of herself she broke up her retirement, 
Not to admit a visitant. 

Cliirin. Thou art a fool. 
And I must have thee learn to know thy strengtli ; 
1 here never was a sure path to the mistress, 
But by her minister's help, which I will pay for: 

[^Gives her his pur$t. 
But vet this is but trash ; hark in thine ear — 
By Love ! I like thy person, and will make 
Full payment that way ; be thou wise. 

Beiiu. Like me, sir ! 
One of my dark complexion ! 

Clarin. I am serious : 
The curtains drawn, and envious light shut out. 
The soft touch heightens a])petite, and takes more 
'i'han colour, \'enus'' dressing, in the day time. 
But never thought on in her midnight revels. 
Come, I must li-.ive thee mine. 

Beau. But how to serve you ? 

Clarin. Be s])eaking still my praises to thy ladv, 
How much I love and languish for her bounties : 



156 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE 



[Act IL 



You may remember* too, how many madams 

Arerh-als (or me, and in way of caution. 

Say you have lieard, wlien 1 was wild, how dreadful 

My name was to a profess'd courtezan, 

Still asking more tiian she could give. 

Enter Beli.isant. 

Beau. Mv lady ! 
Bell, lie wiiiiiu call : 

[^Aside, to the Servants within. 

How now, Clarindore, 
Courting my servant! Nay, 'tis not mv envy — 
You now i^x|iress yourself a complete lover, 
Thar, for variety's sake, if she be woman, 
Can change discourse with any. 

Clarin. All are foils 
I practise on, but when you make me happy 
In doing me that honour: 1 desired 
To hear her s]ieak in the iMorisco tongue ; 
Troth, 'tis a pretty language. 

Bell.. Yes, to dance to : 
Look to tho^e sweetmeats. [EjitBcmipre. 

Clarin. How ! by heaven, she aims 
To s])eak witli me in pr.vate ! 

Bell . Come, sit down ; 
Let's have some merry conference. 
Clarin. In which . - - . . 

It 

That my wliole life employ 'd to do you service. 
At no part can deserve. 

Bell. If you esteeem it 
At such a rate, do not abuse my bounty. 
Or comment on the •; ranted ju'ivacy, further 
Than wliat the text may warrant; so you shall 
Destroy what I have built. 

Clarin. I like not this. \_Aiide. 

Bell. This new-erected Parliament of Love, 
t seems, has Irighied hence my visitants : 
How spejid Montrose and Perigot their hours? 
Novall and Cleremond vanish'd in a moment ; 
I like voiir constancy yet. 

Clarin. I li-at's good again ; 
She hath restored all : Pity them, good madam , 
The splendour of your house and enterlaininent, 
Enrich'd witli all perfections by yourself. 
Is too, too glorious for their dnn eyes: 
You are above their element; modest fools ! 
That only dare admire : and bar them from 
Com|)aring of these eyes to the fairest flowers, 
Giving you Juno's majesty, Pallas' wit, 
Diana's iiaml, and I hetis' pretty foot ; 
Or, when you dance, to swear that Venus leads 
The Loves and Graces from the Idalian green. 
And sucli hyperboles stolen out of playbooks, 
They would stand all day mute, and as you were 
Some curious ])icture only to be look'd on. 
Presume no further. 

Bell. Pray you keep your distance. 
And grow not rude. 

Clarin. Rude, lady ! manly boldnesa 
Cannot deserve that name ; 1 have studied you, 
And love hath made an easy gloss upon 
'I he most abstruse and hidden mysteries 
Whichyou may keepconceal'd. You wellmay praise 
A bashful suitor, that is ravish'd with 
A feather of your fan, or if he gain 
A riband from, your shoe, cries out Nil ultra ! 



* You may remember too,] i. e. put her mind. 



Bell. And what would satisfy yovi ? 

Clarin. Not such poor triiles, 
I can assure you, lady. Do not I see 
You are gamesome, young, and active ? that you love 
A man that, of himself, comes boldly on, 
That will not put your modesty to trouble, 
To teach liim how to feed, ^\hen meat's before him? 
That knows that you are flesh and blood, a creature. 
And born with such affections, that like me. 
Now 1 liave opportunity, and your favour. 
Will not abuse my fortune ? Should 1 stand now 
Licking my fingers, cry, ah me ! then kneel. 
And swear you were a goddess, kiss the skirts 
Of your proud garments, when 1 were gone, I am 

sure 
I should be kindly laugh 'd at for a coxcomb; 
The story made the subject of your mirth. 
At your next meeting, when you sit in council, 
Among- the beauties. 

Bell. Is this possible ? 
All due respect forgotten ! 

Clarin. llang respect 1 
Are we not alone ? See, I dare touch this h^nd. 
And without adoration unglove it. 
A spring of youth is in this palm; here Cupid, 
'J he moisture turn'd to diamonds, heads his a. rows 
1 he iar-famed English bath, or German Spa, 
One drop of this will purchase. Shall this nectar 
Run useless, then to waste \ or - - - these lips, 
Ihat open like the morn, breathing pei fumes 
t)n such as dare ap])roach them, be untou^h'il? 
They must — nay, 'tis in vain to make resistance,— 
lie oiten kiss'd and tasted : — You seem angry 
At - - - I have dis])leased you. 

Bell. \to the iervauts within] ...--. 
And come pie])ared, as if some Africk monster, 
Jiy force, had broke into my house. 

Enter Servants, with drawn swords. 

Clarin. How's this? 

Bell. Circle him round with death, and if be Stir, 
Or but presume to sjieak, till i allow it. 
His bodv be the navel to the wheel. 
In which your rapiers, like so many spokes. 
Shall meet and lix ihemselves. 

Clarin. Were 1 off with life 
This for my wager ! 

Bell. Villain, shake and tremble 
At my just anger I VV Inch, of all my actions, 
Confined in virtuous limits, hath given life 
And birth to this presumption '. Hast thou ever 
Observed in me a wanton look or gesture 
^ot suiting with a virgin? Have 1 been 
Prodigal in my favours, or given hopes. 
To nourish such attempts ? Swear, and swear truly, 
What in thy soul thou tliink'st of me. 

Clarin. As of one 
Made up of chastity ; and only tried. 
Which 1 repent, wi^ this might work upon you. 

Bell. 'I he intent deserves not death; but, sirrah, 
know 
'Tis in my power to look thee dead. 

Clarin. 'lis granted. 

Bell. I am not so cruel ; yet for this insolence. 
Forbear my house for ever : if you are hot. 
You, ruffian-like, may Ibrce a partiug kiss 
As fiom a common gamester. 

Clarin. 1 am cool ; 
She's a virago. 



k 



Scene I.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



nr 



Bell. Or vou may go boast, 
How hiMVi'ly you came on, to voiir companions ; 
I will not bribe your silence : no reply. 
Now thrust him heiullong: out of doors, and see 
He never more pass mv threshold. [Exit, 

Clarin. This comes of 
Vly (laring- : all hell's plagues light on the proverb 
That says. Faint heart but it is stale. 



Serv. Pray vou walk, sir. 
We must shew you tiie way else. 

Cliiyin. he not too officious. 
I am no bar* for vou to try your strencrth on. 
Sit quietly by this disgrace I cannot : 
Some other course 1 must be forced to take. 
Not for my wager now, but honour's sake. 

[Exfunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I.— A Room in Ciiamont's House. 
Enter Chamont. Peuicot, Novai.l, Dinant, La- 

MIRA, lllld Cl.ARINDA. 

Pe^i. 'Twas prince-like entertainment. 

Chum. Vou o'erprize it. 

Dill. Your cheerful looks made every dish a feast, 
.Ind 'tis that crowns a welcome. 

Lu'ii. tor mv part, 
I hold society and honest mirth 
The gre;itest blessing of a civil life. 

Clii. Without good company, indeed, all dainties 
Lc«e ilicir true n-iish, and, like painted grapes, 
Are only seen, not tasted. 

AW jiy this light. 
She sj)eaks well too I I'll have a flingf at her j 
She i.-i no tit electuary for a doctor: 
A coarser julap may well cool his worship; 
I'liis cordial is for gallants. 

Cham. Let me see. 
The night grows old ; pray you often be my guests. 
Such ai dure come unto a - - - table, 
Althiugh not crack'd with curious delicates. 
Have liberty to cunnnand it as ilieir own : 
I may do the lilie with you, when you are married. 

Pti i. Ves, 'tis likely, 
When there's no forage to be had abroad. 
Nor credulous husbands lett to father children 
Of baclielors" begetting ; when court wives 
Are won to grant variety is not pleasing. 
And that a friend at a puich is useless to them, 
I - but till then 

Cham. You have a merry time of 't ; 

But we forget ourselves : — Gallants, good nigh*. 
Good master doctor, when your leisure serves, 
V^isii my house ; when we least need their art, 
Physicians look most lovely. 

Din. All that's in me. 
Is at your lordship's service. ]\Ionsieur Perigot, 
Monsieur iNovall, in what 1 may be useful, 
Pray you command me. 

iVoi.'. \\(i\\ wait on you home. 

Dill. By no means, sir ; goo.l night. 

[Exeunt ill but Novall aiid Perigot. 

Nov. The knave is jealous. 

Peri. 'Tis a disease few doctors cure themselves; of. 

Nov. 1 would he were my patient ! 

Peri. Do but practise 
To get his wife's consent, the way is easy. 

Nov. You may conclude so; for myself, I grant 
1 never was so taken with a woman, 



Nor ever had less liope. 

Peri. I5e not dejected ; 
Follow but my directions, she's >our own : 
I'll set thee in a course that shall not fail. — 
1 like thy choice ; but more of that hereafter : 
Adultery is a safe and secret sin ; 
The purch.ase of a maidenhead seldom quits 
The danger and the labour : build on this, 
He that jiuts home slia I iind all women coming, 
The frozen Hellisant ever excepteil. 
Could you believe the fair wife of Chamont, 
A lady never tainted in her honour, 
Sliould at the first assault, for till this night 
I never courted her, yield up the fort 
That she hath kept so long I 

Nov. 'lis v/ondrous strange. 
What winning language used you? 

Peri. Thou art a child ; 
'Tis action, not fine speeches, take a woman. 
Pleasure's their heaven ; and he tiiat gives as;3urane« 
That he hath strength to tame their hot desires, 
Is the prevailing orator : she but saw me 
.Tump over six join'd stools, and alter cut 
Some forty cajiers ; tricks itiat never missf. 
In a magnificent mask, to draw <he eyes 
Of all the beauties in the court upon me. 
But straight she wrung my hand, trod on my toe. 
And said my mistress could not but be happy 
In such an able servant. I replied 
Bluntly, I was ambitious to be hers ; 
And she, nor coy nor shy, straight entertain'd me 
I begg'd a j)nvate meeting, it was granted. 
The time and place a])pointed. 

Nov. But remember, 
Chataont is your friend. 

Peri. Now out upon thee, puisne ! 
As if a man so far e'er loved that title, 
But 'twas much more delight and tickling to him. 
To hug iiimself, and say, This is my cuckold ! 

A'c;;. But did he not observe thee I 

Peri. Though he did, 
As I am doubtful, I will not desist ; 
The danger will endear the sport. 



• / aTn no bdr for you to try your strength on.] Alludiiig 
to tilt' lliiedts i)f the SLTViiiits " to qnoii him down 9t,iirs." 
Pitcliing the bar is ■*till a yame al wliich the- rustics of ihi« 
country try their strew^th. 

f ■ nicks that never 7nlss, &c.] 

" He, iiidewl, dancc.l well: 
A turn o' llie tue, with a lofty trick or two. 
To argue niinbltiiess anfl a strong back. 
Will go far v\ith a niadaiii." 

'J'hc Custom if the Country. 



UA 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act 111. 



Enter C'LAniNDOKE. 
A'oD. Forbear ; 
Here's Cluriiiclore. 

Peri. We will be merry wiMi liim ; 
I have heard his eiiterhiimiieiit. Join but with me, 
And we will jeer tins self'-opiiiioii'd tool 
Almost to madness. 

Nov. He's air adv ^rown 
Exceeding- melancholy, and some say 
That's the first step to frenzy. 

Peri. I'll upon him. 
Save you, good monsieur! no reply? grown proud 
Of your success ! it is not well - . - . 

CUir. 'lis come out; these goslings 
Have heard of my ---..'. 

Koo. We f^ratulate, 
TJiough we pay fort, your happy entrance to 
'I'he certain favours, nay, the sure possession. 
Of madam hellisant. 

Clarin. The \oung- whelp too ! 
'Tis well, exceeding well. 

Peri, 'lis so wiih you, sir; 
But bear it modestly, 'faith it will become you : 
And being arrived at such a lordly revenue. 
As this your Iiajipy match instates you with. 
Two thousand crowns from me, anil from Novall, 
Though we almost confess the wager lost, 
Will be a small addition. 

Kov. You mistake him ; 
Nor do I fear, out of his noble nature. 
But that he may be won to license us 
To draw our venture. 

Clurin. Spend your frothy wits. 
Do, do ; you snarl, but hurt not. 

'Nov. O, give leave 
To losers for to speak. 

Peri. ' lis a strange fate 
Some men are born to, and a happy star 
That reign 'd at your nativity ! it cuuld not be else, 
A lady of a constancy like a' rock, 
Not to be moved, and held impregnable, 
Should yield at the first assault ! 

A'dc. 'Lis the reward 
Of a brave daring spirit. 

Peri. Tush ! we are dull ; * 

Abuse our opi)ortunities. 

Clurin. Have you dune yet? 

Peri. When he had privacy of discourse, he knew 
How to use that advantage ;'di.i he siaiid 
Fawning, and crouching! no; he la i. up boldly, 
Told her what she was born to, ruffled her, 
Kiss'd her, and toused her: — a.l the passa<;es 
Are at court already ; and, 'tis .said, a patent 
Is granted limi, if a'ny maid be chaste, 
For hnn to liumhle her, and a new name given him. 
The scdrnlul virgin tamer. 

Clurin. 1 may lame 
Your buffoon tongues, if you proceed. 

AV>D. No anger. 
I have heard that Hellisant was so 'aken with 
Your manly courage, that she straight iirepartdyou 
A sumptuous bjiiquet. 

Peri. Vet his enemies 
Report it was a blanket. 

ISov. Malice, maliie ! 
She was shewing him her chamber too, and call'd 

for n 

Perfumes. -and cambric sheets. 

Peri. When, .see the .luck on't! 
Against her will, h.r most unmannerly grooms. 



For so 'tis rumour'd, took him by the shoulders. 
And thrust him out of doors. 

Nov. Faith, sir, resolve us ; 
How was it? we would gladly know the truth. 
To stop the mouth of calumny. 

Clarin. Troth, sir, I'll tell you : 
One took me by the nose thus, and a second 
Made bold with me thus — but one word more, you 

shall 
Feel new expressions — and so my gentle boobies, 
Farewell, and be hang'd ! [Exit. 

Nov. We Iwve nettled him. 

Peri. Had we stung him to death, it were but 
justice, 
An overweening braggard! 

Nov. This is nothing 
To the doctor's wife. 

Peri. Come, we'll consult of it, 
And suddenly. 

Nov. I feel a woman's longing till I am at it. 

Peri. Never fear; she's thine own, boy. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE n.-^ Street. 
Enter Ct.eremoni). 
Cler. What have my sins been, heaven ? yet thy 
great ])leasure 
Must not be argued. Was wretch ever bound 
On such a black ailventure, in which only 
'I'o wish t-o prosjier is a greater curse 
'J'han to--------- me 

Of reason, understanding, and true judgment. 
'Twere a degree of comfort to myself 
I were stark mad ; or, like a beast of ]irey, 
Prick'd on by griping hunger, all my thoughts 
And faculties were wholly taken up 
To cloy my ajipetite, and could look no further : 
But 1 rise up a new exam])le of 
Calamity, transcending all before me ; 
And I should gild my misery with false comforts, 
If 1 compared it with an liuiian slave's, 
■Jhat with incessant labour to search out 
Some unknown mine, dives almost lo the cen!re; 
And, if then found, not tliank'd of his proud master. 
But this, if put into an equal scale 
With my unjjarallel'd foriune, will weigh mt'.iing; 
For from a cabinet of the choicest jewels 
That mankind ere was rich in, whose least gem 
All treasure of the earth, or what is hid 
Jn Neptune's watery bosom, cannot purchase, 
I must seek out the richest, fairest, purest. 
And when by proof 'tis known it holds the value, 
As soon as found destroy it. O most: cruel ; 
And yet, when I consider of the mahy 
That have jn-ofess'd themselves my friends, and 
vow'd [ments 

Their lives were not their own when my engage- 
Should summon them to be at my devotion. 
Not one endures the test ; 1 almost grow 
Of the world's received opinion, that holds 
Friendship but a mere name, that binds no further 
Than to the altar' — to retire with safety. 
Here comes iMontrose. 



• that binds no further 

t Than to the altar, An iilluMoii to the saying P«Ticle», 
that he uii.ihl sniip.^il llic inU'iLSt.^ ol hi* iVicn'l /-IfXP' ^^f^-^t 
iiaj'ar as the altar ; i. e. as t'.tr us his re.-.i)i.ct lur Uii; ^udi 
Wuuld ^ivu liiin leave. 



8C«NE 11.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



159 



Enter Monthose and Beauphe. 

What sudden joy transports him? 
1 never saw man r:i]if, so. 

Mont. Pur^e and all. 
And 'tis tot) little, though it were cramm'd full 
With crowns of the sun. O blessed, blessed paper! 
But made so by tlie touch of her fair hand. 
What shall I answer? Say, I am lier creature. 
Or, if thou canst find out a word that may 
Express subjection in an humbler style, 
Use it, I prithee ; add too. her commands 
Shall be with as much willingness perform'd, 
As I in this fold, tliis, receive her favours* 

Beau. I shall return so much. 

Monl. And that two hours 
Shall bring me to attend lier. 

Beau. With all care 
And circumstance of service from yourself, 
I will deliver it. 

Mont. I am still your debtor. [Exit Beavpre. 

Cler. I read llie cause now clearly ; I'll slip by : 
For though, even at this instant, he should prove 
Himself, which others' falsehood makes me doubt. 
That constant and best friend 1 go in quest of, 
It were inhuman in their birih to strangle 
His promising hopes of comfort. 

Munt. Cleremond 
Pass bv me as a stranger ! at a time too 
When 1 amfill'd with such excess of joy. 
So swollen and surfeited with true delight. 
That had I not found out a iriend, to whom 
I might impart them, and so give them vent, 
In their abundance they would force a passage. 
And let out life together I Prithee, bear. 
For friendsliii)'s sake, a part of that sweet burthen 
Wliich I i-ln'ink under ; and when thou hast read 
Fair ijellisant subscribed, so near my name too, 
Observe but that, — thou must, with me, confess. 
There cannot be room in one lover's heart 
Cajiacious enough to entertain 
Such multitudes of pleasures. 

Ck'i: I joy with you, 
Let that suftice, and envy not your blessings ; 
May ihey increase I 1-arewell, friend. 

Mont. How ! no more .' 
By the snow-white hand that writ these characters, 
It is a breach to courtesy and manners. 
So coldly to take notice of his good, 
Whom you call friend ! See further : here she writes 
That site is truly sensible of my sufferings, 
And not alone vouchsafes to call me servant, 
But to employ me in a cause that much 
Concerns her in her honour ; there's a favour ! 
Are you yet stujjid ! — and that, two hours hence, 
She does expect me in the private walks 
Neighbouring the Louvre: connot all this move 

you ? 
I could be angry. A tenth of these bounties 
But promised to you from Leonora, 
To witnes-j my affection to my friend. 
In his behalf, had taught me to forget 
All mine own miseries. 

Cler. Do not misinterpret 
This coldness in me ; for alas I Montro"" 
I am a thing so nu.de up of affliction. 



* As I in this fold, this, receive her favours.] Mas.«ii!ger 
fomi of lliese it|n titioiis, wliicli iiiilLtd, sparingly Uieil, 
have a very jood etlect. 



So every way contemn'd, that I conclude 

My sorrows are infectious ; and my com])7my. 

Like such as have foul ulcers running on them. 

To be with care avoided. iMay your happiness, 

In the favour of the matchless Bellisant, 

Ifourly increase ! and my best wishes guard you ! 

'Tis all that 1 can give. 

Mont. You mu-.t not leave me. 

Cler. Indeed I must and will ; mine own engage* 
ments 
Call me awav. 

Mont. What are they? I presume 
There cannot be a seci;et of that w eight. 
You dare not trust me with ; and should you doubt 

me, 
I justly miglit complain tliat my affection 
Is placed unfortunately. 

Cler. I know you are honest; 
And this is such a business, and requires 
Such sudden execution, that it cannot 
Fall in the eom])ass of your will, or power. 
To do me a friend's office. In a word. 
On terms that iie.ir concern me in mine honour, 
I am to fight the (juarrel, mortal too. 
The time some two hours hence, the jilace ten miles 
Distant from Paris ; and when you shall know 
I yet am unprovided of a second. 
You will excuse my sudden parting from you. 
Farewell, IMontrose. 

Mont. Not so ; I am the man 
Will ruti the danger with you ; and must tell you, 
That, while 1 live, it was a wrong to seek 
Another's arm to second you. J^ead the \vay ; 
]My horse stands ready. 

Cler. I confess 'lis noble 
For you to offer this, but it were base 
In me to accept it. 

Mont- Do not scorn me, friend. 

Cler. No ; hut admire and honour j'ou ; and from 
that 
Serious considei-ation, must refuse 
The tender of your aid. France knows you valiant 
And that ^ou might, in sins.le opposition, 
Fight for a crown ; but millions of reasons 
Forbid me your assistance. \ou forget 
Your own designs : heing the very minute 
I am to encounter with mine enemv, 
To meet vour mistress, such a mistress too. 
Whose favour you so many years have sought: 
And will you then, when she vouchsafes access. 
Nay more, invites you, check at her fair offer? 
Or shall it be repeated, to mv shame, 
For my own ends I robb'd you of a fortune 
Princes might envy ? Can you even hope 
She ever will receive you to her presence. 
If you neglect her now? — Be wise, dear friend. 
And, in jour prodigality of goodness, 
Do not undo yourself. Live long and happy, 
And leave me to my dangers. 

Mont. Cleremond, 
1 have with patience heard you, and consider'd 
The strength of your best argum.ents ; weigh'd the 

dangers 
I run in mine own fortunes ; but again. 
When I oppose the sacred name of friend 
Against those joys 1 have so long pursued, 
Neither ihe beauty of fair Bellisant, 
Her wealth, her viriues, can prevail so far, 
111 such a desperate case as this, to leave yoti.— 
'I'o have it to posterity recorded. 



ICO 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act Uh 



At such a time as this I proved true gold, 
And current in my friendiliip, shall he to me 
A thousand mistresses, and such embraces 
As leave no sting- hehind them : therefore, on ; 
I am resolved, unless you beat me oti", 
I will not leave you. 

Cler. Oil! here is a jewel 
Fit for the cabinet of the greatest monarch ! 
But 1 of all men miserable 

Mont. Come, be cheerful ; 
Good IbrUuie will attend us. 

Cler. Tliat, to me, 
To have liie greatest blessin», a true friend, 
Should bt^ ilie greatest curse! — lie yet advised. 

Mont. It is in vain. 

Cler. 1 hat e'er I should have cause 
To wish vou had loved less I 

Mont. I'he hour draws on : 
We'll talk more as we ride. 

Cler. Of men most wretched I [Exeunt. 



. SCENE in. — A Uoom in Bellisant's Hou^e. 
Enter Bellisant and Beaupre. 

Bell. Nay, pray you, dry your eyes, or your sad 
story. 
Whose every accent still, methinks, I hear, 
''I'was with such passion, and such grief'deliver'd, 
Will make mine bear your's company. All my 

fear is, 
The rigorous repulse this worst of men, 
False, perjured (^iarind.ire — I am sick to name him — 
Received at his last visit, will deter him 
From coming again. 

BeuK. No ; he's resolved to venture ; 
And has br.bed me, with hazard of vour anger, 
To get him access, but in another shape* : 
The time pvetix'd draws near too. 

Bell, 'lis the better. 
One knocks. 

Beau. 1 am sure 'tis he. 

Bell. Convey him in ; 
But do it with a face of fear. 



[Knocking within. 



[Exit Beaupre, 
I cannot 

Resolve yet with what looks to entertain him. 
You poweis that favour innocence, and reveng^e 
Wrongs done by such as stornfuUy dt-'ile 
Your awful names, insi»ire nje! [H'a/fcs abide. 

lie-enter Bkauptie uith Clauindore disguised. 

Beau. Sir, 1 hazard 
My service in this action. 

CLirin. Thou shait live 
To be the mistress of thyself and others. 
If that my jirojects hit : all's at the stake now: 
And as the die falls, I am made most ha]>pv. 
Or past expression wretched. 

Bell. 111! wjio's that? 
What bold intruder usher vou? This rudeness I — 
From whence ! wb-.it would he? 

Beau, lie brings letters, madam, 
As he sa^s, from Lord Chamont. 

Clurin. How her frowns fright me! 

Bell. From Lord Chamont? Are they of such import. 
That you, before my pleasure be enquired. 



but in another shape :] i. e. as I bave 
beCoie obiei ved, ia auuthcr divas. 



Dare bring the bearer to my private chambei '^ 
No more of tliis : your packet, sir .' 

Cliir II. The letters ' 
Deliver'd to my trust and faith are writ 
Jn such mysterious and dark charicters. 
As will recpjire the judgment of your soul. 
More than your eye, to read and understand them. 

Bell. What riddle's this? [Discviering Clarin, 

Ha ! am 1 then contemn'd ? 
Dare you do this, presuming on my soft 
And gentle nature?— Fear not, 1 must show 
A seeming anger. [Aside to Benujiie.] What new 

boist'rous courtshi]), 
After your late loose language, and forced kiss. 
Come you to practise ? I know none beyond it. 
li' you imagine that you may commit 
A ra])e in mine own house, and that my servants 
Will stand tame lookers on 

Cliria If 1 bring with me 
One thought, but of submission and sorrow. 
Or nourish any hope, but that your goodness 
iMay please to sign my pardon, nuiv 1 perish 
In vour (iisj)le;isure ! which to me is more 
'i'han fear of hell hereafter. 1 confess, 
'i'he violence 1 offered to your sweetness. 
In my presuinjition, with lips im])ure, 
'i"o force a touch from yours, a greater crime 
Than if 1 should have mix'd lascivious flames 
Witii those chaste tires that burn at Diaii's altar. 
1 hat 'twas a plot of trea on- <o vour v.i-.u>s. 
To think you could be temj)ted, or believe 
\ ou were not fashion'd in a better mould. 
And made of jiurer clay than otiier women. 
Since you are, then, the phoenix of your time. 
And e'en now, while you bless the earth, partake 
Of their angelical essence, imitate 
Heaven's aptness to forgive, when mercy's sued for. 
And once more take me to your grace and f ivour. 

Bell. What charms are the.^e ! whut an enchanting 
tongue ! 
\Vhat pitv 'tis, one that can speak so well, 
Should in his actions be so ill! 

Beau. 'Jake lieed. 
Lose not yourself. 

he. I. So well, sir, you have jdeaded. 
And, like an advocate, in your oun cause. 
That, though your guilt were greater, 1 aecjuit you, 
'I he fault no more remember d ; and for jiroof 
My heart partakes in my tongue, thus seal your 
pardon ; [A'/jses him 

And with this willing Aivour (which firced Ironi me 
Call'd on my anger) make atonement with you. 

Cliirin. If J dream now, (), ni.iy 1 never wake. 
But slumber thus ten ai;es ! 

Bell. Till this minute. 
You ne'er to me look'd lovely. 

Clurin. How ! 

Bell. Nor have I 
E'er seen a man, in my opinion, worthy 
'i'he bounty 1 vouchsafe you ; ther,4'oie fix h're. 
And make me understand that you can bear 
■i'our fortune modestly. 

Cluiin. 1 find her coming : 
This kiss was hut the prologue to the phiy, 
• And not to seek ihe rest were cowanlice. 
Hel]> me, tiissimulation ! (aside.) Pardon, madam, 
'i hough now. when I should put on clieerful looks 
In being blest with what I ilurst not hope tor, 
I change the comic scene, and do present yot* 
Witii a most tragic spectacle. 



SCSNB I.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



16J 



Bell. Heaven avert 
This prodigy', what mean youl 

Clarin. I'o contirm, 
In deaMi, how truly I have loved. I grant 
Your favours done me, yield this benefit. 
As to make way for me to pass, in peace 
To my long- rest : what I have tasted from you 
Informs me onlv of the much I want: 
For in vour pardon, and the kiss vouclisafed me, 
You diii but point me out a fore-right way 
To lead to certain happiness, and then will'd me 
To move no further. Pray you, excuse me, therefore, 
Though I desire to end a lingering torment : 
And, if you please, with your fair hand, to make me 
A sacrifice to your chastity, I will meet [vour 

The instrument you make choice of, with more fer- 
Than ever Caasar did, to hug the mistress 
He doted on, plumed victory ; but if that 
You do abhor the office, as too full 
Of cruelty and horror, yet give leave, 
That, in vour presence, I myself may be 
Both priest and offering. \^Draws his ncord. 

BeH. Hold, hold, frantic man ! 
The shrine of love shall not be bathed in blood. 
Women, though fair, were made to bring forth men, 
And not destroy them ; therefore hold, I say ! 
I had a mother, and she look'd upon me 
As on a true epitome of her youth : 
Nor can I tliink I am forbid the comfort 
To bring forth little models of myself. 
If heaven he pleased (my nuptial joys perform 'd) 
To make me iVuitful. 

Clirin. Such cele tial music 
Ne'er blest these ears. O ! you have argued better 
For me, than I could for myself. 

Bell. For you 1 
What, did 1 give you hope to be my husband? 

Clarin. Fallen off again ! [Aside. 

Bell. Yet smce you have given sure proof 
Of love and constancy, I'll unmask those tlioughts. 
That long have been conceal'd ; I am yours, but how ? 
In an honourable way. 

Clarin. I were more than base, 
Should 1 desire you otherwise. 



Bell. True affection 
Needs not a contract : and it were to doubt me, 
To engage me further ; yet, my vow expired. 
Which is, to live a virgin for a year, 
Challenge my promise. 

Clarin. For a year ! O, madam ! 
Play not the tyranness : do not give- me hopes, 
And in a moment change them to despair. 
A year ! alas, this body, that's all fire, 
If you refuse to quench it with your favour, 
Will, ni throe days, be cinders ; and vour mercy 
Will come too late then. Dearest lady, marriage 
Ts but a ceremony ; and a hurtful vow 
Is in the breach of it better commended, 
Than in the keeping. () ! 1 burn, I burn ; 
And, if you take not pity, I must fly . 
To my last refuge. {Offers to slab himself 

Beil. Hold! Say I could yield 
This night, to satisfy you to the full. 
And you should svv-ear, until the wedding day, 
To keep the favours I now grant conceal'd ; 
Vou would be talking. 

Chi: in. JNIay my tongue rot out, then ! 

Bell. Or boast to your companions of your con- 
quest, 
And of my easiness. 

Clarin. I'll endure the rack first. 

Bell. And, having what you long for, cast me off. 
As vou di(Jt madam Beaupre. 

Clarin. May the earth 
First gape, and swallow me ! 

Belt. I'll press vou no further. 
Go in, your chamber's ready : if ynu have 
A bedfellow, so: but silence I enjoin you, 
And liberty to leave you when 1 please: 
I blush, if you reply. 

Clarin. Till now ne'er happy ! [Exit. 

Beau. What means your ladyship? 

Bell. Do not ask, but do 
As I direct you : though as yet we tread 
A rough and thorny way, faint not; the end3 
I liope to reach shall make a large amends. 

[ExeimL 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — A Room in Dinant's House. 

Enter Novai.l and Dinant. 

Din. You are welcome first, sir: and that spoke, 
receive 
A fViithlul promise, all that art, or long 
Experience, hath taught me, shall enlarge 
Themselves for your recovery. 

Nov. Sir, I thank you, 
As far as a weak, sick, and unable man 
Has power to express ; but what wants in my tongue, 
My hand (for y-t my fingers feel no gout,) 
Shall speak in tiiis dumb language. 

k Gives him his purse. 

Din. You are too magnificent. 

Noo. Fie ! no, sir ; health is, sure, a precious 
We cannot buy it too dear. (jc\y«,>l, 

Din 'J'ake comfort, sir; 



I find not, by your urine, nor your pulse, 
Or any outward symptom, that you are 
In any certain danger. 

Nov. Olj ! the more my fear: 
Intirn)ities that are known are - - - cured, 
But when the causes of them are conceal'd. 
As these of mine are, doctor, they jirove mortal: 
Howe'er, I'll not forget you while 1 live. 
Do l)ut your parts. 

Din. Sir, they are at your service. 
I'll give you some preparatives, to instruct me 
Of your inward temper; then, as 1 find cause, 
Some gentle purge. 

Nov. Yes, 1 must purge ; I die else : 
But where, dear doctor, you shall not find out. 
'Jliis is a happy entrance, may it end ^\"'^'ll ! 
I'll mount your nightcap, Doddipol. [Amu 

Din- In what part, 



16t 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act IV. 



We are sworn to secrecy, and you must be free,) 
Do you find your greatest agony? 

Nov. Oil ! I have 
StranuR motions on tlie sudden ; villanous tumours, 
That rise, then fall, then rise again ; oh, doctor ! 
Not to be shown or named. 

Din. I hen, in my judgment, 
Vdu hiid best leave J'aris ; choose some fresher air ; 
'l"h;it does help much in ])liysic. 

Nov. LJy no means. 
Here, in your house, or no where, you must cure me : 
The eye of the master fats the horse : and when 
liis doctor's by, the patient may drink wine 
In a (it of a buriung fever: for your presence 
Works more than what you minister. Take physic. 
Attended on by ignorant grooms, mere strangers 
To your directions, I must hazard life, 
And you your reputation I whereas, sir, 
1 hold your house a college of your art. 
And every boy you keep, by you instiuited, 
A pretty piece of a Galenist: then the females. 
From your most fair wife to your kitchen drudge, 
Are so familiar with your learned courses. 
That, to an herb, they know to make thin broth : 
Or, wiien occasion serves, to cheer the heart. 
And such ingredient I shall have most need of. 
How many cocks o' the game make a strong cuUis, 
Or pheasant's eggs a caudle. 

Dill: I am glad 
To hear you argue with such strength. 

Enter Clarinda ; she whispers Dinant. 
Nov. A flash, sir: 
But now 1 feel my fit again. Slie is 
Made u[) of all perfection ; any danger 
That leads to the enjoying so much sweetness 
Is jileasure at the height : J am ravish'd with 

The mere imagination. OhhapfinessI [^Aiide. 

Din. How's this! One from the duke Nemours? 
C/«. Ves, sir. 
Dill. ' Tis rank , 
The sight of my wife hath forced him to forget 
To counterfeit: — I now guess at your sickness. 

And if 1 fit you not ! 

Clii. The gentleman stays you. [wife, 

Dili. I come to him presently ; in the mean time. 
Be careful of this monsieur : nay, no coyness. 
You may salute him boldly; his pale lips 
Lnchunt not in the toui.li. 
Nov. Her's do, I'm sure. 
Dill. Kiss him again. 
eta. Sir, this is more than modest. 
Dill. Modest ! why, fool, desire is dead in him: 
Call it a charitable, pious work, 
If it refresh his spirits. 

Nov. Yes, indeed, sir. 
I find great ease in it. 

Dill. Mark that! and would you 
Deny a sick man comfort ? meat's against 

- - - - . physic, must be granted too, 

- - - - wife - ... - you shall, 
In person, wait on him ; nay, hang not off, 

I say you shall: this night, with your own hands, 

I'll have you air his bed, and when he eats 

Of what you have prepared, you shall sit by him, 

And, witli some merry chat, help to repair 

Decayed a]ipetite ; watch by him when he slumbers; 

Kay, play his page s part: more, 1 durst trust you, 

\\'t'e this our wedding day, you yet a virgin. 

To be his bedfellow ; for well I know 

W,d i'riair's impotence, or Nestor's hernia, is 



Herculean activeness, if but compared 
Jo his debility • |)Ut him to his oath, 
He'll swear he can do nothing. 

Nov. Do! O no, sir; 
I am past the thought of it. 

Dill. But how do you like 
The method I prescribe? 

Nov. Beyond expression; 
Upon the mere report I do conceive 
Hope of recovery. 

Cla. Are you mad? 

Din. Peace, fool. 
This night you shall take a cordial to strengthen 
Your feeble limbs; 'twill cost ten cro\vns a draught. 

Nov. i\o matter, sir. 

Din. To morrow you shall walk 
To see my garden ; then my wife shall shew you 
'J he choice rooms of my house ; when you are weary, 
Cast yourself on her couch. 

Nov. Oh, divine doctor ! 
What man in health would not be sick, on purpose 
To be your patient? 

Din. Come, sir, to your chamber ; _ 
And now I understand where your disease lies, 
(Nay, lead him by the hand), doubt not I'll cure 
you. [Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — An open part of the Country near Parts. 
T.nter Ci.hnEMOND and MoNxposE. 

Cler. This is the place. 

Mont. An even piece of ground, 
Witb.out iidvantage ; but be jocund, friend ; 
The honour to have entered first the field. 
However we come oft', is ours*. 

CLer. I need not. 
Bo well I am acijuainted with your valour. 
To dare, in a good cause, as much as man. 
Lend you encouragement; and should I add. 
Your power to do, which fortune, howe'er blind. 
Hath ever seconded, 1 cannot doubt 
But victory stiil sits ui)Oti your sword. 
And must not now forsake you. 

Mont. You shall see me 
Come boldly uji ; nor will I shame your cause. 
By parting with an inch of ground not bought 
With blood on my part. 

Cler. "lis not to be question 'd : 
'that which 1 would entreat, (and pray you grant it ) 
Is, that you would forget your usual softness. 
Your foe being at your mercy ; it hath been 
A custom ill you, which 1 dare not praise, 
Having disarm'd your enemy of his sword, 
To tempt your fate, Ttiy yielding it again ; 
Then run a second nayard. 

Mont. \V hen we encounter 
A noble foe, we cannot be too noble. [v*"** 

Cler. That I confess ; but he that's now to opposa 
1 know for an archvillain ; one that hath lost 
All feeling of humanity, one that hates 
Goodness in others, 'cause he's ill himself; 



• The honour to have enter'd first the field, 

Hoicever we come off, ia ours.\ Tlius Fletcher : [side; 
" CLer. I'm tir.'sl in the lield, lliat honour's (;aiii'(l of our 
" I'ray heaven, 1 may get ott a« honoiir.ibly I" 

1 he -Little French Lawyer 
'.i i: iib«crv,ibte, that several of the names which occur is 
The Parliument of Love are f<iun<l also in Fletcher's play j 
lhou|<h iheir plots have nothing in common. 



SCF.NE III.] 



THE PARLIAMEXT OF LOVE. 



I6S 



A most ungrateful wretch, (the name's too gentle, 
AH atiributes of wickedness cannot reach him,) 
t)f whom to have deserved, beyond example 
Or precedent of friendship, is a wrong 
Which only death can satisfy. 

Mont. You describe 
A monster to me. 

Cler. True, Montrose, he is so. 
Afric, tliougli fertile of strange prodigies. 
Never produced his equal ; be Wise, tlierefore, 
And if he fall into your hands, dispatch him: 
Pity to him is cruelty. The sad lather. 
That sees his son stung by u snake to death. 
May, with more justice, stay his vengeful hand, 
And let the worm* escape, than you vouchsafe him 
A minute to repent : for 'tis a slave 
So sold to hell and mischief, that a traitor 
To his most lawful prince, a church-robber, 
A parricide, who, when his garners are 
Cramm'd with the purest grain, suffers his parents, 
Being old and weak, to starve for want of bread ; 
Compared to him, are innocent. 

Mont. I ne'er heard 
Of such a cursed nature ; if long-lived, 
He would infect mankind : rest you assured. 
He finds from me small courtesy. 

Cler. And expect 
As little from him ; blood is that he thirsts for, 
Not honourable wounds. 

Mnnt. 1 would I had him 
Within my sword's length! 

Cler. Have thy wish: Thau hast! 

[Cleremond draws his sword 
Nay, draw thy sword, and suddenly; 1 am 
That monster, temple-robber, parricide, 
Ingrateful wretch ; friend-hater, or what else 
Makes up the perfect figure of the devil, 
Should he appear like man. Banish amazement, 
And call thy ablest spirits up to guard thee 
Fi<)m him that's turn'd a fury. 1 am made 
Her minister, whose cruelty but named. 
Would with more horror strike the pale-cheek'd stars, 
Than all those dreadful words which conjurors use. 
To fright their damn'd familiars. T.ook not on me 
As I am Cleremond; I have parted with 
The essence tiiat was his, and entertain'd 
The soul of some fierce tigress, or a wolf's, 
New-liang'd for human slaughter, and 'tis fit : 
I could not else be an apt instrument 
To bloody Leonora. 

Mont. To mv knowledge 
I never wrong'd her. 

Cler. Yes, in being a friend 
To me : she hated my' best friend, ber malice 
Would look no lower: — and for being such. 
By her commands, Blontrose, I am to kill thee. 
Oh, that thou hadst, like others, been all words. 
And no performance ! or that thou hadst made 
Some little stop in thy career of kindness I 
Why wouldst thou, to confirm the name of friend. 
Despise the favours of fair Bellisant, 
And all those certain joys that waited for thee? 
Snatch at this fatal offer of a second, 
Which others fled from i — 'T is in vain to mourn now, 

• And let the worm escape,} i. e. tlie snake iiieiitinneil in 
the piLCt'diiig liiit; 1/ orm, wliicli is \iatK Sa\uii, w.is once 
the st'H'ial ifiiii tiir all le Iiltsi.l' ilic s. r()i'iit kind; indeed, 
it is sidl SI), in inhiiy (jaiis of ICusjUnd 'J'i.e word occurs 
«o fifqiienlly in Uiis sen>e, aiiiooj; llie uritfis of i^^;i^singt•|•■3 
time ilidt 11 aij()t:ur3 un leccBSarj to piudiice iiisuuces uf it. 



When there's no help; and therefore, good Montrose, 
Rouse thy most manly ]iarts, and think thou stand'st 
A champion for more than king or country: [now 
Since, in tliy fall, goodness itself must suffer. 
Remember too, the baseness of the wrong 
- - - friendship ; let it edge thy sword, 
And kill compassion in thee; and forget noc 
1 will take all advantages : and so. 
Without reply, have at thee ! 

[_1heyji«ht. Cleremond falls, 

Mont. See, how weak 
An ill cause is ! you are already fallen : 
What can you look for now? 

Cler. Fool, use thy fortune : 
And so he counsels thee, that, if we had 
Changed places, instantly would have cut thy throaty 
Or digg'd iby heart out. 

Mont. In requital of 
That savage purpose, I must pity you; 
Witness these tears, not tears of joy for conquest, 
Jjut of true sorrow for your misery. 
Live, O live, Cleremond, and, like a man, 
Make use of reason, as an exorcist 
To cast this devil out, that does abuse you ; 
This fiend of false atfeciion. 

CL;. Uill you not kill me? 
Y'ou are then more tyrannous than Leonora. 
An easy thrust will do it : you had ever 
A charitable hand ; do not deny me. 
For out old friendship's sake : no ! will't not be ? 
'J'heie are a thousand doors to let out life ; 
You keep not guard of all : and 1 shall find, 
i5y falling headlong from some rocky cliff. 
Poison, or fire, that long rest which your sword 
Discourteously denies me. \_ExiU 

Mont. 1 will follow ; 
And something 1 must fancy, to dissuade Lim 
From doing sudden violence on himself: 
That's now my only aim; and that to me. 
Succeeding well, is a true victory. 

SCENE in. — Paris. An outer Room in Chamont's 

House. 

Enter Ciiamont disguised, and Dinant. 

Din. Your lady tempted too ! 

Cham. And tempted home; 
Summon'd to parley, the fort almost yielded. 
Had not I stepp'd in to remove the siege : 
But I have countermined his works, and if 
You second me, will blow the letcher up, 
And laugh to see him caper. 

Din. Any thing : 
Command me as your servant, to join with you ; 
All ways are honest we take, to revenge us 
On these lascivious monkeys of the court. 
That make it their [irofession to dishonour 
Grave citizens' wives ; nay, those of higher rank. 
As 'tis, in your's, apparent. Mv young rambler 
That thougiit to cheat me with a feign'd disease, 
I have in the toil already ; I have given hini. 
Under preience to make him high and aciive, 
A cooler : — I dare warrant it will yield 
Rare s])ort to see it work : I would your lordship 
Could be a spectator. 

Chum. It IS that 1 aim at: 
And might 1 but persuade you to dispensu 
A little with your candour*, and consent 

* Viz. honoai'. S'ee the Guardian, Acl iii. Sc. 1. 



164 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act IV 



To make your liouse tlie stas^e, on which we'll act 
A comic scene ; in the pride of all their hopes, 
We'll show these shallow fools sunk-eyed despair. 
And triumph in their j)unishinent. 

Din. iMv liouse, 
Or whatsoever else is mine, shall serve 
As properties 1o grace it. 

Cham. In this shape*, then, 
Leave me to work the rest. 

Din, Doubt not, my lord, 
You shall find all things ready. ££xi(. 

Enter PEaiGOT. 

Cham. This sorts well 
With my other j)urposes. Perigot ! to ray wish. 
Aid me, invention ! 

Peri. Is the (|uean fallen oif ? 
I hear not from her : — 'tis the hour and place, 
That she appointed. 

What haie we here? This fellow has a pimp's 
face. 

And looks as if he were her call, her fetch 

Witli me ? 

Chum.. Sir, from the party. 
The ladv vou should truck with, the lord's wife 
Your worship is to dub, or to make free 
Of the company of the horners. 

Peri. Fair Lnniira ? 

Cham. Tlie same, sir. 

Peri. And how, niv honest squire o'damesfl I see 
Thou art of her privv council. 

Cham. Her grdiit liolds, sir. 

Peri. O rare! But when! 

Cham. M irry, instantly. 

Peri. But where ? . 

Chum. Slie hath outoone the cunning of a woman. 
In ordering it botli privately and securely: 
You know Diuaut the doctor] 

Peri. Good. 
, Cham. His house 

And him she has made at her devotion, sir. 
Nay, wonder not ; most of these empirics 
Thrive better by connivance in such cases. 
Than their lame |)ractice : framing- some distemper, 
The fool, her lord 

Peri. Lords may be what they please ; 
I question not their patent. 

Cham. Hath consented. 
That this night, privately, she shall take a clyster ; 
Which he believes the doctor ministers. 
And never thinks of you. 

Peri. A good weiicli still. 

Cham. And there, without suspicion 

Peri. Excellent I 
I make tiiis lord my cuckold. 

Cham. True, and write 
The reverend drudging- doctor, mycopartner 
And fellow bawd : next year we will have him war- 
Of our society. [den 

Peri. There ! there ! I shall burst, 
I am so swollen with pleasure ; no more talking^, 
Dear keeper of the vaulting- doorj ; lead on. 



• Cham. In this sliape, then,] i. e. the disguise which he 
had assumed. 

+ A7id 7inw, my honeit squire o' dames?] See The Emperor 
(\f the East. 

i Dear keeper of tlie vanUing door ;] To keep the door, 
was one of tlie thousand synonyiiie:i of a bawd or pander. 
To this ihe distracted Othello alludes in his passionate speech 
tb Emilia: 



Cham. Charge you as boldly, 

Peri. Do not fear ; I have 
A start" to taint, and bravely*. 

Chum. Save the sj)liiiters, 
If it break in the encounter. 

Peri. Witty rascal! 



\^Exeu7U. 



SCF.NE lY.— A Room in Bellisant's House. 
Enter Clarindore, Bellisant, and Beaupre. 

CLirin. Boast of your favours, raadjim ! 

Bell. Pardon, sir. 
My feai-s, since it is grown a E^eneral custom. 
In our hot youth to keep a catalogue 
Of conquests this way got ; nor do they thii-.k 
Their victory complete, unless tbev ])ubli~h. 
To their disgrace, that are made cajnives to them. 
How far they have prevail'd. 

Cliirin. I would have such rascals 
First gelded, and then hang'd. 

Bell. Remember too, sir. 
To what extremities your love had brought you ; 
And since 1 saved your life, I may, with justice. 
By silence charge you to preserve mine honour; 
Which, howsoever to my conscious self 
I am tainted, foully tainted, to the world 
I am free (rom all suspicion. 

Clarin. Can you think 
I'll do myself that wrong? although I had 
A lawyer's mercenary tongue, still moving, 
- - - -le this i)recious carctmet, these jewels, 

of your magnificence, would keep me 
A Pythagorean, and ever silent. 
No, rest secure, sweet ladv ; and excuse 
]My sudden and abrupt departure from you : 
And if the fault makes forfeit of your grace, 
A quick return shall i-ansoin and redeem it. 

Bell. Be mindful of your o-atlis. 

l^Walks aside icith Beaup^i. 

Clarin. I am got off, 
And leave the memory of them behind me. 
Now, if I can find out my scoffing gulls, 
Novall and Pevigot, besides my wager. 
Which is already sure, I shall return 
Their bitter jests, and wound them with my tongue. 
Much deey)er than my sword. Oh ! but the oaths 
I have made to the contrary, and her credit. 
Of which 1 should be tender: — tush ! both hold 
With me an equal value. The wise say, 



" — you, mistress, 

That have t'le office opposite to Saint Peter, 
And lirep thf. yate «( hell !" 

• Peri. Do not fear ; J have 

A staff to taint, and bravely.] This is a very nnconimoii 
■word in its picM-nt application; nor can I be certain that 1 
comprehend its precise meaning. To break a statt or spear, 
in Ihe Idts and toMrnanienlsof onr ancestors, was an honour- 
able achievement; but then (as appears from " the On I i nances 
made by 'he Karl of Worcester, constable of Entl.ind in H(i6, 
and renewed in ! 50-2") it was to be done in a pariicul.ir manner, 
and " as it ons^lit to bee broken." How a spear oiii;ht to lie 
broken, Js not said; nor was the information pcih.ip* neces- 
sary at the time. It seems, however, that it should be as 
near the midille as possible ; for, if it were vviiliin a fool of 
the coronel or extremity, it was then " to be a.ljuiU'ed as no 
speare broken, but a fayre attaynt." Nvya: Antiquai, Vol. 
I. p. 4. I meet with the word in Every Man Out of hii 
Humour, tlie only place, with the exception of the work 1 
have j'isl ()iioted, where I ever recollict to have seen it: 
and there, loo, it is used in a deios;atoiy sense, " He ha.s a 
gooil riding (ace, and he can sit a horse well; he will taint 
a statt well at tilt." 



SciJXE v.] 



TiiK parliai\ii:nt of love. 



165 



That tlie whole fabric of a woman's lighter 
Than wind or featlier.s : what is then her fame! 
A kind of notliiui;- ;— not to be preserved [trine, 

With the k).ss of so much money :— 'tis sound doc- 
And I will follort- it. [Exit. 

Bell. Prithee, be not doubtful; 
Let the wild colt run his course. 

Beau. J must confess 
I cannot sound the depth of what you purpose, 
But I much fear 

Bell. That l>e will blab ; I know it. 
And that a secret scalds him : that he suffers 
Till he ha'h vented what I seem to wish 
He should conceai ; — but let him, 1 am arm'd for't. 

[_Eieunt, 

SCENE V. — A Room in Din ant's House. 

Enter Chamont, Dinant, Lamira, Clarinda, and 

Servants. 

Cham. For Perigot, he's in the toil, ne'er doubt it. 
O, bad vou seen how liis veins swell'd with lust, 
When I brought him to the chamber! how he 

gloried. 
And St' etch'd his limbs, preparing them for action ; 
And taking me to be a ]iander, told me 
'Twas more delight to have a lord his cuckold. 
Than to enjoy mv lady l-^-tliere I left him 
In contemplation, greedily expecting 
Lamira's presence ; but, instead of her, 

I have pre])ared him other visitants. 

You know what you have to .do { 

1 Sen. Fear not, my lord, 

He shall curvet. 1 warrant him, in a blanket. 

2 Ser. We'll discipline him with dog whips, and 
take off 

His rampant edge. 

Cham. His life; save that — remember 
You cannot be too cruel. 

Din. For his Jiupil, 
My wife's inamorato, if cold weeds. 
Removed but one c^gr«e from deadly poison, 
Have not forgot their certuin operation. 
You shall see his courage cool'd ; and in that temper, 
Till he have bowl'd himself into my pardon, 
I vow to keep him. 

Nov. [uidiiii.] Ho, doctor ! master doctor ! 

Din. I he game's afoot, we will let slip : conceal 
Yourselves a little. [They retire. 

Enter Novall. 

Nov. Oh ! a thousand agues 
Play at barley-break in my bones ; my blood's a pool 
On the sudden frozen, and the icicles 
Cut every vein : 'tis here, there, every \^ere ; 
Oh dear, dear, master doctor ! 

Din. 1 must seeip 
Not to understand him ; 'twill increase his torture. 
How do you, sir ! has the potion wrought? do you 
An alteration ! have your swellings left you ] [feel 
Is your blood still rebellious? 

Nov. Oh, good doctor, 
I am a ghost, I have nor flesh, nor blood, 
Nor heat, nor warmth, about me. 

Din. Do not dissemble ; 
I know y<iu are high and jovial. 

Nov, Jovial, doctor ! 
No, I am all amort, as if I had lain 
Three days in my grave already. 



Oil,. I will'raise you : 
For, look vou, sir, you are a liberal j>atient, 
Nor must I, while you can be such, jiart with you j 
'lis aijaiiist the laws of our college. Pray you, 

mark me ; 
I have with curiosity consider'd 
Vour constitution to be hot and moist. 
And that at your nativity Jupiter 
And Venii-i were in conjunction, whence it follows, 
By neces-ary consequence, you musi be 
A m'>st insatiate lecher. 

AW Oh ! I have been, 
I have been, I confess : but now I cannot 
Think of a woman. 

Din. For your health you must, sir, 
Bitli think, and see, and touch; you'.e but a dead 
man else. 

Nov. I hat way I am already. 

!)i-i. You must take. 
And suddenly, ('tis a conceal'd receipt,) 
A buxom juicy wench. 

Nov. oil! 'twill n t down, sir; 
1 have no swallow for't. 

Din. Now, since 1 would . . 

Have the disease as private as the cure," 
( For "lis a secret,) I have wrought my wife 
To be both ])hysic and physician, 
To give vou ease : — will you walk to her? 

Nov. Oh ! doctor,- • 
I cannot stand ; in every sense about me 
I have the vialsy, but my tongue. 

iJin Nay then, 
You are obstinate, and refuse my gentle offer r 
Or else 'tis foolish modesty : — Come hither, 
Come, my Clarinda, 

Re-enter Clarinda. 

'tis not common courtesy ; 
Comfort the gentleman. 

Ntw. This is ten. times worse. 

Cham, [liithin.'] He does torment him rarely. 

Din. She is not coy, sir. 
What think you, is not this a pretty foot. 
And a clean instep? I will leave the calf 
For you to find and judge of : here's a hand too ; 
'Try it ; the palm is moist; the youthful blood 
Runs strong in every azure vein : the face too 
Ne'er knew the help of art ; and, all together, 
Mav serve the turn, after a long sea- voyage. 
For the captain's self. 

Nov. I am a swabber, doctor, 
A bldoiiless swabber; have not strength enough 
To cleanse her poop. 

Din. Fie, you shame yourself. 
And the ))rofession of your rutting gdllanfs, 
1 hat hold their doctors' wives as free for them. 
As some of us do our apothecaries' ! 

Nov. Good sir, no more. 

Din. Take her aside ; cornute me ; 
T give you leave : what should a quacksalver, 
A fellow that does deal with drugs, as 1 do, ' 
That has not means to give her choice of gowns, 
Jewels, and rich embroidered petticoats. 
Do with so fair a bedfellow ? she being fashion'd 
To purge a rich heir's reins, to be the mistress 
Of a court gallant? Did you not tell her so ? 

Nov. I have betray 'd myself! 1 did, I did. 

Din. And that rich merchants, advocates, iu<i 
doctors, 
Howe'er deserving from the commonwealth. 



166. 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act IV 



On forfeit of the city's charter, were » 
Predestined cuckolds t 

I^ov. Oil, s6me pity, doctor ! 

I was iiii heretic, hut now converted. 
Some little, little resjjite ! 

Din. No, you town-bull ; 
. . - -venge all good men's wrongs, 
And now will play the tyrant. To dissect thee. 
Eat thy fle>h otf with burning corrosives, 
Or write with aquafortis in thy forehead, 
Tliy last intent to wrong my bed, were justice ; 
And t<i do less were foolish pity in me; 
i speak it, ribald I 

Nov. Perigot ! Perigot ! 
Woe to thy cursed counsel. 

Re-enter Chamont and Lamira» 
Chtt7n. Perigot ! 

id he advise you to this course ? 
\nv. He did. 

'"ham. And he has his reward for't. 
■\ri. [within.^ Will you murder me ? 
Serv. [within.] Once more, aloft with him. 
i^*eri. Iwithiii.] Murder! murder! murder! 

Enter Servants w;i(/t Pepigot in a blanket. 

Jhain. Wiiat conceal'dbake-meats have you there? 
« it goat's flesh ? It smells rank. [a present? 

1 Ser. We have had 
Sweet work of it, my lord. 

V Ser. I warrant you 'tis tender, 

II wiiutsno cooking; yet, if you think fit, 
We'll bruise it again. 

Peri. As you are Christians, spare me ! 
I am jelly within already, and without 
Embroidered all o'er with statute lace. 
What would you more ? 

AW. My tutor in the gin too ! 
'Ihis is some comfort : he is as good as drench'd ; 
And now we'll both be chaste. 

CJiam, What, is't a cat [so ? 

\ ou have encounter 'd, monsieur, you are scratch'd 
My lady, sure, forgot to pare her nails, 
Before your soft embraces. 

Uiu. He has ta'en great pains : 
What a sweat he's in! 

Cham. O ! he's a master-dancer, 
Know-; liow to caper into a lady's favour : 
One lotty trick more, dear monsieur. 

i\oij. I'hat I had [a dof , 

Hutstreugih enough to laugh at him ! blanketted like 
And like a cut-purse whipt! I am sure that now 
He cannot jeer me. 

Fcri. M ay not a man have leave 
To hang himself? 

Cham. No; that were too much mercy. 
Live to be wretched; live to be the talk 
Of the conduit, and the bakehouse*. I will have thee 
Pictured ;is thou art now, and thy whole story 
Sung to some villanous tune in a lewd ballad ; 
And male thee so notorious to the world, 
'Vhat boys in the streets shall hoot at thee : come, 

Lamira, 
And tiiumph o'er him. Dost thou see this lady, 
My wife, whose honour foolishly thou thought'st 



• Of the condait, aad the bakehouse.] Tliese, in the age of 
Massingir, weie the general reiide'iivoiia of gossips of both 
mxet (liey are still so, io most country tov^nt. 



To undermine and make a servant to 
Thy brutish lusts, laughing at thy affliction? 
And, as a sign she scorns thee, set her foot 
Upon thy head? Do so : — 'Sdeath ! but resist, 
Once more you caper. 

Peri. I am at the stake, 
And must endure it. 

Cham. Spurn him, too. 

Lam. Troth, sir, 
I do him too much grace. 

Cham. Now, as a schoolboy 
Does kiss .the rod that gave him chastisement. 
To prove thou art a slave, meet with thy lips 
'J'his instrument that corrects thee. 



Peri. Have you done yet? 



[look 



Din. How like a pair of crest-fallen jades the* 
Cla. They are not worth our scorn. 
Peri. O pupil, pupil ! [ther 

Nov. Tutor, I am drench'd : let us condole toge 
Cham. And where's the tickling itch now, my dear 
monsieur. 

To say, This lord's my cuckold ! I am tired : 

That we had fresh dog-s to hunt them ! 



Enter Ci.arindore. 



Clarin, 



- - - - I am acquainted with the story ; 
The doctor's man has told me all. 

Din. Upon them. [this 

Peri. Clarindore I worst of all : for him to know 
Is a second blanketting to me. 

Nou. 1 again 
Am drench'd to look upon him. 

Clarin. How is't ? nay, bear up ; 
You that commend adulterv. I am glad 
To see it thrive so well. Fie, Perigot ! 
Dejected ? Haply thou wouldst have us think, 
This is the first time that thou didst curvet. 
And come aloft in a blanket. By St. Dennis! 
Here are shrewd scratches too ; but nothing to 
A man of resolution, who.se shoulders 
Are of themselves armour of -prrfof, against 
A bastinado, and will tire ten beadles. 

Peri. Mock on ; know no mercy. 

Clarin. Thrifty young men ! 
What a charge is saved in wenching ! and 'tis timely — 
A certainwager of three thousand crowns 
Is lost, and must be paid, niv pair of puppies ; 
The coy dame Bellisant hath stoop'd ! Ifear witness 
This chain and jewels you have seen hep wear. 
The fellow, that her grooms kick'd down the stairs, 
Hath crept into her bed ; and, to assure you 
There's no deceit, she shall confess so much : 
I have enjoy 'd her. 

Cham. Ame you serious ? 

Clarin. Yes, and glory in it. 

Cham. Nay then, give over fooling. • 

Thou liest, and art a villain, a base villain. 
To slander her. 

Clarin. You are a lord, and that 
BJds me forbear you ; but I will make good 
Whatever I have said. 

Cham. I'll not lose time 
To change words with thee. The king hath ordain'd 
A Parliament of Love to right her wrongs. 
To which I summon thee. [Erti> 

Clarin. Your worst: I care not. Farewell, 
babions ! [Fx^t. 



StTA£ I.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



t67 



Dill. Here was a sudden cliaiio^e! 
Niiv, voii must quit my house : sliog on, kind patient. 
And, as you like my jihysic, wlien you are 
Ruiupant i.gaiii, vou know 1 have ihat <wn cool you. 
Nay, monsieur Perioof, lielp your pupil off too, 
Your counsel brouglit him on. Ha ! no reply ? 



Are you struck dumb ? If you are wrong:'d, complain. 

Peii. We shall lind friends to right us. 

Din. And I justice, 
The cause being beard; I ask no more. Hence! 
vanish ! [£ji«m«1. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I.— A Court of Justice. 
Enter CiiAiMONT, Piiilamour, atid Lafort. 

Phil. Montrose slain ! and by Cleremond ! 

Cham, ''lis too true. 

l.uj. But wondrous strange that any difference, 
Especially of such a deadly nature, 
Sliould e'er divide so eminent a friendship. 

I'tiil. The miracle is greater, that a lady, 
His most devoted mistress, Leonora, 
Against tlie usual softness of her sex. 
Should wiili such violence and heat pursue 
Her amorous servant; since 1 am' inform'd 
That ho was a])j)rehended by her practice*. 
And, when he comes to trial for his life, 
Jihe'll rise up his accuser. 

Clidin So 'tis rumour'd ; 
And that's the motive that young Cleremond 
iVIiikes it his humble suit, to have his cause 
Decided in the^^i'arliament of Love ; 
l"ur lie ]iretends the bloody quarrel grew 
From grounds tliat claim a reference to that place : 
Nor fears he, if you grant him equal hearing, 
Hut, with unanswerable j)roof, to render 
1 he cruel Leonora tainted with 
A guilt beyond his. 

LiiJ. Tlie king is acquainted 
Already with the accident ; besides. 
He hat!) vouchsafed to read divers petitions 
Preferr'd on several causes ; one against 
Monsieur Diiiant, his doctor, by Novall; 
A second, m which madam Bellisant 
Complains 'gainst Clarindore; there is a bill too 
liiought in by Perigot, against your lordship; 
All which, in person, he resolves to hear, 
Then, as a judge, to censure. [_A Flourish within. 

Phil. See the form ! 
Choice music u.shers him. 

Cham. Let us meet the troop, 
And mi.\ with them. 

Phil. Twill poise yoiA: expectation. \_Exeuiit. 

Loud music. -Euter Cuatiies, followfd by Orleans, 
Nemou.rs, Chamont, Lafort, and Philamouu: 
A Priest uiih the imuge of Cupid: then enter 

Cl KRKMOND, Cl.ARINDOriE, PeRIGOT, NoVAI.I,, 

Bei.lisant, Leonoha, Beaupiie, Lamira, Cla- 
niNDA, and Officers. Mom rose is brought forward 
on a bier, and "placed bejoie the bar. . 
Char. Let it not seem a wonder, nor beget 



• That he was apprehended by Tier practice,] i. c. by hci 
arlit'icf. 'lliis word is Irtqiieiilly louiiil in Massiiiger and 
lii» cuntoniporariis, in tlie sense ut an in^i(lions irirk, or 
^l^\^ta!;^■lM. Tlie inciileiil of Ltoiiora instigating her luvci' to 
miinkr his fiiend, anil then sunendeiing him to justice, is 
Jerivtd Willi joine variatiuus frjui Marstou's Dutch Cour- 
ttfan. 



An ill opinion in this fair assembly' 

'i'hat here I jilace this statue ; 'tis not done, 

Upon the forleit of our grace, that you 

Should, with a superstitious reverence, 

Fall down and worship it: nor can it be 

Presumed, we hope, young Charles, that justly holds 

The honour'd title of most Christian king. 

Would ever nourish such idolatrous thought.s, 

' 1 is rather to instruct deceived mankind. 

How much pure#Dve, that has his birth in heaven. 

And scorns to be received a guest, but in 

A noble heart ]irepared to entertain him, 

Is, by the gross misprision of weak men, 

Abused and injured. That celestial fire. 

Which hieroglvpliically is described 

In this his bow, his (|uiver, and his torch. 

First warm'd their bloods, and after gave a name 

Jo the old heroic spirits : such' as Orpheus, 

That drew men, ditfering little then from beasts. 

To civil government; or famed Alcides, 

'I'he tyrant-queller, that refu-ed the plain 

And easy path, leading to vicious pleasures, 

And ending in a precipice deep as hell, 

To scale the ragged cliff, on whose linn top 

Virtue and honour, crown'd with wreaths of stars. 

Did sit triumphant. But it will be answer'd, 

(The world decaying in her strength,) that now ■ 

We are not equal to those ancient times. 

And therefore 'twere impertinent and tedious 

i'o cite more precedents of that reverend age, 

But rather to endeavour, as we purjiose. 

To give encouragement, by reward, to such 

As with their best nerves imitate that old goodness; 

And with severe corrnction, to reform _ 

The modern vices. — Begin ; read the bills. 

Peri. Let mine be first, my lord, 'twas first pre- 
t ferr'd. 

Bell. But till my cause be heard, our whole sex 
suffers. 

Off. Back ! keep back, there ! 

A'-oc. Prithee, gentle officer. 
Handle me gingerly, or I fall to pieces, 
Before I can plead mine. 

Peri. 1 am bruised - - - % 

Omnes. Justice! justice! 

Cfiar. Forbe-.ir these clamours, you shall all 1)6 
And, to contirm 1 am no partial judge, heard: 

By lottery decide it*; here's no favour. 

Whose bill is first, Lafort? [The names are4rawn, 

Lqf. 'Tis Cleremond's. 

Chur. The second 7 
af. Perigot's ; the third, No vall's. 

A'tw. Our cases are both lamentable, tutor. 

• Jit/ ^otWry decide it ;• By drawing lots. So Shakspeare J 
" Let high-sited tjraniiy range on, • 

Till each man drup by lottery." Julim Cmtar. 



1R8 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Acr V 



Peri. And I am crliul i hey sliall be heard together; 
We cannot stand asunder. 

Chir. What's the hist ! 

L(if. riie itijur'd ladv Bellisant's. 

Chiir. To tlie first, then ; and so proceed in order. 

Phil. Stand to tlie bur. [Cler. conies fo' ward. 

Leon. Speak, Cleremond, thy grief, as 1 will mine. 

Peri. A confident Imle pleiider ! were 1 in case, 
I would i^ive her a double tee. 

Nor, So would I, tu*or. 

Off. Silence ! silence ! • 

Cier. Should I rise up to plead my innocence, 
Tliouuh, with the favour of the court, I stood 
Acquitted to the world, v^^a, thoui;li tlie wounds 
Of niv dead friend, ( wliich, like so many mouths 
With bloody tonoues crv out aloud ai;ainst me,') 
By vour autiioritv, were closed ; yet liere, 
A not to be corrupted jud^e my conscience, 
Woulil not alone coiideinti me, but inflict 
Such linoering tortures on me, as the hangman, 
Though witty in his malice, could not equal. 
I therefore do confess a guilry cause. 
Touching the fact, and. uncom])eird, acknowledge 
Myself the instrument of a crime tfle sun. 
Hiding his face in a tliick mask.of ch uds, 
As frighted with the horror, durst not look on. 
But if vour laws with greater i-igour punish 
Such as invent a mischief, than the organs 
Bv wiioin 'tis put in act, (they truly being 
The first great wheels by which ihe les.ser move,) 
Then stand forth Leonora ; and I'll prove 
The white robe of my innocence tainted with 
But one bl.ick spot of guilt, anil even that one 
By tliy hand cast on me ; but thine, died o'er. 
Ten times in-grain in hell's most iigly colours. 

Leon. The fellow is distiacted : see how he raves ! 
Now as 1 live, if detestation of 
His baseness wouIr but give me leave, I should 
Begin to pity him. 

Cler. Frontless impudence, 
And not to be replied to ! Sir, to you. 
And these subordinate ininistets of yourself, 
I turn my speech : to her 1 do repent 
I e'er vouchsafed a syllable. My birih* 
Was noble as 'tis ancient, nor let i' relish 
Of arrogance, to say my father's care, 
With curiousness and cost, did train me up 
In all those liberal qualities that commend 
A gentleman : and when the tender dow>i 
Cpon my chin told me I was a man, 
I came to court ; there youth, ease, and example, ' 

Mp birth 



Woi noble at 'tis ancient, &c.] Sir H. Herbert (for 
Mr. Mrtloiie supposes llijs to be llie pres. n'alimi copy, ami 
to have leiiiaiiied in lii, liaiids), lus ulieii several liberties 
witli this pl.iy. In some plares, where the expressions 
appealed too tree, lie has diawn his pen tl rough them; 
|in olhtrs, ht; hafi strui k out lines, under the idea, perhaps, 
»o«' compiessim; the ?eii>e, kindly supplyiiit; a connecting 
word or two from his own stores; a'ld in others, he 
been content with including ilie objectionable passages 
belwien biackels. In the latter there is not much harm, 
but the lormer i.s a sore evil : lor as I do not deem very 
highly of Sir Henry's taste, nor iiifl.ed of his judgment, the 
eiide.iv<iurs to recover the genuine text from Ihe blot spread 
over it, has been attended wiili ,, very consideiable degree 
of trouhl. ; it has however, been gentrally successful. 

If I thonghi lh.it innovations, haz.irded without knowledge 
to direct tlieni, could be objects of curiosity, I would tive 
the reader this .speech as it stands in ihe new version: — but 
it is not worth liis care. I80.i. Subsequnit investigation 
enabled Mr. Gittoid, by cornparing the MS. wi.h the'ieco- 
»ered cjirrectel copy ot the DuUe of .Milan, to ascertain that 
ttie haotl-wiitiugof this play was Masainger's. 



First made ine feel the pleasing pains of love : 
And there I saw this woman ; saw, and loved her 
With more tlitin common ardour; for tlitit (icity, 
(Such our aftection makes him,) whose dread power 

- - - - the choicest arrow, beaded with 
Not loose but loval flames, which aiin'd at me 
Who came with greedy haste to meet the shaft, 

- - - -ng, that my captive Jieart was made 

- 1 ----- . Love's divine artillery, 

- - - - preserved - - - no rehition. 
But the shot made at her was not, like mine. 
Of gold, norof pale lead tliat breeds disdain; 
Cu]iid himself disclaims it: I think rather. 
As by the se(]uel 'twill appear, some fury 

From burning Ai heron snatcli'd a sulphur brand, 
1 liat smoak'd wilh hate, the parent of red muider. 
And threw it in her bosom. Pardon me, 
'I hough I dwell long upon the cause that did 
Produce such dire effects ; and, to omit. 
For your much ptitience' sake, the cunning trap 
In which she caught me, and, with horrid oaths. 
Embark 'd me in a sea of human blood, 
I come to the last jjcene 

Leon. 'I'is time ; for this 
Grows stale and tedious. 

CLer. When, I say, she had, 
To satisfy her fell rage, as a penance, 
Forced me to tins black deed, her vow, too, given. 
That I should marry her, and she conceal me ; 
When to her view 1 brought the slaughter'd body 
Of my dear friend, and labour'd with my tears 
To stir compunction in* her, aided too * 
By the sad object, which might witness for me, 
At what an over-rate 1 had made purchase 
Of her Icing-wish'd embraces ; tlien, great sir, — 
But that I had a mother, and there may be 
Some two or three of her - - - sex less faulty, 
I should affirm she was tlie perfect image 
Of the devil, her tutor, that had left hell empty 
To dwell in wicked woman. 

Leon. Do ; rail on. 

Cler. For not alone she gloried in my sufferings. 
Forswore what she had vow'd. refused to touch me, 
Much less to comfort me, or give me harbour ; 
But, instantly, ere 1 could recollect 
My .scatter'd sense, betray 'd me to your justice, 
Which I submit to ; hoping, in your wisdom, 
That as, in me, you lop a limb of murder. 
You will, in her, grub up the root. I have said, sir. 

Leon. Much, I confess, but much to little purposew 
And though, with your rhetorical flourishes. 
You strive to gild a rotten cause, the touch 
Of reason, fortified by triitli, deliver'd 
From my unletter'd tongue, 'shall shew it dust ; 
And so to be contemn'd ; you have trimm'd up 
All your deservings, should I grant them such. 
With more care than a maiden of threescore 
Does hide her.wrinkles, which, if she encounter 
The rain, the wind, or sun, the paint wasli'd off. 
Are to dim eyes discover'd. I forbear 
1"he application, and in a plain styla 
Come roundly to the matter, 'i'is confess'd. 
This pretty, handsome, gentleman, (for thieves 
Led to the gallows are held proper men. 
And so I now will call hira,) would ii^eds make me 
The mistress of his thoughts ; r.or did^ scorn, 
For truth is truth, to grace him as a servant. 
Nay, he took pretty ways to win me too, 
For a court novice ; every year I was 



SCENK I.] 



THK PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



169 



His Viilentine, and in an aiiagjram, 

My name worn in liis liut ; lie made me«banquets, 

As if li<^ iliouglit that hidies, like to flies, 

Were to hecauglit with sweetmeats; (|uarreird with 

Mv t:ii!or. ifmv <j-own were not the first 

Of that edition ; beat my shoemaker, 

If the least wrinkle on my feoi appear'd. 

As wroniiino: the [iroportion; and, in time, 

Grew hohier, usher'd me to masks, and - • - 

Or else paid him (hat wrote them ; - - - 

With such a deal of p- - - - - - 

And of good rank, are taken with such gambols; 
In a word, I was so; and a solemn contract 
Did jKi^s betwixt us ; and the day appointed, 
That hlinuhi make our embraces warrantable. 
And lawful to the world : all things so carried, 
As he meant nought but honourable love. 
Cb'ir. A pretty method. 

Phii. Quaintly, too, deliver'd. [gave proof 

Leon. Hut, when he thought me sure, lie then 
Tliat foul lust lurk'd in the fair shape of love; 
For valuittg neither laws divine nor human. 
His credit, nor my fame, with violence born 
On black-saird wings of loose and base desires, 
As if his natural parts liad qui'e forsook him, 
And that the pleasures of tlie marriage hid 
Were to be reap'd with no more ceremony 
Tlian brute beasts couple, — I yet blush to speak it. 
He tempted me to yield my honour up 
To his libidinous twines ; and, like an atheist, 
Scoff'd at tlie form and orders of the church ; 
Nor ended so, but, being hy.ine reproved, 
He otl'er'd vrolence, but was'prevented. 
Chiir. Note#a sudden change. 
!.(//' ''I'was foul in Cleremond. 
Lenu. I, iHirniiig then with a most virtuous anger. 
Razed from my heart the inemorv of his name, 
Revihd, and spit at him; and kiiew,''twas justice 
That 1 should take those deities he scorn 'd, 
Hvinen and Cupid, into mv.jirntectioii. 
And he the instrument of their revenge : 
And so I cast him otf, scorii'd his suhmission. 
His jioor and childish whinings. will'd my servants 
To shut my gates against him : but, when neither 
Disdain, hate, nor contempt, Could free me from 
His loathsome im|iortuiiities, (aijd fired tod 
To wreak mine injured honour,) 1 took gladly 
Advantage of his execrable oaths 
To undergo w hat penance 1 enjoin'd him ; 
Then, to the terror of all future ribalds. 
That make no difference between love and lust, 
Imjiosed this task upon him. 1 have said, too : 
Now, when vou please, a censure. 

Char. She has put 
The judges to their whisp€r. . [tutor? 

j\'<ti . What do vou think of these proceedings, 
Pe'i. The truth is, 
I like not tlie severity of the court ; 
Would I were (|uit, and in an hospital, 
I could let fall tny suit ! 

iViir. 'lis still your counsel. 
Char. We are resolved, and with an equal hand 
Will hold the scale of justice ; pity shall not 
Kob us of strength and will to draw her sword. 
Nor passion transport us : let a priest 
And h'.adsraim be in read,iness ; — do you start 
To hear tlienP named ! Some little pause we grant 

vou, 
'1 e taUo txamination of yourselves. 
What either of you have deserved, and why 



These instruments of our power are now thought 
useful : 

You shall hear more, anon. • 

Cler. I like not this. 
Leon. A dreadful preparation! I confess 
It shakes my confidence. 

CLarin. 1 presumed this court 
Had been in sport erected ; hut now find, 
With sorrow to the strongest hopes I built on, 
That 'tis not safe to be the subject of 
The - - -» of kings, 

(New Speaker) To the second cause. 
Lnf. - - ' - Perigot's. 
A'or. Nav, take me along too ; 
And, since that our comj)laints differ not much. 
Dispatch us both together. I accuse 
1 his devilish elector. 

Peri. I this wicked lord. 
Kov. 'Tis known I was an able, lusty man, 
Fit to get soldiers lo serve my king 
And country in the wars ; and howsoever 
'Tis said I am not valiant of myself, 
I was a striker, one that could strike home too; 
And never <lid beget a girl, though drunk. 
To make this good, I could produce brave boys, 
That others father, twigs of mine own grafting, 
That loved a drum at four, and ere full ten. 
Fought battles i'or the parish they were born in: 
And such bv-blows, old stories say, still proved 
Fortunate cajitaius : now whereas in justice, 
1 should have had a pension from the state 
For mv good service, this ungrateful doctor. 
Having no child, and never like to have one, 
Hecause in pity to his barrenness, 
I plotted how to help iiim to an heir. 
Has, with a drench, so far disabled me,' 
That the great Turk may trust me with his virgins, 
And never use a surgeon. Now consider, 
If this be not hard measure, and a wrong to 
Little Dan Cupid, if he be the god 
Of coupling, as 'tis said ; and will undo. 
If you give way to this, all younger brothers 
That carry their revenue in their breeches. 
Have 1 not n.ck'd it, tutor? 

Peri. To a hair, boy : 
Our bills shall pass, ne'er fear it. For my ca;se, 
It is the same, sir ; my intent as noble 
As was my pu]iil's. 

Cham. Plead it not again, then : 
It takes much from the dignity of the court 
But to give audience to such things as these, 
That do in their defence, condemn themselves. 
And need not an accuser. , To be short, sir. 
And in a language as far from obsceneness, 
As the foul cause will give me leave, be pleased 
To know thus much : This hungry pair of flesh-fliea^ 
And most inseparable pair of coxcombs. 
Though born of divers mothers, twins in baseness,'' 
Were Irequent at my table, had free welcome. 
And entertainment fit for better men ; 
In the return of w liich, this thankful monsieur 
Tempted my wife, seduced her, at the least 
To him it did apjiear so ; which discover'u. 
And with what treacheries he did abuse 
My bounties, treading underneath his feet 
All due respect of hospitable rights. 
Or the honour of mv family ; though the intent 
Deserved a stab, and at the holy altar, 
I borrow'd so much of your power to right me. 
As to make him caper. 



170 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE. 



[Act. V 



Dm For this ofallant, sir, 
I do confess I cool'd Iiim. spoil'd his rambling; 
Would all such as deli5>lit in it, were served ^o ! 
And >ince you are aci|uainted jvith the motives 
That did induce me to it, I forbear 
A needless repetition. 

Chiim. 'Tis not worth it. 
The criminal judge is fitter to take - - - 
Of pleas of this base nature. Be - - - - 
An injured lady, for whose wrong . - - . 
I see the statue of the p;od of love 
Drop down tears of compassion, his'sad mother, 
And fair-cheek 'd Graces, that attend on her, 
VVeeping' for company, as if that all 
Tiie ornaments upon the Paphi-.m shrine 
Were, with one gripe, hv sacrilegious hands. 
Torn from the holy altar: 'tis a cause, sir, 
That justly niav exact vour best attention ; 
Which if you truly understand and censure, 
You not alone shall right the present times. 
But bind posterity to be your debtor. 
Stand forth, dear madam : — 

[BeUisant comes forward. 
Look upon this face. 
Examine every feature and proportion, • 
And you with me must grant, this rare piece finish'd. 
Nature, despairing e'er to make the like. 
Brake suddenly the mould in which 'twas fashion il. 
Yet, to increase your pity, and call on 
Your justice with severity, this fair outside 
Was but the cover of a fairer mind. , 

Think, then, what punishment he must deserve. 
And justly sutler, that could arm his heart 
With such imjienetrable flinty hardness. 
To injure so much sweetness. 

Cliirin. I must stand 
The furv of this tempest, which already 
Sings in my ears. 

Bell. Great sir, the too much praise 
This lord, my guardian nnce, has sliower'd uponme, 
Could not hut spring up blushes in my cheeks, 
If grief had left me blood enough to speak 
!\iy humble modesty : and so far I am 
From being litigious, that though I were robb'd 
Of my whole estate, provided my fair name 
Had heen un wounded, I had now been silent. 
But since the wrongs I undergo, if smother'd, 
Would injure otir whole sex, I rau«t lay by 
My native bashfulness, and put on boldness. 
Fit to encounter with the impudence 
Of this bad rtian, that from his birth ha'h been / 

So far from nourishing an honest thought, 
That the abuse of virgins was his study. 
And daily pract ce. His forsaking of 
His wife, distressed Beaupre : his lewd wager 
With these, companions like himself, to abuse me ; 
His desperate resolution, in my presence. 
To be his own assassin : to prevent which, 
Foolish compassion foi-ced me to surrender 
The life of life, my honour, I pass over : 
I'll only touch his I'oul ingratitude. 
To scourge which monster, if your laws provide not 
A punishment with rigour, they are useless : 
Or if the sword, the gallows, or the wheel. 
Be due to such as >poil us of our goods ; 
Perillus' br.izen bull, the English "rack, 
'Ihe German pincers, or the Scotch (.il'd boots, 
■['hough jnin'd together, yet come short of tortu'-e. 
To their full merit, those accursed wretches. 
That steal our reputations and good names. 



As this base villain has done mine: — Forgive me. 
If rage pr.)v^ke me to uncivil language ; 
The cause requires it. Was it not enough 
That, to preserve thy life, I lost my honour, 

- - - - in recompense of such a gift 

- - - . - publish it to my disgrace ? 

- . - - . - whose means, unfortunate I, 
Whom, but of bite,- the city, nay all France, 
Durst bring in opposition jor chaste life. 

With any woman in the Christian world. 
Am now become a by-word and a scorn. 
In mine own country. 

Char. As I Jive, she inoveS me. 
Is this true, Clarindore? 

Nov. Oh ! 'tis very true, sir ; 
He bragg'd of it to me. 

Peri. And me: 
Nay, since we must be'censured, we'll give evidence ■ 
' lis comfort to liave fellows in affliction : 
You shall not 'scape, tine monsieur. 

Clarin Peace, you dog-bolts! 
Sir, I address mvself to you, and hope 
You have jireserved one ear for my defence, 
'J"he other freely given to my accuser: 
This lady, that coaiplains of injury, 
If she have any, was herself the cause 
That brought it to her ; for being young, and rich. 
And fair too, as you see, and from tiiat jiroiid. 
She boasted of her strength, as if it were not 
In the power of love to undeimine the fort 
On which her chastity was s'rongly raised: 
I, that was bred a courtier, and served 
Almost my whole life under Cupid's ensigns. 
Could not, injustice, but interpret this 
As an affront to the great god of love. 
And all his follower-, if she were not brought 
To due obedience : these strong reasons, sir, 
MaTle me to undertake her. How 1 woo'd 
Or what 1 swore, it skills* not ; (since 'lis said. 
And truly, Jupiter and Venus smile 
At lovers' per|uries ;) to be brief, she yielded. 
And I enjoy !d her: if this be a crime. 
And all such as offend this pleasant way 
Are to be punish'd, I am sure you would have 
Few followers in the court : you are young yourself 

sir.' 
And what would you in such a cause 1 

Laf. Forbear. 

Phil. You aie rude and insolent. 

Clarin. Good words, gentle judges. 
I have no oil'd tongue ; and I hope my bluntness 
Will not oflend. 

Chan But did you boast your conquest 
Got on this lady ? 

Clarin. After victory ; 
A little glory in a soldier's mouth . 
Is not uncomely ; love Jaeing a kind of war too : 
And what I did achieve, was full of labour 
As his that wins strong towns, and merits triumphs 
I thought it could not but take from- my honour, 
( Besides the wager of three thousand crowns 
Made sure b)- her confession of my service,) 
If it had been conceal'd. 

Char. Who would have thought 
That such an impudence could e'er have harbour 
In the lieart of any gentleman? In this, 
Thou dost degrade thyself of all thAonours 
'I'hy ancestors left thee, and, in thy base nature. 



• Jt skills not ;] It signifies not. 



Scene I.] 



THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVPL 



171 



Tis too apparent that thou art a peasant. 

Boast of a ladv's favours ! tliis confirms 

Thou art the captain of tliat - - - - 

That glory in tlieir sins, ai.d - - - - 

Willi name of courtship ; such as dare bely 

Great women's bounties, and. rej)ulsed and scorn'd. 

Commit adultery "itli their good ntwnes, 

And never toucii their persons. I aia sorry, 

For your sake, madam, that I cannot mate 

Such reparation for you in your honour 

As I desire : for, if I shoultl compel him 

To marrv you, it were to him a blessing, 

To you a punishment ; he being so unworthy : 

I therefore do resign my place to you ; 

Be your own judge •, whate'er vou shall determine. 

By mv crown. I'll see perform'd. 

CLirin. I am in a fine case. 
To stand at a woman's mercy. 
. Bell. Then thus, sir : 
I am not bloody, nor bent to revenge < 
And study his amendment, not bis ruin : 
Yet, since you have given up your power to me, 
For punishment, I do enjoin him to 
Marry this INIoor. 

Clarin. A devil i hang me rather. 
Char. It is not to be alter'd. 
Clarin. This is cruelty 
Beyond expression - - - - I liave a wife. 
Cham. Ay, too good for thee. View her well, 
And then, this varnish from her face wash'd off, 
Thou shalt find Beaupre. 
Cliirin. I'eau])re ! 
Bell. Yes, his wife, sir, 
But long by him with violence cast off: 
And in this shape she served me ; all my studies 
Aiming to make a fair atonement for her. 
To w hich your majesty may now constrain liim. 

Clarin. Itneedsnot; 1 receive her, and ask pardon 
Of her and you. 

Bell. On both our parts 'tis granted. 
This was your bedfellow, and fill'd your arms. 
When you thought you embraced me; 1 am yet 
.\ virgin ; nor had ever given consent. 
In mv cliaste house, to such a wanton passage, 
But that 1 knew that her desires were lawful, 
15ut now no more of personated passion : 
■Jhis is the man I loved, [pointing to the bier.'] that 

1 loved truly. 
However 1 dissembled ; and with him 
Dies all aft'ection in me. So, great sir. 
Resume your seat. 

Char. An unexpected issue. 
Which I rejoi.ce in ; would 'twere in our power 



To ujve a period to the rest, like this. 
And spare our heavy censure ! but the death 
Of good Montrose forbids it. Cleremond, 
I hou instantly shall marry Leonora; 
Which done, as suddenly thy head cut off. 
And corpse interr'd, upon thy grave I'll build 
A room of eight feet sqiinre, in which this lady, 
For punishment of her cruelty, shall die 
An anchoress. 

Leon. I do repent, and rather 
Will marry him, and forgive him. 

Clarin. Bind her to 
Her word, great sir ; Montrose lives ; this a Diet 
To catch this obstinate lady. ' 

Lean. I am glad 
To be so cheated. 

Mont, [rises from the bier."] - - . lady, 
- - ----- deceived; do not repent 

\'our good, opinion of me when thought dead. 
Nor let not my neglect to wait upon you, 
('onsidering what a business of import 
Diverted me, be thought unpardonable. 

Bell. For my part 'tis forgiven ; and thus I seal 

Char. Nor are we averse . 
To your desires ; may you live long and hapjiy ! 

Nor. Mercy to us, great sir. 

Peri. We will become 
Ch;iste and reformed men. 

Cham, and Din. We both are suitors. 
On this submission, for your pardon, sir. 

Char, Which we in part will grant; but, to deter 
Others, by their example, from pursuing 
Unlawful lusts, that tliink adul-cry 
A sport to be oft practised ; fix on them 
Two satyrs' heads ; and so, in capital letters 
Their foul intents writ on their breasts, we'll have 

- tliem 
Led thrice through Paris ; then, at the court gate 
To stand three hours, where Clarindore shall make 
His recantation for the injury 
Done to the Lady Beliisant ; and read 
A sharp invective, ending with a curse 
Against all such as boast of ladies' favours : 
Which donej both truly penitent, my doctor 
Shall use his best art to restore your strength, 
And render Perigot a perfect man. ' 
So break we up Love's Parliament, which., we hope, 
Being formirih intended, shall not meet with 
An ill construction ; and if then, fair ladies*, 
You please to approve it, we hope you'll invite 
Your friends to see it often with delight. 

\_Exeuiit\, 



* Jiiir ladies] AfUT tliis the 

mHtiii5ci'ipt adds, " and gracious >peclalors," wliicli, as a 
I'oolis-li iiittipolatioii, I liavc (lioppcd. 

t This I- a bcainilTil tVai;mc'iit, and is every where strongly 
marlied uitli Massin!i;f r's manner; the same natural flow ol 
poeny, tl e same ni.l'orced stincliue of liis lines, and ea.«y 
Jail 01 piiiiid ; the same loud iise*ol' mythohiay ; and, what 
is more convincin-; than alf ihe rest, llie same intimate and 
habitual lefereiice to his own ih^ughls and expressions else- 
where. I wish It coidd be added that tin re are ni> marks of 
licenlioii-ness: Ihe only consolali>in lor the uneasiness occa- 
sioned by it is, Ihal pioper puni-hments are at last inflictid 
on the oHVnders ; and we h.iil the moral, which aims at llie 
suppres-ion of " unl.iwlul Insls." 

As lo Ihe history connected with it, it is very slender: 
Charles t.dksol" 1ms coniviests in It ily ; but his chief business 
Is to decree " the Parliament of Love." Alter this he disap 



pears, and various gallantries take place, which arc only 
in<ant to create employment for Ihe court, and ate iuljudged 
by him in Ihe last act. 

'I"lie principal point of curiosity is the chivalrous inslitntion 
of courts, where "disdained lovers" and " wronsed ladies" 
might seek redress of amorou< grievances. And this is 
already enquired into by the Editor. 

The characters are lively and amusing: but in Montrose 
it seems lo have been Massingrr's intention to describe the 
uniied force of love and friendship. He is botli lofiy and 
tender, and possesses a sort of unconscious greatness, which 
shews itself in disinterested and magnanimous actions rather 
than in words. We tremble for liim in the conversation 
preceding the combat with Cleremond, and are at length 
made happy with the success of the device which inducer 
the reluctant Beliisant to confess her love. Dr. Ireland. 



THE EOMAN AOTOE. 

The Roman AcTon.] 'Jhis Tragedy was licensed by Sir li. Herbert, October lltli, 1626, and given te 
the ]<r^s in 16'29. 

The plot, is founded on tlie life of Domitian, as recorded by Suetonius, Dio, and others. Coxeter and 
Mr. M. .Ma-ion sav thiit tlie poet h;is be^i very true to history ; but they say it, as usual, without know- 
ledge : he lias, as' in The Duke of Milan, adopted a few leading- circumstances, and had recourse to his in. 
mention lor the rest. 

This Play ^vas successful in the representation ; and appears to have been well received by tlie critics of 
those times, since it is preceded by commendatory coi)ies of verses from Ford, Harvey, iMay, 'J'aylor, and 
others. 'J'avlor, nn admirable actor, who jdayed the part of Paris, calls it " the best of nv.uu good," and 
Massinger himself declares that " he ever held it as the most perfect birth of his Minerva*." The judgment 
of an author is not alvvavs to be tiiken U[ on his own works. He has his jartialities and his prejudices, and, 
like other parents, sees beauties which are not immediately apparent to an indifferent spectator. The Human 
Actr; thoui;h a very excellent piece, will scarcely be ranked at this day above The Unnatural Combat, The 
■Duhe oj MiliH, or The Bnndman. 

'J his i lagedy was revived by Betterton, who took for himself the part of Paris, in which he was highly 
celebrated. It was again brotight on the stage, with a few trifling alterations, in iTJ-^, but I know not 
with what success. I he old title page says, that it had been " divers times acted, with good allowance, at 
the private Play-house in the Black Friars, by the King's Majesty's servants." 



TO MV MUCH HONOVRED AND JIOST THUK FRIENDS, 

SIR PHILIP KNYVET, KNT. k BART. 

AND TO 

SIR THOMAS JEAY, KNT. 

/AND . • _ 

THOMAS BELLI NGH AM, ESQ. 

OF NEWTIMBER, IN SUSSE.K. 

How much I acknowledge myself bound for your so many, and extraordinary favours ponferrei! .ipon me, 
as far as it is in my power, posterity shall take notice ; I were most unworthy of such noble friencU, if I 
should not, with all thankfulness, professand own them. In the composition of this Tragedy you were my 
only sujiporters, and it being now by your principal encouragement to be turned into the world, it cannot 
walk safer than under vour protection. It hath been happy in the suffrage of some leanie<l und judicious 
gentlemen when it was ])resented, nor shall they find cause, I hojie, in the parusal, to repent them of their 
good opinion of it. If the gravity and height of ihf subject distaste such as are only affected with jigs and 
ribaldry, (as I presume it will,) their condemnation of me and my poem can no way offend me : my reason 
teaching me, such malicious and ignorant detractors deserve rather contempt than satisfaction. 1 ever held 
it the most perfect birth of my Minerva ; and tiieielore in justice offer it to those that have best deserved of 
me ; wlio. 1 hope, in their courteous acce^itance will render it worth their receiving, and ever, in their 
gentle construction of my imperfections, believe they may at their pleasure dispose of him, that is wholly 
and sincerely 

Devoted to their service, 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



• T(ii> iiiiicli ^tloss liHs been I.ikl on tlii? expression: it is proper, in adverthig to it, to consider how few dnimatic plecei 
Miissnii;ir ti.id pio<iuctil, «lieu it was U5e<l . 



Scene I.] 



TFIE ROMAN ACTOR. 



173 



DRAMATIS PERSON ^C 



DOMITIANUS Cff:sAn, 

Pahis, the Roman Actor, 

^■Euus Lamia, ^ 

Junius llusiicus, f 

r, c^ y senators, 

Palphurius !m'Ba, i 

Fui.ciN'ius, J 

Partiiexius, C .f.s\ns freeilman, 

ArETINUS, C/F.SAu's SjUV, 

SiEPiiANOst, DoMiTiLLA's/i-eedmin, 
jEsoih's 



Lai ixcs, 



■ phtiiers 



Actors' Names. 
J. Lowin*. 
J. Tavlor. 
T. P.'ilhmL 
Rob. Jjeiifiekl. 
W. Patricke. 

R. Sharpe. 
E. Swaiistone. 

R. H obi n son. 
C. Greville. 



AscLEiARio, an astrologer. 



Actors' Name*. 



PiiiiARCiu's. a rich miser; father to 

Pahtiienius, ' A. Smiih, 

Sejeius, . . G. A'eni-oni. 

ENTETXus.r""*'"™""-*' J. Horn.}. 

DoMiTiA, jr;7e o/' i^i urs Lamia, . J. 'J'ompson. 
DoMiTiLi. A, roiisin-genn lit to Ctsar. .L lluiiiiiemtin. 
Julia, duiigiiter of Iitus, W. Trijige. 

C*.N"is, \'isi'asian's coiiriibine, A. Gough. 

A LuJij. 

Tribunes, Lictors, Centurions, Soldiers, Hangmen, 
Servuats, Captives. 



SCENE, Rome. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — The Theatre. Enter Paris, Latinus, 
a>i(t /Esopus. 

JEiop. Wliat do we act to-day? 

Lot. Agave's I'Vc-nzv 
With Peiuhcus' Bloody End. 

Par. It skills not wliatij ; 
The times are dull, and all that we receive 
Will hardly satisfy the day's expense. 
The Greeks, to whom we owe tlie lirst invention 
Both oCthe buskin'd scene, and humble sock, 
That reij>n in every noble family. 
Declaim against us ; and our tlieatre||. 
Great Pompey's work, that hath given full delight 
Both to tlie eye and ear of fifty thousand 
Spectators in one'day, as if it were 
Some unknown desert, or great Rome unpeopled, 
Is quite ibrsakeii. 



• John r.owin, &c ] All that is known of V-U oxcfllcnt 
actor fas will ;is iiliisl ol those \vlii> f. How) ii collrcti il uiili 
great c;ne hy Mr. MjIoiic, .iikI iriMTlid in lii> Historical 
View of the EnijUsh Slaj/e : to wliiuli I retVr llio leailer. 

i Stephanos.] So iVI.itsinger spills \\U name; it should, 
however, be Stei.hanii.s. 

t G.iiri;e Vernon and James Hornc have no characters 
assigned ihein in the Ii»l ot' persons piestnte.l ; probably 
ttiey placed Sejeins and Rnli lliis, whose names have not 
hitherto been i;iven aniont; tlie dr-nialis persona;; thon^'li 
they appear in the second scene of ihe la.^t act. ^ 

j Phi. It skills not.] i. e. nutters not. So in The Custom 
of the Cimntry : 

Some pursue 

The murderer; yel if he 'scaiiejt sllil!s not ; 
Were I a prince, I would re\v:?f(l hiui for't." 

li and our theatre. 

Great Pompey's work, &c. The old copy rends amphi- 
theatre, for ul.ich I havf- taken ihe l.beriy to suhMitiile 
theatre. M,i^>jnner cnuld n<it be i':tiiu-.int that ihe fnnner 
was not " the W(uk of I'ompey ;" nor lli't a bnildiu" ap- 
propriateil solely to comb its of (>laili itiirs. will b.asts, &c., 
was not I ropeily adapted to the s.-eiijcal exhibitions of 
Paris and his associates. Not lo insist Ihal li.e trork for 
which Pomp-y was so celebrated, was a theatre, (as we 
learn IVoin T.icltiis and olhers,) I would ju-t oh-, rve, that 
the redundancy of the old reading liunishes no sliaht pmof 
that the contusion of tenris did not arise from the poet, but 
his transcriber. 

»jj^''''' ''fis^i'iKer says of the theatre, is applied by 
Addisot,, in his Letter from Rome, to He Coliseo:— 

" which unpeopled Home, 

And held uncrowded nalions in iis womb." 



Lat. Pleasures ofworse natures 
Are g-ladly enfe'tain'd; and they that shtin u.s, 
Practise, in jirivate, sjiorts the stews would blush at, 
A litter loriiH by eight Liburnian slaves, 
To buy disea-es from a glorious strumpet, 
The most censori<vus of our Roman gentry, 
Nay, of the guarded robe*, the senators 
Esteem nil ea-sv purcliase. 

Par. Vet grudge iisf, 
That «ith deliijht join jirofit, and endeavour 
To build their tiiind-; U|) fair, and on the stage 
Decipher to the li'e what honours wait 
On good and glorious actions, and tlie shame 
Tliat treads upon the heels of vice, the salary 
Of si.K sestertii. 

JF.sop. For the ]irofit, Paris. 
And mercenarv gain, they are things beneath us; 
Since, wicile you hold .your grace and power with 

Ceesar, 
We, from your bounty, find a large supply. 
Nor can one thought of want ever apyiroach us. 

Par. Our aim is glory, and to leave our names 
To afiertiine. 

Lat. And. would they give us leave. 
There ends all our ambition. 

JEion. We have enemies. 
And great ones too, 1 fear. 'Tis given out lately. 
The consul Aretiniis. Ca?sar'3 spy. 
Said at his table, ere a month expired, 
For being oair<l in nurlast comedy. 
He'd silence lis for ever. 

Par. I expect 
No fivour from him ; my strong Aventlne isj. 



* A'a.v, of the !;uaideil rohe.'\ i. e. the laced or bordered 
robe. — Ihe falii-lamis M. Maso>. 
t Paris ) rt -S'l'lreiis. 

That w'.lh deliytti join profit, &c.] Paris here applies, 
pleasantly eiioii;;h, U) himself, what was said of a vtry 
dirteient charoirr: 

Hos inter snvphis, sslerfia Quintiliarw 
I't iiiiittiim, duo siiffiiieitt. 
On Ihe whole, it is amusinu lo hear him talk in the high 
moral strain ot Seneca a'ul Juvenal. 

X my strong A\ciitine.] I scarcely 

know what is meant bj this uiic<Hiih expression. On thi( 
hill the aii-uries were u-ually taken, it may therefor* 



174 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Act I. 



That, great Doinitian, whom we oft have cheer'd 
In his most ^^llllell. moods, will once return, 
WIkj can lejiair, with ease, the CDnsiil's ruins. 

Lat. ' I is treijuentin the city*, he hath subdued 
Tlie Catti anil ilie Daci, and, ere long', 
The second tnae u ill enter Home in triumph. 

E"ter ruo Lictors. 
Par. Jove hasten it ! V\ iih us ! — I now believe 
The consul's threats, /Ksopus. 

1 Lict. Vou are siimmon"d 
To apjieur to-day in senate. 

2 Lict. And there to answer 
Wliat shall be ui-ged against you. 

Par. We obey vou. 
Nay, droop not, fellows ; innocence should be bold. 
We, tiiat liave jiersonated in the scene 
The ancient Jnroes, ami the falls of princes, 
Witli loud ajipl.iuse; being to act ourselves, 
Must do it with undaunted confidence. 
Whate'er our sentence be, lhin\ 'tis in s])ort : 
And.thougii ciindenm'd, let's hear it without sorrow, 
As if we were to live again to- i orrowf, 

1 Lict. 'J is sj)uken like 3'ourself. 

Enter ALlivs Lamia, Junius Rusncus, and 

J^Al-l'IlUllllS SiuKA. 

Lam. Whitlier goes Puns? 

1 IJct. He's cited to the senate. 

Lat. 1 am glad the state is 
So t'l-ee from matters of tnore weight and trouble, 
That it hai va. ant time to look on us. [king-s 

Pur. '1 hat reverend place, in which tlie ail'uirs of 
And provinces were deterinineil, to descend 
To the censure of a bitter word, or jest, 
Dro])p'd from a poet's jieii ! I'eace to your lordships ! 
We are glad that vou ate safe. 

[E.\ei(nt Lictors. Paris, Lntinus, and ^sopus. 

Lam. \\ liat tiii.es are these ! 
To what is Rome i'allen ! may we, being alone 
Speak our thoughts freely of the prince and state, 
And not fear the inibiiner I 

liitsi. Ndble i.ainia. 
So dang.erous the age is, and s-uch bad acts 
Are ])r;ictised every where, we hardly sleep. 
Nay, caimot dream, with saiety, AU our actions 
Are call'd in (juestioii : to be nuhly bora 
Is now a crime ; and to deserve too well. 
Held capital treason. Sons accuse their fathers, 
F.ithers their sons ; and, but to win a smile 
From one in grace at court, our chastest matrons 
Make shipv. nek of their honours. 'I'u be virtuous 
Is to be guilty. '1 hey are only safe 
That kiiow to soothe the prince's aj)petite, 
And ^erve. Iiis lusts. 

Suia. 'lis Inie; and "lis my wonder, 
Tliat t\\o sons of so ditlerent a nature [Titus, 

Should s[iriiig from good N'espasian. We had a 
Styled, justly, the delight of all mankind, 



Jignify, my sirt.iig lnri'boriiiii;?, or ovprclatioiis. Or it may 
mean (.IS ihc Avi'iiiiiic \^.t^ .1 posi di ^ll•^.■lly^ll; my security, 

Itiy (Itllli-r. 

• Lit. "lis fnqvimt in the ciiy] A L.iliiiism; 'tis com- 
mon, ilUli llll\ li|,.i;li il, itc 

^ As if we wne In l.vi- ai/ain to morrow.] This line is 
wliolly ..iniilii hy Mr. M. IxI.immi! I-., h ciilp:iblo iici^li- 
gencc, lliis " mium iucur.iic tJi eilimis" jdin.s j >.'ni>s iguo- 
■■aiicf lit hisliiiy. Hi- r.-.iil- i'l^i l)il,.\v. /.H/rr yElius, l.a- 
tnia, Julius linsliois, Faiiihurius. and .Snia! He li.is lu.t 
evtii ilio i\iii>f 111 liiiui iiii-.t(l li, C'o\ci(.i Iric, tur llie 
copiilMiivc liiiwicii P.ilpluLiiiis anil jjiud ii liis own in- 
feuiuus udditioii I 



Who did esteem that day lost in his life. 

In which some one or oilier tasted not 

Of ins magnilicent boun'ies ; — one tliat had 

A ready tear, when he was forced to sign 

The death of an oft'eiider ; and so far 

From ])ride, that he disdam'd not the converse 

Even of the ])Oorest Roman. 

Lam. \'et his brother, 
Domitian., tirat now swavs the power of things,*. 
Is so inclined to blood, that no day passes 
In which some are not fastened to the hook. 
Or thro-wndown from the (iemoniesf. His i'reedmea 
Scorn the iiobidty, and he himsttlf, 
As if he were not made of flesii and blood. 
Forgets he is a man. 

linst. In his young years, [ness: 

He sliow'd wliat he would he wlien grown to ripe- 
His greatest pleasure was, being a child. 
With a shar|i-poiiited bodkin to kill tlies, 
^Vhose rooms now men sujiply. For his escajie 
.In the \^itellian war, he raised a temple 
'J'o Jujjiter, and proudly jilaced his figure 
In the bosom of the god : and in his edicts 
He does not blush, or start, to style himself 
(As if the name of em])eror were base) 
Great Lord and God IJomitian. 

Sura. I have letters 
He's on his way to Rome, and purposes 
To enter witli all glory. The Hatteriiig senate 
Decrees Iiim divine honours ; and to cross it, 
Were death with studied torments : — for my i)art+, 
I will obey the lime ; it is in vain 
To strive against the torrent. 

Rust. Let's to the curia. 
And, though unwillingly, give our suffrages. 
Before we aiv conijiell'd. 

Lam. And since we cannot 
\\ illi safety use the active, let's make use of 
The j)assive fortitude,, with this assurance. 
That the state, sick in him, the gods to friend^. 
Though at the worst will now begin to mend. [ V.^eunU 

* Domitian, that now sways the powt r nf lliiii!;s,| A 
LaliiiinMi tor— Umi imw sways 'lie woilil. rerum potestas. 
t "r 1I1HAM1 (kiwii itoiii llie (ieiiionlcs.] 
For lliis pine ;iiiil cLis^kmI t.xprc.-sioii, the inuderii editors 
have fouli^llly ^ub^lllllll■(l, 

Or thrown J'roin the 'I'arpcian roch ! 
I say foulisid), b.c.inji, iniin lliiir iiupci liiifiit ;illci:.tion, 
tiny appear In t.il^u llic i.i.-linin!,' lo llic book, anil tin- lliiow- 
:ng Irnni the (iuinonns to be inmles ot e\ieciiljuM : wlieieas 
lliey «ere e\pie.-?iiinMit inili '.nily Id ilie snrterei (//'/ci- death. 
The (ieUi'Miies (.Scalw (innuiiidj was an abni|itaml iiii;'.;ed 
precipice mi tlie Avenijne where llie bi.dle- ol' sla'e cri- 
inin.ils wire llnni;, and Iroin wluiice, alter they lud been 
f.\pi)>ed to llie iliMills i)f the r.ibble, liny wi le dr..gL,ed to 
tlie Tiber, which Unwed at llie loi.t ol tlie hill. 

1 have already observed, that Massingir is <>i,ly kiiipwn to 
lliose who lead him in the tild editions, ande\ei_\ pai;e and 
every line I ex.iiiiine ol Coxeter and Mr. i\l. Mason, 
stiengliiens and coiilirms the ob>ervaii(iii. 

j J'or m;i part 

1 will obey the time ; it is in vain 

'Jo strive ayainst the torrent] Massin<:er has coii- 

foiinde<l li.e chrtiaclci- of Siua witi. lliat ot Lii.<piis. It is 

I neeilic.v.s, liowever, to dwell on sncli iiiaceiu.icFes, since 

none will eonsnli llie dramatic poet lor the true eli.nactcrs 

; ot those eventtiil times. In llie pieeedins; speech, lie lepre 

! sents Domiliaii asdt li>;hlin<,' •' to kills Hies in lis dil hood.'' 

i This is diiec ly in the lace ot lii-loiy. Siieioniiis sayf 

that he^('(/a« /lis rciyn with killing Hies. His clilUlhoo*' 

was biithciently innocent. 

§ the yods to friend,] i.e. <^VV ^EOtg, with 

tlie piotecti. II of heaven — a very coinnion e.spression in our 
old poets. 'Jims .Spenser: 

" So torward on liis way, with God to friend, 
He passed foitli'' 



Self*. II.] 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



■i7 



SCENF'^ II. — A Room in Lamia's House. 
Enter Domitia and Partiienius. 

Dom. 'I'o nie tins reverence ! 

Pufth. 1 pay it, ladv. 
As a del)t due to lier that's (^irsar's mistress: 
For understand with joy, he th.it commands 
All that the sua pve- warmth to, is your servant; 
Be not amazed, hat fit you to \our (bi-tunes. 
Ihinlv upon sta^e and greatness*, and the honours 
That wait upon Autru-sta. lor that name, 
Ere lon;^-. conies to you : — still you doubt youj- vassal ; 
But, wiien you've read this letter, writ and si^u'd 
With ids im[)erial hand, you will be freed 
From iear and Jeal >usy ; and, 1 besefch you, 
When all the beauties of the earth bow to you, 
And senators sir.ill take it for an honour. 
As I do now, to kiss these hippy feet ; 
Wlien f^ery smile vou give is a preferment, 
And vou dispose of provinces to yuur creatures, 
Think on Partiienius. 

Dom. I{is§. 1 am transported, 
And hardly dare believe what is assured here. 
The means, my good Partiienius, that wrought Caesar, 
Our god on earth, to ca ;t an eye of favour 
Upon his humble handmaid ? 

Partli. What, but your beauty ? 
Wlien nature framed you for her masterpiece. 
As the pure abstract of all rare in woman, 
She had no other ends but to design you 
To the most eminent place. 1 will not say 
(For it would smell of arrogance to insinuate 
The service I have done vou) with what zeal 
I oft have maiie relation of your virtues. 
Or how I've sung your goodness, or how Cajsar 
Was firetl with the relation of your story : 
I am rewarded in the act, and hapj)y 
In that my project pro^per'd. 

Dom. Vou are moilest : 
And were it in mv power, I would be thankful. 
If that, when I was mistress of myself. 
And, in my way of youth, pure viu[ untaintedt. 
The em]ieror had vouchsafed to seek my favours, 
I had with joy given up my virgin fort. 
At the first summons, to his soft embraces : 
But I am now anotlier's, not mine own. 
You know 1 have a husband : — for my honour, 
t would not be his strumpet, and how law 
Can be dispensed with to become his wife, 
To me's a riddle. 

Ptnth. I can soon resolve it : 
When power puts in his plea the laws are silenced. 
The world confesses one Rome, and one Ca;sar, 
And as his rule is infinite, his pleasures 
Are uncc^fined ; this syllable, his will, 
Stands for a thousand reasons. 

Dom. But witb safety. 
Suppose I should consent, how can I do it? 
My husband is a senator, of a temper' 
Not to be jested with. 

Enter Lamia. 
Parth. As if he durst 
Be Cajsar's rival! — here he comes: -with ease 
I will remove this scru])le. 



J /link upon slate and yrcatness !] Mr. M. Mhsoh foi.sts 
In llie .(iticiu bclure stale, wiiicli wt.iUeiis the cxi^rtssion, 
aiirl (tislroys tliL- iin-tie. 

+ A7ni, ill iiij way oi' youtli, pure and untainted, \ See a 
Very H onian. 



Liim. Flow! so private! 
My own house made a brothel' Sir, how c\nrst v u, 
Though guarded with your power in court au.i 

greatness. 
Hold conference with my wife ? As for you, nimion, 
I shall hereafter treat 

Piirth. You are rude and saucy, 
Nor know to whom vou speak. 

Lam. This is fine, i'faith ! 
Is she not my wife? 

Parlh. Your wife I But touch lier, t'hat respect 
forgDtten 
That's due to her whom mightiest Cresar t'avours, 
And think what 'tis to die. Not to lose time. 
She's Caesar's choice : it is sufficient honour 
You were his taster in this heavenly nectar j 
But now must i|uit the office. 

Lam. This is rare I 
Cannot a man be master of his wife 
Because she's young and fair, without a patent? 
I in my own house am an emperor, . [kruives? 
And will defend what's mine. Where are my 
If such an in>olence escape unpuiiish'd 

Pcirih. In yourself, Lamia, — Cxsar hath forgot 
To use liis power, and 1, his instrument. 
In whom, though absent, his authority speaks, 
Have lost my faculties I ■ [^iUimps. 

Enter a Centurion with Soldiers. 

Lam. The guard ! why, am I 
Design'd for death ! 

Dom. As vou desire my favour. 
Take not so rough a course. 

Parth. All your desires 
Are absolute commands. Yet give me leave 
To put the will of Caesar into act. 
Here's a bill of divorce between your lordship 
And this great lady : if you refuse to sign it. 
And so as if you did it uncumpell'd, 
Won to't by reasons that concern yourself, 
Her honour too untainted, here are clerks, 
Shall in vour best blond write it new, till torture 
Compel vou to perform it. 

Lam. is this legal* ? 

Parth. Monarchs that dare not do unlawful tilings. 
Yet bear them out, are constables, not kings. 
V\ ill you dispute? 

Lam. I know not what to urge 
Against myself, but too much dotage on her, 
Love, and observance, 

Parth. Set it under your hand, 
That you are impotent, and cannot pay 
The duties of a husband ; or, that you are mad; 
Rather than want just cause, we'll make you so. 
Dispatch, you know the danger else; — deliver it. 



• Lam. Ix this legal? 
Parlli. Monarchs, that dare not do i(ntawfiil things,] In 
Coxeter ami Mr. iM. Mason's cchlioiis these hues are thus 
primed : 

L.im. Is this le^alT 
New works that dare not, &c. 
On which the latler s.iys : " I on.-idiiieil this passai;e for 
some lime as inrtrievable, for there is a inislake mil only 
in Ihe words, bill in the person iiUo. lo «hoiii ihey are 
aitiihuted;" and lie piocerd.s witli i;rial eariieslijess and 
gravity lo reelil) ihe mistake. All this " roiisideralioh" 
might have bieii ^aved by a !;laiice at the old ri.|ries, which, 
read pnci ely as I have ijiveii it. Tfiie il is that Cuvelcr 
foiiml tlie nonsense ihcy have printed, in ihc (|iiaitii; but 
the error seems lo liave been quickly discovend and 
removed, since it occurs bnt in one of the numerous copiei 
wliich I have had occasion to consult. 



t76 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



fAcrX, 



Nav, on vour knee. Madam, you now are free. 
And mistress of vourself. 

Lam. Can vou, Domitia, 
Consent to tnis '. 

Dom. ' J'would ar^ue a base mind 
To live a servant, when I may command. 
I now am Caesar's : and yet, in respect 
I once was yours, when you come to the palace, 
Provided you deserve it in vour service, 
Vou shall find me your good mistress*. Wait me. 
And now farewell, poor Lamia. [Parthenius. 

[Eiei/n/ alL but Lamia. 

Liim. To the gods 
1 bena mv knees, (for tyranny hath banish'd 
Justice inim men.) and as tliev would deserve 
'Iheir alters, and our vows, humbly invoke them, 
That this niy ravish 'd wife may jirove as fatal 
To ]iroud Domitian, and her embraces 
Aftbrd him, in the end, as little joy 
As wanion Helen brought to him of Troy ! [Eiit. 



SCENE III. — The Senate-house. 

Enter Lictors, AnETiNus, FuiciMts, RusTicr." 

Sura, Paris, Laiinus, oHd i5£soPus. 

Aret. leathers conscriptt, may this our meeting be 
Happy to ( jesar and tiie common wealth ! 

Lict. Silence ! 

Jret. The purpose of this frequent senate 
Is first, to give thanks to the gods of Itome, 
riiat, for the j,ro]iagation of tlie empire, 
Vouchsafe us one lo govern it, like themselves. 
In Jieiglit of courage, dejith of understanding, 
And all those virtues, and remarkable graces, 
Which make a prince most eminent, our Domitian 
Transcends the ancient Homans : 1 can never 
Bring his ]iraise to a jieriod. \\ hat good man, 
That is a tiieiid to truth, dares make it doubiful. 
That he hath Fabius' staidness, and the courage 
Of bold iNIarcellus, to whom Hannibal gave 
The style of Target, and the Sword of Rome? 
But he has more, and everv touch more Roman ; 
As Pompey 's dignity, Augustus' state, 
Antohy's bounty, and great Julius" fortune, 
With Cato's resolution. I am lost 
In the ocean of his virtues : in a word. 
All excellencies of good men meet in him 
But no [)^rt of their vices. 

Rust. This is no flattery ! 

Sura. Take heed, you"ll be observed. 
♦ .4ret. 'lis tlien most tit 
lliat we, (as to the I'atlier of our country J, 
Like thankful sons, stand bound lo jray true service 
lor all ihose blessings that lie showers upon us,) 
Should not connive, and se« his government 
Depraved and scandalized by meaner men, 
That to his favour and indulgence owe 
'J'Lemselves and beinsi. 



• lou shall Jind me your good mJMres?.] Tli;it ij, yonr 
patroticsi. 'Jlu-- w;,^ il,u l^ngnage ol il.c tiin.s, and is 
irequt. llN f.M.i.d in ,.iir „|(1 «imis : it occur.- again in uie 
dedicafiun to / /,e Emperor of the East. 

i Airt. J-athers conscript, a.c.] ihis'wHS the ciislomary 
form ol on.ii.K tilt dibaiu . it ..ccurj in J.m-on's (atiline. 
lre.jiiP7it senate, wliioli is luimd in ilie ncM sptecli, i> a 
Lallni.-iii tor a lull Iioii.m.-. 

t 'I hat we, {as to the father, &c.] We should cerUinly 
leail who iiL-lCdd ol a».— M. Mason. 

TUtic is an tUii^Ma of who- l-ni ilm u-at is ri' lit. 



Par. Now he points at us. 

Aret. Cite Paris, the tragedian. 

Par. Here. 

Aret. Stand forth. 
In thee,- as being the chief of thy profession, 
I do accuse the quality of treason*. 
As libe.lers against the state and Ciesar. 

Par. Mere accusations are not proof,, my lord; 
In what are we delinquents? 

Aret. You are they 
That search into the secrets of the time. 
And, under feioii'd names, on the staire, present 
Actions not to be touch'd at ; arid traduce 
Persons of rank and quality of both sexes, 
And with satirical and bitter jests 
Make even the senators ridiculous 
To the plebeians. 

Par. If I free not myself, • 

And, in myself, the rest of my profession. 
From these false imjuitatioiis, and prc^e 
'Ihat they make that a libel which the poet 
Writ for a comedy, so acted loo ; 
It is hut justice that we undergo 
The heaviest censure. 

A)et. Are you on the stage, 
Vou talk so boldly ? 

Par. Tlie whole world being one, 
'ibis jilace is not exenijited ; and 1 am 
So coiifideni in the justice of our cause, 
'Ihat 1 could wish Cwsar, in whose great name 
All kings are comj)rehende(l, sat asjudge, 
lo hear our plea, and then deteriiiine of us. 
If, to expn-ss a man sold to his lust , 
\\astin£: the treasure of his time and fortunes 
In wanton dalliance, and to what sad end 
A wretch that's so given over aoes arrive at ; 
Dete-r iig careless youth, by bis exa^iiple, 
From such licentious courses; iavii;g cjien 
J he snares of bawds, and the consuming arts 
Of prodigal strumpets, can deserve rej-.roof; 
Why are not all your golden ].ruiciplts, 
S\ fit down by grave philosophers to instruct us 
'Jo choose fair virtue for cur guide, not pleaS'Ure, 
Condemned unto the fire? . 

Suia. I'here's spirit in this. 

Par. Or if desire of honour. was the base 
On which the building of the Roman empire 
AVas niised up to this height ; if, to inflame 
'J he noble youth with an ambitious heat 
T' endure the frosts of danger, nav, of death, 
'Jo be thought worthy the triumjihal wrealU 
Byglcrious undertakings, may deserve 
Reward or favour from the commonwealth ; 
Actors may put in for as lar;.e a share 
As all the sects of the j.hilosophers . 
1 hey wiili cold preceptsf (perhaps seldom read^ 
Deliver, what an houourabie thing 
1 lie active virtue is • but dots that fire 
'J he blood, or swell the veins with emulation^ 
To be both good and great, equal lo that 
Which is presented on our theatres ? 

• In thee, as biins, the chief of thy j>rofessicn, 
I do accuse the (,ii ilily of treason] (Quality, ilionch nsed 
in a geoui'al s'l■n^t lor anv oicnp.itii.ii, r.illii g, ur tonditioi 
ol li.i-, \fi fteiMS niore pecidi.ir:) a|i|'ri piialid, by uor old 
wriUTs, III iImI of a pla\er. S<e the Picture. 

t 7'hry with cold yrece_ ts, &.C. i 'Jliis i.- judi< iuu>ly eZ 
paudvd tii'iii.Hordct' : 

Ncyniiis irrtant atiimos dmiissa j-rr avrem, 
(^oum ijuie sunt onilix siibjicia fidetOus, et i/iua 
/j'ie sili Irudit sfttctator. 



«ce!«« rv.i 



THE ROM.AM ACTOR. 



177 



Let a sfootl actor, in a lofty scene, 
Shew great Alcides hoiiour'd in tlie sweat 
Of his twelve labours ; or a bold Camillus, 
Forhiddin-i; Rome to he redeem'd with gold 
From the insulting Gauls; or Scipio, 
After his victories, imposing tribute 
On con(|uer'd Cartilage : if done to the life, 
As if they saw their dangers, and their glories, 
And did partake witb tliem in their rewanls, 
All that have any spark of Roman in them, 
The slothful arts" laid by, contend to be 
Like those t!iey see presented. 

Rust, lie has put 
The consuls to their whisper*. 

Par. Rut, 'tis urged 
That we corrupt youth, and traduce superiors. 
When do we bring a vice upon the stage, 
That does ^o off unpunish'd ? Do we teach, 
By the success of wicked undertakings, 
Others to tread in their forbidden steps? 
We show no arts of Lydian pauderism, 
Corinthian jjoisons, Persian (latteries, 
But mulcted so in the conclusion, that 
Even tiiose specfatprs that were so inclined. 
Go home changed men. And, for traducing such 
That are above us publisliing to the world 
Their secret crimes, we are as innocent 
As such as are born dumb. When we present 
An heir that does consjiire against the life 
Of his dear parent, numbering every hour 
He lives, as tedious to him ; if there be 
Among the audit .rs, one whose conscience tells him 
He is of the same mould, — we cannot help rr. 
Or, bringing on the stage a loose adulteress, 
That does maintain the riotous expense 
Of him tliat feeds her greedy lust, yet suffers 
The lawful pledges of a former bed 
To starve the wliile for hunger: if a matron. 
However great in fortune, birth, or titles, 
Guilty of such a foul unnatural sin, 
Cry out, 'Tis writ for ine, — we cannot help it. 
Or, wlien a covetous man's express'd, wiiose wealiL 
Aritlimetic cannot number, and whose lordships 
A falcon in one day cannot fly over; 
Yet he so sordid in his mind, so griping, 
As not to afford liimself the necessaries 
To maintain life ; if a patrician, 
(Though honour'd with a consulship,) find himself 
'i'ouch'd to the cpick in thi?,— we cannot help it: 
Or, when we show a judge that is corrupt, 
And will give up his sentence, as he favoui-s 
Tlie person, not the cause ; saving the guilty. 
If of his facticjn, and as oft condemning 
I'he innocent, out of particular spleen ; 
If any in this reverend assembly. 
Nay, even yourself, my lord, that are the image 
Of absent Ca*sar, feel something in your bosom 
ITjat puts you in remembrance of things past. 
Or things intended, — 'tis not in us to help it. 



• Rust, ffe has put &c. 1 Ma«singcr never scruples to 
repeat liim.sili We liH\e Ju,st had this expres$ieu in '/'he 
Parliariu'tit of Love : 

" she lias put 

Tlie judges lo their wld^per." 
Tlie learned rtad'-r will discover several classical allii'ions 
in the eiisniii^ speech, and, indeed, in every part ot llii< 
drama: I ■e>e I lave nut ah»ays pointe<l out; tli<<ii<^h I 
would ol)-erve, in jn-tice to Massinger, that tliey are com- 
nionly made «illi skill and eriect, and without that artecta- 
(iuu of literature elsewhere lo noticeable. 



I have said, my lord ; and now, as you find cause, 
Or censure us, or free us with applause. 

La/. Well pleaded on my life ! I never saw him 
Act an orator's part before. 

jEsnp. We might liave given 
Ten double fees to Kegiilus, and yet , 
Our cause deliver'd worse. [^4 ihout withit 

Enter Pahthenius. 

Aret. What shout is that? 

Parth. Ca.'sar, our lord, married to conquest, is 
Return'd in triumph. 

Fill. Let's all haste to meet him. 

Aret. Break up the court ; we will reserve to him 
The censure of t'li^s cause. 

All. Long life to Cwsar ! [Exeunt 

SCENE IV.— The Approach to the Capitol. 
Finer .TuLiA, C;enis, Domitii.la, and Domitia. 
Cffnls Stand back — the place is mine. 
Jul. Yours! Am I not 
Great Titus' daughter, and Domitian's niece ? 
Dares any claim precedence ? 

Cams. 1 was more : 
The mistress of vour fiither, and, in his right. 
Claim duly from vou. 

.htl. I confess, vou were useful 
To please his appetite. 

JJom. To end the controversy. 
For I'll have no contending, I'll be bold 
To lead the wav myself. 
Domitll. You, minion ! 
Doin. Yes ; 
And all, ere long, shall kneel to catch my favours. 
Jul. W hence springs this flood of greatness ? 
Dom. You shall know 
Too soon for your vexation, and perhaps 
Repent too late, and pine with envy, when 
You see wliom Caesar favours. 

Jul. Observe the sequel, 
f.i-er Captains ui(/i /aure/s, Do.mitian in his t~ium- 
phant chariot, PAnTiiKNiis, Pakis, L\iiNfs, ana 
^sopis, met hit Arftinus, Sura. L^siia, Rusti- 
Cfs, Fl'i.cinius, Soldiers, and Captives. 
Cits. As we now touch the height af human glory, 
Riding in trium]di to tlie capitol, 
I et these, whom this victorious arm hath made 
The scorn of fortune, and the slaves of Rome, 
Taste the extremes of misery. Biar them o!l 
To the common prisons, and there let them prove 
How sharp our axes are. 

[Exeunt Soldiers with Captive*, 
ll^ist. A bloody entrance ! [Aside. 

Crrs. To tell you you are ha[)py in your prince, 
Were to dir.trust your love, or my desert ; 
And either were distasteful : or to boast 
Jlow much, not by my deputies, but myself, 
I have enlarged tlie empire ; or what horrors 
The soldier, in our conduct, hath broKe through. 
Would better suit the mouth of Plant us' braggart. 
Than the adored monarch of the world. 

Sm-a. This is no boast ! [Aside. 

Cas. When I llut name the Daci, 
And grey-eyed Germans, wiinm 1 have subdued 
I he gliost of Julius will look pale wiih envy. 
And great Vesjiasian's and I itus' triinnjili, 
( I'rutli must take place of father and of brother.) 
Will be no more remember'd. 1 am above 



1T8 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Act TI. 



All honours you can g-ive me ; and the style 

Of Lord and God, wiiicli thankful subjects give me, 

Not my ambition, is deserved. 

Aret. At all parts 
Celestial sacrifice is fit for CiBsar, 
In our ackno\Tledc;ment. * 

CdS. 'i'iianks, Aretinus ; 
(Still liiilil our favour. Now, the cfod of war, 
And famine, blood, and death, IJeliona's passes, 
Banisli'd from Rome to Thrace, in our good fortune. 
With justice he may taste' tiie fruits of jieace, 
Whose sword hath plougii'd the ground, and reap'd 

(he harvest 
Of vnur prosperity. Nor can I think 
TJiat there is one amonu- you so unorateful, 
Or such an enemy to tlniving virtue. 
That can esteem the jewel he holds dearest 
Too j;ood for Casar's use. 

Suva. All we possess — * 

L<i'ii. Our liberties — 

Fill. Our children — 

Pur. Wealtli — 

Aret. And throats, 
Fall willingly beneath his feet. 

Rust. Base flattery ! 
What Roman can endure this? \^Aside. 

Cits. This calls* on 
My love to all, which spreads itself among j'ou. 
The beauties of the time 1 receive the honour 
Tokissthe hand which, rear'd uptlius, holds thunder j 
To you, 'tis an assurance of a calm. 
Julia, my niece, and Cienis, the delight 
Of old Vespasian ; Domitilla, too, 
A princess of our blood. 



Jiust. 'Tis strange his pride 
Affords no greater courtesy to ladies 
Of such high birth and rank. 

Sttrii. Your « ife's forgotten. 

Lam. No, slie will be remembered, fear it ndt, 
She will be graced, and greased. 

CVs Hut, when Tlook on 
Divine Domitia, melhinks we should meet 
(Tiie lesser gods applauding flie encounter) 
As Ju[)iter, the Giants lying dead 
On the J*lilegr«an plain,. embraced his Juno. 
Lamia, it is your honour that she's mine. 

Lam. \'ou are too great to be gainsaid. 

C<rs. Let all 
That fear our frown, or do affect our favour, 
Witliout examining the reason why. 
Salute her (by this kiss I make it good) 
With the title of Augusta. 

Dom. Still your servant. 

All. Long live A ugusta, great Domitian's empress ! 

Cffs. I'aris, my hand. 

Par. 'Ihe gods still honour Cresar ! 

CVs. The wars are ended, and, our arms laid by, 
We ai-e for soft delights. Command the ])oets 
To use their choicest and most rare invention. 
To entertayi the time, and be you careful 
'i"o give it action : we'll provide the people 
Pleasures of all kinds. Jly Domitia, think not 
I flatter, tliougn thus fond. On to the capitol : 
'Tis death to him that wears a sullen brow. 
•'I'his 'tis to be a monarch, when alone 
He can command all, but is awed by none. 

[Ex;unl 



ACT II. 



SCENE I.— A Halt in ihe Palace. 
Enter Philargus in rugs, and PAnxnENius. 

Phil. My son to tutor me ! Know your obedience, 
And ()uestion not my will. 

Faith. Sir, were 1 oui^, 
Whom want compell'd to wish a full possession 
Of what is yours ; or had 1 ever number 'd+ 
Your years, or thought yuu lived too long-, with 
^ ou then miglit nourish ill opinions of me: [reason 
Or did the suit that I prefer to you 
Concern myself, and aim'd not at your good, 
V ou might deny, and 1 sit down with patience, 
And after never press you. 

Phil. In tiie name of Pluto, 
What would'st thou have me dol 



• This calls, &c. This passage is so strangely pointed in 
Ihe nioilern editmns, tliat it clearly appears to have been 
■tjisundeistooil. They read, j 

This calls en 

My Inve to all, uhich spreads itself among you, 
The beauties of the time. Ileceive &c. 

or had I ever nxtinter'd 

Your years,] This wa? accoiinled a hi!;li (iei^ree of nnna- 
tiiraliiiss and impiety a-non;; all nations: patrios inquiere 
in anrtos is leckoned by Ovid aiiidng the pioii. incut causes 
• hitli provoked Jupiter to destroy the old world by a deluge. 



Parth. Right to yourself; 
Or suffer me to do it. Can you imagine 
'J his nasty hat, this tatter'd cloak, rent shoe, 
This sordid linen, can become the master 
Of your fair fortunes? whose superfluous means, 
1 hough I were burthensome, could clothe you in 
The costliest Persian silks, studded with jewels, 
The spoils of provinces, and every day 
Fresh change of I'yrian purple. 

Phil. Out upon thee! 
My monies in my coffers melt to hear thee. 
Purple ! hence, prodigal ! Shall 1 make my mercer 
Or tailor heir, or see my jeweller purchase T 
No, I iiate pride. 

Purlh. \et decency would do well. 
Though, for your outside, you will not be alter'd, 
Let me prevail so far yet, as to win you 
Not to deny your belly nourishment; 
Neitherto thmk you've fe.asted when 'tis cramm'd 
With mouldy barley-bread, onions, and leeks, 
And the driiik of bondmen, water. 

Phil. W ouldst thou have me 
Be an Ai)icius, or a Lucullus, 
And riot out my state in curious sauces 1 
Wise nature with a little is contented ; 
And, following her, my guide, I cannot err. 



SntsE IV.] 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



179 



Parih. But you destroy her in your want of care 
(I blusli to see, and speak it) to nuuntaii her 
In perft'Ct health and vioour, wlien you suffer. 
Frighted witli the charge of physic, rlieums, catarrlis, 
The scurf, ache in your bones, to grow upon you, 
And hasten on your fate with too much sparing ; 
When a clieap purge, a vomit, and good diet. 
Ma)' lengthen it. Give me but leave to send 
The emperor's doctor to you. 

Phil, ril be borne first, • 

Half rotten, to tlie fire that must consume me ! 
His pills, his cordials, his electuaries. 
His syrups, julaps, bezoar stone, nor his 
Imagined unicorn's horn, comes in my belly ; 
My mouth shall be a drauglit first, 'tis resolved. 
No ; I'll not lessen my dear golden heap, 
Which, every hour increasing, does renew 
My youth and vigour; but, if Ipssen'd, then. 
Then my poor heart-strings crack. Let me enjoy it, 
And brood o'er't, while 1 live, it .being my life, 
My soul, mv all : but when I turn to dust. 
And part from what is more esteem'd, by me. 
Than all the gods Rome's thousand altars smoke to. 
Inherit thou my adoration of it, 
And, like me, serve my idol. [£.tj<. 

Parth. What a strange torture 
Is avarice to itself! what man, that looks on 
Such a penurious spectacle, but must 
Know what tlie fable meant of Tantalus, 
Or the ass whose back is crack'd with curious viands, 
Yet feeds on thistles. Some course I must take. 
To make my fiather know what cruelty 
He uses on himself. 

Enter Pauis. 

Par. Sir, with your pardon, 
I make bold to enquire the emperor's pleasure; 
For, being by him commanded to attend. 
Your favour may instruct us what's his will 
Shall be this night presented. 

Parth. My loved Paris, 
Without my intercession, you well know. 
You may make your own approaches, since his ear 
To vou is ever open. 

Pur. I acknowledge 
His clemency to my weakness, and, if ever 
I do abuse it, lightning strike me dead ! 
The grace l;e pleases to confer upon me 
(Without boast I may say so much) was never 
Em[)loy'd to wrong the innocent, or to incense 
His fury. 

Piirth. 'Tis confess'd : many men owe you 
For provinces tliey ^le'er hoped for ; and their lives, 
Forfeited to his anger : — you being absent, 
I could say more. 

Par. You still are my good patron ; 
And, lav it in my fortune to desene it. 
You should jierceive the poorest of your clients 
To his best abilities thankful. 

Parth. 1 believe so. 
Met you my father ? 

Par. Yes, sir, with much grief. 
To see him as lie is. Can nothing work him 
To be liiinself ? 

Parth. t), Paris, 'tis a weight 
Sits lieavy liere ; and could this right hand's loss 
Remove it, it should ofl" ; but he is deaf 
To all ]iersuasion. 

Par, Sir, with your pardon, 



I'll offer my advice : I once observed. 

In a tragedy of ours*, in which a murder 

Was acted to the life, a guilty ht^arer. 

Forced by the terror of a wounded conscience, 

To make discovery of that wliich torture 

Could not wring from him. Nor can it appear 

Like an impossibilitv, but that 

Your father, looking on a covetous. maa 

Presented on t^e stage, as in a mirror, 

May see his own dt-forinity, and loatii it. 

Now, could you but persuade the emperor 

To see a comedy we have, that's styled 

The Cure of Aixirice, and to command 

Your father to be a spectator of it. 

He shall be so anatomized in the scene, 

And see hiinselrso persona'ted, the baseness 

Of a self-torturing miserable wretch 

Truly described, that I miicli hope the object 

Will work compunction in him. t 

Parth. There's your fee ; ' •* 
I ne'er bought better counsel. Be you in. readiness, 
I will effect the rest. 

P(ir. Sir, when you please ; 
We'll be prepared to enter. — Sir, the emperor. 

[Esit. 
\Enter C«s.*n, Aretinus, and Guard. 

Ctrs. Repine at us ! 

Aret. 'lis more, or my informers, 
That keep strict watch upon him, are deceived 
In their intelligence : there is a list 
Of malcontents, as Junius Rusticus, 
Palphurius Sura, and this -'Llius Lamia, 
That murmur at your triumphs, as mere pageants ; 
And, at tlieir midnight meetings, tax your justice, 
(For so I style what they call tyranny,) 
For Partus ilirasea's death, as if in him 
Virtue herself v/ere murder'd : nor forget they 
Agricola, who, for his service done 
In the reducing Britain to obedience, 
Thev dare affirm to be removed with poison ; 
And he compell'd to write you a coheir 
Witli his daughter, that his testament might stand, 
Which, el.-ie, you liad made void. '1 hen your much 
To Julia your niece, censured as incest, [love 

And done in scorn of Titus, your dead brother: 
But the divorce Lamia was forced to sign 
To her vou honour vvith Augusta's title, 
Being only named, they do conclude there was 
A Lucrece once, a Collatine, and a Brutus ; 
But nothing Roman left now but, in you. 
The lust of Tarquin. 

Cas. Yes, liis fire, and scorn 
Of such as think that our unlimitedQower 
Can be confined. Dares Lamia pretend 

• / once observed 



In a traytdy of ours, &c.) 



have lieard. 



Tliat guilty creatures, silting at a play. 
Have t)y Ilie very cunning of the scene, 
Been slnick so lo the soul, that pre^-ently 
They have prociaiin'il tlieir inalefaclioiis ; 
For niiiriler, ihongh it have no tongue, will speak 
Witli most iiiiraciiloiis or;;an." Hamlet. 

\ EntfT C/iisAR, &<:. Coxeter seldom attempts lo .specify 
the ul.ice ol aciioii wiihont falling into error; and Mr. M. 
Ma-on, vnIiii, in ilespite of liis accuracy, labours, like Fal- 
statt, un.lcr " llie in.il.idy of not marking." constantly and 
closely lollows him. They call this " Si-cne the second," 
and change the ground ' from .i chamber to a p.ilace ;" 
willi-taiMliiig tlie emperor enters while Paris ioyet speakiug 
and I'arthenius continues on the stage, 

» 2 



180 



THE ROMAN ACTOR, 



f Act U 



An interest to that whicli I call mine ; 

Or but remember she was ever his, 

That's now in our possessiun? Fetch him hither. 

[Exit Guard. 
I'll give him cause to wisli he rather hwd 
Forgot his own name, than e'er mention'd her's. 
Shall we be circumscvibed ? Let such as cannot 
By force make good tlieir nctious, though wicked, 
Conceal, excuse, or <]ualify their crimes! 
What our desires grant leave and privilege to, 
Though contradicting all divine decrees. 
Or laws confirm "d by Romulus and Numa, 
Shall be held sacred. 

Aret. You should, else, take from 
The dignity of Ca-sar. 

Cas. Am I master " * 

Of two and thirty legions, that awe 
All nations of the triumphed world. 
Yet tremble at our frown, to yield account 
Of what's our pleasure, to a private man I 
Rome perish first, and Atlas' shoulders shrink, 
Heaven's fabric fall, (the sun, the moon, the stars, 
Losing tlieir light and comfortable heat,) 
Ere I confess that any fault of mine 
May be disputed ! 

Aret. So vou preserve your power, 
As you should, equal and omnipotent here 
With Jupiter's above. 

\^Parthenius kneeling, whispers Ciesar. 

Cees. Thy suit is granted, 
Whate'er it be, Partbenius, for tliy service 

Done to Augusta Only so? a t ifle : 

Command hiiu hither. If the comedy fail 
To cure him, 1 will minister something to him 
That shall instruct him to forget his gold. 
And think ujion himself 

Farth. May it succeed well, 
Since my intents are jnous ! [Exit. 

Ca:s. We are resolved 
What course to take'; and, tlierefore, Aretinus, 
Enquire no further. Go you to my empress, 
And say I do entreat (for she rules him 
Whom all men else obev) she would vouchsafe 
The music of her voice at yonder window-, 
When I advance my hand, thus. I will blend 

[Exit Aretinus. 
My cruelty with sorne scorn, or else 'tis lost. 
Revenge, when it is unexpected, fallmg 
With greater violence ; and hate clothed in smiles. 
Strikes, and wiih horror, dead, the wretch that 
Prepared to meet it. [comes not 

Re-enter Guard ivith Lamia. 

Our good Lamia, welcome. 
So much we o\^Vyou for a benefit, 
With willingness on your part conferr'd upon us, 
Tliat 'tis our study, we that would not live 
Engaged to any tor a courtesy. 
How to return it. 

I^m. 'Tis beneath your fate 
To be obliged, that in your own hand grasp 
The means to be magnificent. 

Cds. Well put oft"; 
But yet it must not do: the empire. Lamia, 
Divided equally, can hold no vi-eight. 

If balanced with your gift in fair Domitja 

You, that could part with all delights at once. 
The magazine of rich pleasures being contain'd 
In her perfections, — uncompell'd, deliver'd 
As a present fit for Cassar, In your eyes. 



With tears of joy, not sorrow, 'tis confinn'd 
You glory in your act. 

Liim. Derided too ! 
Sir, this is more 

C<es. More than I can requite ; 
It is acknowledged. Lamia. • There's no drop 
Of melting nectar I taste from her lip, 
But yields a touch of immortality 
To-the blest receiver; every grace and feature. 
Prized to the worth, bought at an easy rate, 
If purchased, for a consulship. Her discourse 
So ravishing, and her adion so attractive. 
That I would part with all my other senses. 
Provided I might ever see and hear her. 
Tiie pleasures of her bed I dare not trust 
The winds or air with ; for that would draw down. 
In envy of my happiness, a war 
From all the gods, upon me. 

Lam. Your compassion 
To me, in your forbearing to insult 
On my calamity, which you make your sport, 
Would more appease those gods vou have provoked, 
Than all tiie blasjjhemous comparisons 
You sing unto her praise. 

Cifs. 1 sing her praise ! l^Dnmiliaappedrs at the 

Mis far from my ambition to hope it ; [^wiiidow. 

It being a debt she only can lay down. 
And no tongue else^dischorge. 

^He raises his hand. Miii^icabove, 

Hark! I tiiink. jirompted 

With mv consent that you once more should he;«r 

She does begin. An universal silence [her, 

Dv.ell on this place ! 'lis death, with lingering 

torments, 
To all that dare disturb her. — 

[A Song, by Domiiio 
— W ho can hear thif 
And fall not down and worship? In my fancy, 
Apollo being judge, on Latmos' hill . 
Fair-hair'd ( 'wliope, on her ivory lute, 
(But something short of this,) sung Ceres' presses. 
And grisly Pluto's rape on Proserpine. 
The motions of the spheres are out of time*. 
Her musical notes but heard'. Say, Lamia, iay, 
Is not her voice angelical ? 

Lam. To your ear : 
But I, alas ! am silent. 

Cas. Be so ever. 
That without admiration canst hear 'ler ! 
Malice to my ielicity strikes thee I'amb, 
And, in thy hope, or wish, to rep'ssess 
What I love more than empire, J pronounce thee 
Guilty of treason. Off" with his 1 ead ! do you stare? 
By her that is my patroness, Wiiierva, 
Whose statue 1 adore of all the gods. 
If he but live to make reply, thy life 
Shall answer it ! 

[T/ie Guard leads off Larr ia, stopping liis mouth. 
]My fears of him are freed now , 
And he that lived to upbraid me with my wrong, 

• The motions of the spheres are out of time,] For time 
Mr. M. Miison chooses to read, tune. In tliis rapricioa; 
alteration he is countenanced by fonie of llie coninientaton 
on Shakspeare, wlio, as well as hiiiisiU', iiiiglit have spared 
llieir pains; j-ince it appears troni iiiuiilKiltss ex;iii)plrs tdal 
the two words were once synonyiitous. 7 imp, however, wai 
the more ancient and common term : nor was it till loiik 
atler tlic age of Massiiiger, that the use of it in the sense <N 
httiiiioiiy, was entiitly superseded by that of tune. 



SCBHE IV.] 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



181 



For an offence lie never could imag^ine, 

In waiifouness removed. JJescend, ray dearest; 

Plurality of Imsbiiiuls shall no more 

Breed doubts oi- jealousies in you : 'tis dispatch'd, 

And with as liitle trouble here, as if 

I had kill'd a tiy. 

Enter DoMiTiA. ushered in by Apetinus, her train 
borne up bq Jui.ia, C*;nis, and Domitilla. 

Now you appear, and in 
That glory you deserve ! and these, that stoop 
To do you service, in the act much houour'd ! 
Julia, forget that Titus was thy father; 
Caenis, and Domitilla, ne'er remember 
Sabinus or \'espasian. To be slaves 
To her is more true liberty, than to live 
Parthian or Asian ijueens. As lesser stars 
That wait on Fhabe in. her full of brightness, ' 
Compared to iier, von are. Thus, thus I seat you 
By Caesar's side, commanding these, that once 
Were the adored glories of the time. 
To witness to the world they are your vassals. 
At your feet to attend you. 
Doiii, 'I is your pleasure, 
And not my pride. And yet, when I consider 
That I am yours, all duties they can pay 
I do receive as ciicumstances due 
To her you please to iionour. 

Re-enter Pautfienius with Philargus. 

Parth. Cresar's will 
Commands you hitlier, nor must you gainsay it. 

Phil. Lose time to see an interlude ? must I pay 
For mv vexation ? [loo 

Parth. iSot in the court; 
It is the emperor's charge. 

Phil. I shall endure 
My torment then the better. 

Ctes. Can it be 
This soidid thing, Parthenius, is thy father? 
No actor can express him ; I had lield 
The fiction for impossible in the scene. 
Had I not seen. the substance. Sirrah, sit still, 
And give attention ; if you but nod. 
You sleep ibr ever. Let them spare the prologue, 
And all the ceremonies proper to ourself. 
And come to the last act — there, where the cure 
By the doctor is? made perfect. The swift minutes 
Seem years to me, Uomitia, that divorce thee 
Frbm my embraces: my desires increasing 
As they are satisfied, all pleasures else 
Are tedious as dull sorrows. Kiss me again : 
. If I now wanted heat of youth, these fires. 
In Priam's veins would thaw his frozen blood, 
Enabling liiui to get a second Hector 
For the defence of Troy. 

Dom. Vou are wanton ! 
Pray yon, forbear. Let me see the play. 

Ciis. Begin there. 

Enter Paris like a doctor of physic, and .^Esopus : 
Latim's is brought forth asleep in a chair, a hey in 
his mouth. 



0. O maf^ter doctor, he is past recovery ; 
A lethargy hatli seized him : and, however 
His sleep resemble death, his watchful care 
To guard that trea.-;ure he dares make no use of, 
Works strongly iw ins soul. 

Par. \\ hut's that he holds 
Bo fast between his teeth ] 

15 



JEsop. The key that oppns 
His iron chests, cramm'd with accursed gold, 
Jlusiy wiiii long imprisonment. There's no duty 
In me, iiis son, nor confidence in friends, 
'That can persuade liini to deliver up 
That to the trust of any. 
I'hil. lie is the wilder : 
We were fashion'd in one mould. 

Alsoj). lie eats with it ; 
And when devotion calls him to the temjile 
Of iMammon*, whom, of all the gods, he kneels to, 
JiiAr held tlius still, his orisons are piiid : 
i\or will he, though the wealth of Home were 
For the restoring oft, for one short hour [pawn'd 
Be won to part with it. 

Phil. .Siill,'>still myself! 
And if like me he love his gold, no pawn 
Is "rood security. 

Par. Til try if I can force it • 

It will not be. His avaricious mind, 

l^ike men in rivers drown'd, makes him gripe fast. 

To his last gasp, what he in life Indd deareot ; 

And, if iliat it were possible in nature, 

\\ oiild carry it with him to the other world. 

Phil. As 1 would do to hell, rather than leare it. 
jKsop. Is he not dead? 
Par. Long since to all good actions. 
Or rn himself, or others, for which wise men 
Desire to live. Vou may with safety pinch him, 
Cr under his nails stick needles, yet he stirs not; 
Anxious fear to lose what his soid dnats on. 
Renders his flesh insensible. We mu>t use 
Some means to rouse the sleeping faculties 
Of his mind ; there lies the lethargy. 1 akea trumpetf. 
And blow it into liis ears ; 'tis to no purpose; 
1 he roaring' noise of thunder cannot wake him : 
And yet despair not ; I have one trick left yet. 
Alsop. What is it ? 
Par. ] will cause a fearful dream 
To steal into his fancy, and disturb it 
With the+iorror it brings with it, and so free 
His bo'iy's organs. 

Dom. 'Tis a cunning fellow ; 
If he were indeed a doctor, as the play saysj, 
tie should be sworn my servant ; govern my slum- 
And minister to me waking. [hers, 

Pur. If this fail. [A Chest is brought in, 

VU give him o'er. So; with all violence 
Rend ope this iron chest, for here his life lies 
bound up in fetters, and in the defence 
Of what he values higher, 'twill return. 
And fill each vein and artery. — Louder yet! 
— 'lis open, and already he begins 



• Of Mammon, Sic] Thtre seems .i want of Jiulgment in 
the iiilioMuctiui iif Mammon, (.i ileily iiiiliuowii lo the 
Roiiidiis,! whrii Piiiliis «onIil have sirwd llie tuiii a^well-, 

+ . Take a trumpet 

And blow it in It's ears ; 'tis to no purpose ;] So Jnvenal: 
Qui vix cornicines exauditt alque tubarum 
(.'oncentics. SAT. X; 

And Jonson : 

" .^ir, s|)<'.<k out ; 

Yon ni.ij be louder yet; a culverin 

r)i'cli.iii;eil into his tar, would hdiilly bore it " T/ie Fox. 

I If he were indeed a doctor, as the play says,\ Jndeed, 
which cun;(,kles llie veise, is omilleo i)> birili ilie modern 
eilitor,-; as ar many <illiir words iii this Imlc interlude, 
which I liive .silently broimlit b.tcii. Uomitia adds, " He 
slioni I be sworn mytervant" This was less a Roman than 
an Eiijli-h eu>tiMn. Ill Massinger's time the attendants of 
the iiieai, « ho were maintained iu considerable numbers, took 
an oath of fidelity on iheir eiitrance into olhc-e. 



lit 



THE ROMAN ACIOR. 



LAcrll 



To stir, mark with what trouble. 

l^Latinus stretches himself. 

Phil, As you are Cffisar, 
Defend this honest, thrifty man ! they are thieves, 
And come to rob him. 

Parlh. Peace ! the emperor frowns. 

Par. So ; now pour out the bags upon the table, 
Remove his jewels, and his bonds. — A»ain, 
Ring a second golden peal. His eyes are open ; 
He stares as he had seen ^Medusa's head, 
And were turn'd marble. — Once more. 

Lot. Murder! IMurder! 
They come to murder me. My son in the plot? 
Thou worse than parricide ! if it be death 
To strike thy fatlier's body, can all tortures 
The furies in hell practise, be sufficient 
"For thee that dost assassinate my soul ? 
My gold ! my bonds ! my jewels ! dost thou envy 
My glad possession of them for a day ; 
E.xtinguishing llie taper of my life 
Consumed unto the snuff ? 

Pur. Seem not to mind him. 

Lut. Have I, to leave thee rich, denied myself 
The jovs of human being ; scraped and hoarded 
A mass of treasure, which had Solon seen. 
The Lydian Crccsus had appear'd to hun 
Poor as the beggar Irus ? And yet I, 
Solicitous to increase it, when my entrails 
Were clemm'd*, with keeping a perpetual fast 
Was deaf to their loud windy cries, as fearing. 
Should I disburse one penny to their use, 
My heir might curse me. And to save expense 
In outward ornaments, I did expose 
My naked body to the winter's cold, 
And summer's scorching heat : nay, when diseases 
Grew thick upon me, and a little cost 
Had purchased my recovery, I chose raiu^ 
To have my ashes closed up in my urn, 
By hasting on my fate, than to diminish 
The gold my prodigal son, while I am living, 
Carelessly scatters. • 

JEsoj). Would you'd dispatch and die oncef ' 
Your ghost should feel in hell, that is my slave 
Which was your master. 

Phd. Out upon thee, varlet ! 

Par. And what then follows all your carke and 
caring. 
And self-affliction? When your starved trunk is 
Turn'd to forgotten dust, this hopeful youth 
Urines upon lOur monument, ne'er remembering 
How much for him you suft'er'd ; and then tells 
To the companions of his lusts and riots. 
The hell you did endure on earth, to leave him 
Large means to be an epicure, and to feast 
His senses all at once, a happiness 



* Were clemm'd with keeping a perpetual fatt,^ T<> be 
tlemm'd imt clamm'd,(ai Sletvins quotes it from llie miser- 
able text of Coxettr and M. Mason,) is to be slinink up with 
bouger, so as to clinij together: thus Marslon ; 

" Now lions halfclemin'd entrails roar for food." 

Atitonio and Mellida. I 
Mctapliorically, to be starved. Tims Jonson: "Hard is I 
Iheir fate, when the valiant must either beg or clem." Again, 1 
" I cannot eat stones and tnrf : What! will he clem me • 
and Hiy followers! ask him, an he will clem me." Poetas- 
ter. 

t JEaop. 11'ould you'd dispatch and die once !] This line 
i» incorreitly given in both tlie nici.«rii editions. Coxeter 
dropt a word, and M. Mason inserted one at random, which 
*|ioiled al once tlie measure and ihe sense ! He reads, 
yp'vuld you dinyatch and die at onct 



You never grunted to yourself. Your gold, then, 
Got with vexation, and jireserved with trouble, 
I^Liintains the public stews, jjanders, and r:^£ans 
I hat quaff damnations to your memory*. 
For living so long liere. 

Lilt. It will be so ; I see it. 
0. that I could recleem the time that's past ! 
I would live and die like myself; and make true asA 
Of what my industry i>urchased. 

Par. Covetous men. 
Having one foot in the grave, lament so ever: 
But grant that 1 hy art could yet recover 
Your desperate sickness, lengthen out your life 
A dozen of years ; as I restore your body 
To [jerf'ect health, will you with care endeavour 
To rectify your mind ? 

Lot. 1 siiould so live then, 
As neiiher my heir should have just cause to think 
1 lived too long, for being close-handed to him, 
Or cruel to myself. 

Pur. Have your desires. 
Phocbu:- assisting me, 1 will repair 
The ruin''] building of your liealth ; and think not 
You have a son that hates you ; the truth is. 
Tills means, with his consent, 1 practised on you 
To this good end : it being a device. 
In you to hew the Cure of Avarice. 

\^Exeunt Parts, Latinus, and .^sopua, 

Phil. An old fool, to be guild thus ! had he died 
As I resolve to do, not to be alter'd, 
It had gone off twanging. 

Cas. How approve you, sweetest, 
Of the matter and the actors ? 

Dom. For the subject!, 
I like it not! it was filch'd out of Horace. 
— Nav, I have read the poets : — but the fellow 
That play'd the doctor, did it well, by Venus ; 
He had a tuneable tongue, and neat delivery : 
Ana vet, in my opinion, he would perform 
A .V. fcr's part much better. Prithee, Caesar, 
For I grow weary, let us see to-morrow 
Iphis and Anararete. 

Cus. Any thing 
For thy delight, Domitia ; to your rest. 
Till I come to disquiet you : wait upon her. 
There is a business that I ni«st dispatch. 
And 1 will straight be with you. 

[^Exeunt Aret. Dom., Julia, Canis, and DomitiL 

Parth. Now, my dread sir. 
Endeavour to prevail. 

Ctts. One way or other 
We'll cure him, never doubt it. Now, Philargus, 
Thou wretched thing, hast thou seen thy sordid 

baseness, 
And but observed what a contemptible creature 
A covetous miser is? Dost thou in thyself 
Feel triie compunction, with a resolution 
To be a new man? 



• That quaff damnations to your memory, &c.] Thus 
Pope ; 

" At best, it falls to some ungracious son, 

Who cries, my father's d d, airJ all's my own I" 

t Dom. For the subject, 

1 like it not ; it was filch'd out of 11 or are.] I differ from 
Domiiia. There is nnconimon spirit .iiid beauty in this little 
iiiterliulu. The outline indeed, as the lady observes, is from 
Horavs : but is filled up with a masterly peocil. 



Scene I.] 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



1RV 



Phil. This crazed body's Caisar's ; 
But forinv mind 

Cus. '1 rifle net witli my anger. 
Canst tliou make good use of what was now pre- 
sented ; 
Anil imitate, in thy sudden change of life, 
Tiie iiiistT.ibU' rich man, that express'd 
What tliou art 'o tlie lileT 

Phil. Fiav you give me leave 
To (lie as I have lived. I must not part with 
Mv gold ; it is my life ; 1 am past cure. 

Ciis. No ; by Alinerva, thou shall never more 
Feel the least touch of avarice. Take him hence. 



And hang him instantly. If there be gold in heU, 
Enjoy it : — thine here, and thy life together, 
Is forfeited. 

Phil. Was I sent for to this purpose ? 

Parth. Rlercy for all my service; Cresar, mercy! 

C(rs Should Jove plead for him, 'tis resolved ho 
dies, 
And he that speaks one syllable to dissuade mo ; 
And therefore tempt me not. It is but justice: 
Since such as wilfully would hourly die, 
Muit tax themselves, and not my cruelty. 

[Exeunt, 



ACT III. 



SCENE l.—A Ronm in the Palace. 
Enter Julia, Domitilla, and Stephanos. 

.^i(/. No, Domitilla; if you but compare 
What I have suffer'd with your injuries, 
(Tl)ough great ones, I confess,) they will appear 
Like molehills to 01vm{)us, 

Diimitil. You are tender 
Of vour own wounds, which makes you lose the 

feeling 
And sense of mine. The incest he committed 
With vou, and publicly profess'd, in scorn 
Of what tlie world durst censure, may admit 
Some weak de!ence, as being born headlong to it, 
I5ut in a manly way, to enjoy your beauties : 
Besides, won by his perjuries, that he would 
Salute you with the title of Augusta, 
Vour faint denial show'd a full consent. 
And grant to his temptations. But poor I, 
That would not yield, but was with violence forced 
To serve his lusts, and in a kind Tiberius 
At Caprea; never practised, have not here 
One conscious touch to rise up my accuser j 
I, in my will being innocent. 

Steph. I'ardon me. 
Great jjrincesses, though I presume to tell you, 
Wasting your time in childish lamentations. 
You do degenerate from the blood you spring from : 
For there is something more in Home expected 
From Titus' daughter, and his uncle's heir, 
'J'him womanish complaints, after such wrongs 
Which mercy cannot pardon. But, you'll say. 
Your hands are weak, and should you but attempt 
A just revenge on this inhuman monster. 
This prodigy of mankind, bloody Domitian 
Hath ready swords at his command, as well 
As islands to confine you, to remove 
His doubts, and fears, did he but entertain 
'J he least suspicion you contrived or plotted 
Against his j)erson. 

Jul. 'Tis true, Stephanos; 
The legions that sack'd Jerusalem, 
Under my father Titus, are sworn his, 
And I no more remember'd. 

Domitil. And to lose 
Ourselves by building on impossible hopes, 
Were desperate madness. 

Steph, Vou conclude too fast. 



One single arm, whose master does contemn 

His own life, holds a full command o'er his. 

Spite of his guards*. I was your bondman, lady 

And vou my gracious patroness ; my wealth 

And liberty your gilt : and, though no soldier. 

To whom or custom or example makes 

Grim death ajipear less terrible, 1 dare die 

To do you service in a fair revenge: 

And it will better suit your births and Iionours 

To fall at once, than to live ever slaves 

To his proud em])ress, that insults upon 

^'our patient sufferings. Say but you, Go on, 

And 1 will reach his heart, or perish in 

The noble undertaking. 

Domitil. Your free offer 
Confirms your thankl'ulness, which I acknowledge 
A satisfaction for a greaer debt 
Than what you stand engaged for; but I mustnot; 
Upon uncertain grounds, hazard so grateful 
And good a servant. The immortal Powers 
Protect a prince, though sold to impious acts, 
And seem to slumber till his roaring crimes 
Awake their justice ; but then, looking down, 
And with impartial eyes, on his contempt 
Of all religion, and moral goodness. 
They, in their secret judgments, do determine 
To leave him to his wickedness, which sinks him, 
When he is most securef. 

Jul. His cruelty 
Increasing daily, of necessity 
Must render him as odious to his soldiers. 
Familiar frii iids, and fieedmen, as it hath done 
Already to the senate : then forsaken 
Of his supporters, and grown terrible 
Even to himself, and her he now so doats on, 
We may put into act wliat now with safety 
W e cannot whisper. 

Steph. I am still prepared 

• One sini/le arm, vihnse master tints contfmn 
His own life holiis a full commuml u er his, 
.Spite of his yuurtls] The t,:\\\i. iliout;tii in expressed 
Willi Iimre eliei'^y in the Fatal Uiiwiy: 

" I am (Icspcraie of my liie, and c maixl jour's.' 

t A noble >eiitiiiu nt, hednliHiily expiessecl. How miicli «u- 
peri.r aie these iii.iiily iiiid i.itioiMl obj'Li vain ns. tu (he 
>l.tvi.-h imixinis toin.d in Hamlet, The Maid's htvf-nye, &c. 
It is iriie, they are de.ived Iroin a pirer rode ih.iii any 
Willi wliieh Uomililla 'vaa HCi|iuiinted ; bin wliiili. however, 
was nut mure upeu Co Maasiuger lli.iii tu hi$cuiiU'iiipurariei. 



1S4 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Act IIL 



To execute, when you please to command me : 
Since I am confidint he deserves much more 
That vindicates l)i:s country from a tyrant*, 
Than lie that saves a citizen. 

Eit^r Cams. \ 

Jul. O, here's Cffinis. 

Domitil. Whence come you? 

Cwiiis. From the em|)ress, >vlio seems moved 
In that you wait no belter. Her pride's grown 
To such a lieight, tliat slie disdains the service 
Of her own women ; and esteems herself 
Neglected, when tl i [iriiu-esses of the blood, 
On every coarse eni|plovment, are not ready 
To stoo[) to her commands. 

Domitil. \V here is her greatness ? [descend 

Citnis. Where you would httle think she could 
To grace the rootm or j)ersons. 

Jul. Speak, whtre is siief [by, 

Cctnis. Among- ihe pliiyers ; wliere, all state laid 
She does eiujuire n ho acts this part, who that, 
And in what habits? blames the tirewomen 
For want of curious dressings ; — and, so taken 
She is with Pans the tragedian's shapef, 
That is to act a lover, 1 thought once 
She would iiave courted him. 

Domitil. In the mean time 
How spends the emperor liis hours? 

Citiiis. As ever 
He hath done lieretofore ; in being cruel ' 
To innocent men, whose virtues he calls crimes. 
And, but this morning,- if 't be possible. 
He iiatb outgone himself, having condemn'd 
At Aretinus his informer's suit, 
Palphurius Sura, and good Junius Rusticus, 
Men of the best repute in Rome for their 
Integrity of life : no fault objected, 
But that they did lament his cruel sentence 
On Piutus 1 hrasea, the philosopher, 
Their patron and instructor. 

fiteph. Can Jove see this, 
Antl hold his thunder ! 

Domitil. A'ero and. Caligula 
Only commanded ruischiefsj but our Csusar 
Delights !•>, wo them. 

Jul- 'v'VLat we cannot help, 
y^^ <f i'lay deplore with silence. 

Cteuis. VVe are calld for 
By our proud misiress. 

Domitil. We awhile must suffer. 

Steph. It is true fortitude to stand firm against 
All shocks of fate, when cowards faint and die 
In fear to suffer more calamity. [Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter C>tsAR and PAnTiiENius, 

Cecs. They are then in fetters? 

Parth. Yes, sir, but 

Cics. But what? 
I'll have thy thoughts ; deliver them. 
Farlh. I shall, sir : 



• from a tyrant.] It is tirannie in the 

^d copies; but as this wurd is iVrquenlly mispniitcd for 
the other, 1 liave iiol rcinovfd Cii\clL-r-s enitinialion fr»in 
the text ; Ibouyh not absolutely iiecessny. 

t atid so taken 

She it with Paris the trauediun'a sliape.1 i. e. dress. 
haWU 



But still submitting to your god-like pleasure, 
Which cannot be instructed. 

Cits. I o the point. 

Parth. Nor let your sacred majesty believe 
Your vassal, that wiih drv eyes look'd upon 
His father dragg'd to death by your command. 
Can pity these, that durst jn-csume to censure 
What you decreed. 

Cics. Well ; forward. 

Parth. 'I is my zoa! 
Still to ]jreserve your clemency admirert, 
'J'emper'd with justice, that emboldens me 
To offer mv advice. Alas! 1 know, sir, 
These bookmen, Rusticus, and Palphurius Su'-a, 
Deserve all tortures : v<?t. iu my ojiijiion, • 
'i'hey being jwpular senators, and cried up 
With loud applauses of the multitude. 
For fooli.-,!) bonestv, and beggarly virtue, 
'Twould relish more ot poUcv, to have them 
Made away in private, vviih what ex(juisite tormenta 
You please, — il skills not, — than to have them drawn 
To the Degrees'* in public ; for 'tis doubted 
That the sad object nray beget compassion 
In the giddy rout, and cause some sudden <i).ii<oar 
That niav disturb you. 

Cai. Hence, ji-.ile-spirited coward! 
Can we descend so far beneath oursp'.r, 
As or to court the people's love, or fear 
'J'lieir worst of hate ' Can they, that are as dust 
Before the whirlwind of our will and power, 
Add any moment to us ? Or thou think, 
If there are gods above, or goddesses. 
But wise INlinerva, that's mine own, and sure. 
That they have vacant- hours to take into 
Their serious protection, or care, 
This many-headed monster? Mankind lives 
In ies^-, as potent monarchs, and ilieir peers ; 
Alii all those glorious constellations 
Tba>. ao "doni the firmament, appointed. 
Like grooms, with their bright influence to attend 
The actions of kings and emperors, 
'1 hey being the greater wheels that move the less. 
Bring forih those condemn'd wretches j — [Exit 

Parl/itf/iiHS.] — let me see 
One man so lost, as but to ])ity them. 
And though there 1-ay a million of souls 
Imprison 'd in his flesh, my hangmen's hooks 
Should rend it off, and give them liberty. 
Caesar hath said it. 

Re-enter Pahthenius, with Aretinus, and Guard; 
Hangmen drugging in Junius Rusticus and 
Palphuuius SuiiA, bouna hack to hack, 

Aret. 'Tis great Cajsar's pleasure. 
That with fix'd eyes you carefully observe 
The people's looks. Charge upon any man 
That with a sigh or murmur does express 
A seeming sorrow for these traitors' deaths. 
You kn6w his will, perform it. 

Ctfs. A good bloodiiound. 
And fit for my employments. 

Sura, (jive us leave 
To die, f?ll tyrant. 



• To the Degrees, &<;.' To the Scales Gemonice, aiee 
fioncil bi line ; (|J. 174 ;J Coxe.cr printed Decrees; but th. 
old copy re ids its above. The word ;« used by JoiisoD 
" I heir bodies tluown into Ihe Genioiiies, 
The ixpiilsed Apicala finds llieni ihere -, 
\V hum when the saw lie npiead on the Degrees," fi\. 



Scene II.] 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



las 



Rust. For, bevond our bodies, 
Thou Imst no power. 

Cai. Ves ; I'll iifflict your souls, 
Anl force tliem groiiiiiiitf to the Styp^i-m lake, 
Prepiired for such to howl in, that blasphenis 
The power of princes, tliat are gods on earth. 
Tremble to think how terrible the dream is 
After this sleep of death. 

/?((.-(. io guiltv men 
It mav britij; terror; not to us, that know 
What 'tis to die, well taught by his example 
For wliom we suffer. In my thought I see 
Th? stihstaace of that pure untainted soul 
Of Thrasea; our master,' made a star. 
That witli melodious harmony invites us 
(Leaving this ilunghill Rome, made hell by thee) 
To trace his heavenly steps, and (ill a sphere 
Above yon crystal canopy. 

Cats. Do invoke hini 
With all the aids his sanctity of life 
Have won on the revvarders of his virtue ; 
They shall not save you. — Dogs, do you grin ? tor- 
ment them. 

[The Hangmen torment them, iheif still smiling. 
So, take a leaf of Seneca now, and prove 
If it can ren<ler you insensible 
Of that which but begins here. Now an oil, 
Drawn from the stoic's frozen principles. 
Predominant over fire, were useful for vou. 

Again, again. You trifle. Not a groan ? 

Is mv rage lost? What cursed charms defend them! 
Senrch ( eeper, villains. Who looks pale, or thinks 
That I am cruel ? 

Aiet. Oyer-merciful : 
'lis a'l your weaknefs, sir. 

P<n(:h. I dare not show 
A sign of sorrow ; yet mv sinews shrink, 
The si)ec'acle is so horrid. [Aside. 

Cus. I was never 
O'erconie till now. For mv sake roar a little, 
And sliow you are corporeal, and not turn'd 
Ai^rial spirits.— Will it not do] 15y I'allas, 
It is unkindly done to mock his fury 
Whom the world styles Omtiipotent ! I am tortured 
In their want of feeling torments. Marius' story, 
Tiiat does report him to have sat unmoved, 
When cunning surgeons rijip'd his arteries 
And veins, to cure his gout, compared to this. 
Deserves not to be named. Are they not dead 1 
If so, we wash an ^tliiop. 

Sum. No ; we live. 

jRms'. Live to deride thee, our calm patience 
treading 
Upon the neck of tyranny. That securely. 
As 'twere a gentle slumber, we endure 
Thy liangnien's studied tortures, is a debt 
We owe to grave jihilosophy, that instructs us 
The flesh is but the clotiiing of the soul. 
Which growing out of fasloon, though it be 
Cast off", or rent, or torn, like ours, 'tis then, 
Being itself divine, in her best lustre. 
But unto such as thou, that have* no hopes 
Beyond the present, every little scar. 
The want of rest, excess of heat or cold, 
'Jhat does inform them only they are mortal, 
Pierce througli and through them. 

Cies. U e will hear no more. 



that have no hopes] Co\tterand 



M. Mason vciy incorrectly rvdd, that li.i!>i uo hope*. 



Rint. This only, and I give thee warning of it • 
Though it is in thy will to grind this earth 
As small as atoms, they thrown in the sea too, 
They shall seem re-collected to thy sense : 
And, when the sandy building of thy greatness 
Shall with its own weight totter, look to see me 
As I was yesterday, in my perfect shape , 
For I'll appear in horror. 

Cdts. By my shaking 
I am the guilty man, and not the judge. 
Drag from my sight tht-se cursed ominous wizards, 
That, as they are now, like to double-faced Janus, 
Which way soe'er I look, are furies to me. 
Away with them ! first show them death, then leave 
No memory of their ashes. I'll mock fate. 

[Eieunt Hangmen n-ith Ruuicus and Sura,* 
Shall words fright him victoriou^rmies circle 1 
No, no ; the fever does begiii to leave me ; 

Enter Domitia, Julia, and C«nis ; Stephanos fol- 
lowing. 

Or, were it deadly, from this living fountain 
I could renew the vigour of my youth. 
And be a second \'irbiust. O my glory ! 
My life ! command^ ! my all ! 

Dom. As you to me are. 

[ Kmhracing and hissing mutnaU]f, 
I heard 3'ou were sad ; 1 have prepared you sport 
Will banish melancholy. Sirrah, (;a^sar, 
(I hug myself fbr't) I have been instructing 
The players how to act ; and to cut off 
All tedious impertinence, have contracted 
The tragedy into one continued scene. 
I have the art oft, and am taken more 
With my ability tliat way, than all knowledge 
I have but of thy love. 

CiFS. Thou art still thyself. 
The sweetest, wittiest, 

Doin, V\ hen we are abed 
I'll thank your good opinion. Thou shalt see 
Such an Iphis of thy Parib§ ! — and to humble 
The pride of Domitilla, that neglects me, 
(Howe'er she is your cousin,) I have forced her 

To ])lay the ptirt of Anaxarete 

You are not oflended with it? 

Cus. Any thing 
That does content thee yields delight to me : 
IMy faculties and powers are thine. 

Dom. 1 thank you : 



• [Exeunt Hansimcn viith Rusticus and Siira ] Aftei 
Sura, CiiAfter and M. Mason ail, I, Stephanos foUowing. 
This fondiiig a man out bi-fore he comes in, is anoilter 
instance of the surpri.-in'; atleniion which Massenyer ex- 
peiienccil IVonvlhe lornier tditois. Tlie quarto reads .is it 
stands here : hangmen, too, is brouylit back in lieu of iM 
more nlodi^h lerni esicutioners. 

t And he a second Viibnis.J The name given to Hippoly 
tus after lie was restored to life by Alsculapiiis. He wa< «* 
called, say the critics, quod inter \i\oi bU J'uer it. See Tht 
j^Uieid, lib. vii. v. 765. 

J My life! command! my all! , i. e. my power! my aflJ 
This is the reading of the oUl copies, and nndi.ubledly 
genuine: the modern editors (I kimw not why) choose 
to read, My life! command myall! wliicli the reply ol 
Doniilia proves to be rank nonsense. 

'$ ■- Thou shalt *"<• 

Such an Iphis of thy Paris! «^c ] The story of Iphis 
and Anixaiele is beanlifiiH) t.ild by Ovid, in the fonrleenth 
bdok of his Metamorphos's,{\.li9i,etseq.,)Ui\\\nc\\ I refer 
the reader, as it is too long t<i be ex'racled. Mao-inger haa 
followed his leader pari passu; anil indeed the elegance 
and spirit which he has infused into these little interludes, 
canno. be too highly coinniended. 



IW 



THE KOMAN ACIOR. 



[An III. 



Prithfift let's tiike our places. Bid them enter 
Without irtore ciicumstaiite. 

After a shoit flourish, enter Paiiis as Ipiris. 

How do vou hke 
That shnpe* ? metliinks it is most suitable 
'J'o the aspect of a desjiairing- lover. 
The seemino^ late-fallen, counterfeited tears 
'Ihat Iiang upon his cheeks, was my device. 

Ctts. And all was excellent. 

Di>m. Now liear l)im speak. 

Iphis. 'J'hat she is fair, (and that an ejiithet 
Too fou! to express her,) or descended nobly, 
Or rich, or fortunate, are certain truths 
In which poor Iphis glories. 15ut ihat these 
Perfections in no other virgin found 
Abused, should TOurish cruelty and pride 
In the divines! Anaxafete, 
Is, to my love-sick languisliing soul, a riddle ; 
And with more difficulty to l)e dissolvedf. 
Than that tl)e monster Sphinx from the steep rock 
Offer'd to (Edipus. Imperious Love, 
As at thy ever-flaming- altars Iphis, 
Thy never-tired votarv. halh presented. 
Willi scalding^ tear.*, whole hecatombs of sighs, 
Preferrini; thy ))ower. and thy Paphian mother's, 
Before tlie I hunderer's, Neptune's, or Pluto's, 
(That, after Saturn, did divide ihe world, 
And liad the sway of things, >et were compell'd 
By thy inevitable shafts to Vield, 
And figlit under thy ensigns,) be auspicious 
'Jo this last trial of my sacrifice 
Of love and service ! 

Dom. Does he not act it rarely ? 
Observe with what a feeling he delivers 
His oiisons <o Cupid : 1 am rapt wiih't. 

Iphis. And from thy never-emptied {]uiver take 
A golden arrow+, to transfix her heart. 
And force her love like me ; or cure my wound 
With a leaden one, that mav beget in me 

Hate and forgetfulness of wli;it's now my idol 

But I call bacK my p'ayer; 1 have blasphemed 
In my rash wish : 'tis I that am unworthy ; 
But she all merit, and may in justice challenge. 
From the assurance of her excellencies, 
Not love but adoration. Vet, bear witness, 
All-knowing Powers ! I bring along with me, 
As faithful advocates to make intercession, 
A loyal heart with pure and holy flames, 
With the foul fires of lust never polluted. 
And, as I touch her thieshold, which with tears, 
IMy limbs benumb'd with cold, 1 oft have wash'd. 
With my glad li])s I kiss this earth grown proud 
With frequent favours from her delicate feet. 

Dom. By Cfesar's life he weeps! arid I forbear 
Hardly to keep him com])any.. 

Jphis. Blest ground, thy pardon, 
If 1 profane it with forbidden steps. 



Ilotv <to you like 



That sliape n The Uoiiiiui aot.Ji.s pLiyt-d in masks, one of 
wliicli Diinuti.i call!' a shape. — M. Masmn. ' 

That a rrla!^k was called a shape I never heard before. 
The iHct is, Ihat shaiie U a tlieairiial wtinl, and, in the 
laiiyiiaKe of the properl)-n)an. means, as has been already 
observed, llie «Im.1. cit the dress. 

+ A nd with more <liffir.utty to be dissolved, i So tlie old co- 
pies. Coxeter ai.d M. Ma-o.. read solved. 

I Ipliis. And from thy never-emptieil quiver take 

A j/<,tilen arrow, tie] Fi>r ihi.s e.\pre>.-ion, which, like a 
few ottier.s, occurs suincvUiat tuu frotpiently. Seethe Virgin 
Martyr. 



I must presume to knock — and yet attempt it 
With such a tremblin;; reverence, as if 
IMy hands [were now]* held up for expiati( n 
To the incensed god.s^to spare a kingdom, 
Within there, ho ! something divine come forth 
To a distressed mortal. 

Enter Latinus at a Porter. 

Port. Ha ! who knocks there ? 

Dom. What a churlish look this knave has \ 

Port. Is't you, sirrah ? 
Are you come to pule and whine? Avaunt, and quickly; 
Dog- whips shall drive you hence, else. 

Dom. Churlish devil ! 
But that I should disturb the scene, as I live 
I would tear bis eyes out. 

Cas. 'J'is in jest, Domitia. 

Dom. I do not like such jesting ; if he were not 
A flinty hearted slave, he could not use 
One of his form so harshlv. How the toad swells 
At the other's sweet humility ! 

Cits. 'Tis his part : 
Let them proceed, 

Dom. A rogue's part will ne'er leave him. 

Iphis. As you have, gentle sir, the haj)]iines3 
(When you please) to behold the figure of 
The master-piece of nature, limn'd to the life. 
In more than human An;Txaretp, 
Scorn not your servant, that with suppliant hands 
Takes hold upon your knees, conjuring- von, 
As you are a man, and did not suck the milk 
Of wolves and tigers, or a mother of 
A tougher temper, use some means these eyes. 
Before they are wejjt out, may see your lady. 
Will you be gracious sir? 

Port. Though I lose my place for't, 
I can hold out no longer. 

Dom. Now he melts, 
Theie is some little hope he may die honest. 

Port. Madam! 

Enter Doairiii.i.A (is Anaxarkte. 

Anax. Who calls? What object have we here ? 

Dom. Your cousin keeps her proud state still ; I 
I have fitted her for a part. [ihii:k 

Anax. Did 1 not charge thee 
I ne'er might see this thing more? 

Iphis. 1 am, indeed, [on : 

W'hat thing you please ; a worm that you may tread 
Lower I cannot fall to show my duty. 
Till your disdain hath digg'd a gj-iive to cover 
This body wiih forgotten dust; smd, when 
I know your sentence, cruellest of women ! 
I'll, by a willing death, remove the object 
That is an eyesore to you. 

Anax. Wretch, thou dar'st not : 



• I^f!/ handt [were now] held tip for expiation] I am very 
doubtful of the geniiieness of Ihi.s line. Ui tlie old copies of 
this tragedy (of which there is hut one edltinn^ ^olne read, 

AJy hands held vp, or expiation 
and others. 

My hands help tip, for expiation. 
It is evident, lioni tin- -loiniiia, that it ere is an error some- 
where, whirh was discovered at the piess,aiKl .tteippted to 
be removed : but, as it has happened more than once in 
these plajs, only excli-inyed for another. My addilion is 
harmless: but if I could haveoentiired so far, 1 should have 
read, 

JIfy hands held vp in prayer, or expiation, 
7'o,ic. 
As the line stau'ls in Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason it i:< im 
possible to read it as verse, or any tl.ing like verse. 



Scene I.J 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



187 



That were the last and greatest service to nie 
riiy doting love could boast of. Wliat dull fool 
But thou could nourish any flattering hope, 
One of my height in youth, in birth and fortune, 
Could e'er descend to look upon thy lowness, 
Much less consent to make my lord of one 
I'd not accept, though oflfer'd for my slave? 
My thoughts stoop not so low. 

Dom. There's her true nature: 
No personated scorn. 

Anax. 1 wrong my worth, 
Or to exchange a syllable or look 
With one so far beneath me. 

Iphis. Yet take heed. 
Take heed of pride, and curiously consider, 
How brittle the foundation is, on which 
You labour to adifance it. J\'iobe, 
Proud of her numerous issue, durs'. contemn 
Latona's double burthen ; but what follow'd? 
She was left a childless mother, and mourn 'd to 

marble. 
Tlie beauty you o'erprize so, time or sickness 
Can change to loaih'd deformity ; your wealth 
The prey of thieves ; queen Hecuba, Troy fired, 
Ulysses' bondwoman* : but the love 1 bring you 
Nor time, nor sickness, violent thieves, nor fate, 
Can ravish from you. 

Dom. Could the oracle 
Give betti r counsel ! 

Iphis. Sav, will you relent yet, 
Revokiiig your decree that I should die? 
Or, shall I do what you command? resolve; 
I am impatient of delay. 

Anax. Dispaich then : 
I shall look on your tragedy unmoved, 
Perad venture laugh at it; for it will prove 
A comedy to me. 

Dfim. () devil! devil! [curses 

Iphis. Then thus I take my last leave. All the 
Of lovers fall ujion you ; and, hereafter. 
When any man, like me contemn'd, shall study 
In the anguish of his soul to give a name 



To a scornful, cruel mistress, let liim only 
Say, Thi:i most bloody woman is to me, 

.^s Anaxarete was to wretched Iphis ! 

Now feast your tyrannous mind, and glory in 
The ruins you have made : for Hymen's bands. 
That should have made us one, this fiital halter 
For ever shall divorce us : at your gate. 
As a trophy of your pride and my alHiction, 
I'll presently hang myself. 

Dom. Not for the world — 

[Starts from her sea^ 
Restrain him as you love your lives ! 

Cas. Why are you 
Transported thus, Domitia ? 'tis a play ; 
Or, grant it serious, it at no part merits 
'I'his jiassion in you. 

Par. I ne'er purposed, madam. 
To do the deed in earnest ; though I bow 
To your care and tenderness of me. 

Dom. Let me, sir. 
Entreat your pardon ; what I saw presented. 
Carried me beyond myself. 

C<ts. 'J'o your place again, 
And see what follows. 

Dom. No, I am familiar 
With the conclusion; besides, upon the sudden 
I feel myself much indisposed. 

Cirs. I'o bed then ; 
I'll be thy doctor. 

Aret. There is something more 
In this than passion, — which [ must find out, 
Or my intelligence freezes. 

Dom. Come to me, Paris, 
To-morrow for your reward. 

[Exeunt all hilt Domitilla an i Slephimoi 

Steph, Patroness, hear me ; 
Will you not call for your share? sit down witii this 
And, the next action, like a Gaditane strumpet, 
1 shall look to see you tumble 1 

Domitil. Prithee be patient. 
I, that have sufter'd greater wrongs, bear this ; 
And that, till my revenge, my comfort is. [Etewu 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I,— ^ Poom in the Palace. 
Ente* Pahtiienius, Julia, Domitilla, and C«nis. 
Parth. Why, 'tis impossible. — Paris! 
Jul. You observed not. 
As it appears, the violence of her passion, 
When personating Iphis, he pretended, 



Qiwen Hecuba, Troy fir' d. 



Vlyssps' bondwoman] The>e two li.ili-lines are entirely 
mispl.tced, hikI ^llo^llll not be iiisciteil litre ; lliey afterwards 
occur in ihe second voUuiie, to wliicli passage tliey belong. 
— M. M\snN. 

Tills i- the most nnacconntalile notion that ever was 
taken np. '/'he llonian Actor was not only uritlin hut 
printed many ye»rs before 'I'he Emperor of the Ea>.t ; how, 
then, ciiiild anj lines or " h.ilf lines" be inserted into it Irom 
a pieee wliicli was not jit in e\i-tince! It nqiiired Mr. SI. 
Mason's own words to convince iiie that lie coidd range 
through Massinyer, even In his desultory way, without dis- 



For your contempt, fair Anaxarete, 
To hang himself. 

Parth. Yes, yes, I noted that ; 
But never could imagine it could work her 
'J'o such a strange intemperance of affection. 
As to doat on him. 

Domitil. liy«ny hopes, I think not 



covering his propensity to repeat himself; which is M 
obtrusive as to form one of the most characleristic traits of 
his manner. With respect to the two half lines, lliey are 
where lliey should be, and are referred to in the verse 
which follows. It may amuse the reader to see this passage 
as " it occurs again." ! 

" You are are read in story, call to your remembrance 
What Ihe great Hector's mother, Hecuba, 
Was lo Ul\.sse<, Illinm sack'vi." 

The identity m.iy admit of some question but cnoagb 

of this deplorable folly. 



188 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Act IV 



That she respects, thoufrh all here saw. arul mark'dit; 
Presuming- she ciiii mould the emperor's will 
Into what form she likes, ihougli we, and all 
The inionners of the world, consjMred to cross it. 

Cwnis. Tlien with what eagerness, this morning, 
urging' 
llie want of health and rest, she did entreat 
Cffisar to leave her ! 

Domitil. Who no sooner absent. 
But slie calls, Dwarf! (so in her scorn she styles me,) 
Put oil mi, piiiilojies ; fetch pen and paper, 
I am In uiile: — and wi ii distracted looks, 
In her smock, imjiatient of so short delay 
As but to have a irrantle thrown ujioii her, 
She seal'd — I know not what, but 'twas endorsed, 
Tu mil lorecl Paris. 

Jul. Add to this, I heard her 
Say, when a page received it. Let himwait me, 
And ciirefiiUu, in the vudk caU'd nar Retreat, 
Where Cusiir, in hisjtur to gii:e offence, 
Unsent for never enters. 

Purth. This being certain, 
(For these are more than jealous suppositions,) 
Why do not you, that are so near in blood. 
Discover it? 

Domitil.. Alas ! vou know we dare not. 
'Twill be received for a malicious jiractice, 
To free us from that slavery wiiich her i)ride 
Imposes on us. But, if you would please 
To break the ice, on pain to be sunk ever, 
We would aver it. 

Parth. I would second you. 
But that 1 am cummaniled with all speed 
To fetch in* Ascletario the Ohaldean ; 
Who, in his absence, is condemn'd of treason, 
For calculating- the nativity 
Of Cwsar, with all confidence foretelling. 
In evei-y cii-cumst-.ince, when he shall die 
A violent death. Vet, if you could !ip])rove 
Of niy directioiis, I would have you sjieak 
As mucii to Aretinus, as you have 
To me deliver'd : he in his own nature 
Being- a spy, on weaker grounds, no doubt. 
Will undertake it ; not for (roodness' sake, 
(With which he never vet held correspondence,) 
But to endear his vigilant observings 
Of wh.it concerns the emperor, and a little 
To triumph in the ruins of this Paris, 
That cross'd him in the senate-house. 

Enter Ahetinvs. 

Here he comes. 
His nose held up ; he hath something in the wind, 
Or I much err, already. My designs 
Command me hence, great ladies ; but I leave 
My wishes with you. \_Exit. 

Aret. Have 1 caught your greatness 
In the trap, my proud Augusta!, 

Domitil. What is't raps iiim ? 

Aret. And my fine Roman Actor? Is't even so? 
No co-.irser disli to take your wanton palate. 
Save th;it which, but the emperor, none durst taste of! 
'Tis very well. I needs must glory in 
This rare Ji-^covery : hut the rewards 
Of my intelligence bid me think, even now, 
By an edict from Caisar, I have power 
To tread upon the neck of Slavish Rome, 

* 7'o fL'tcli in] i. c. to seize ■ a frequent expression 



Disposing offices and provinces 
'J'o my kinsmen, friends, and clients. 

Domitil. This is more 
Than usual with him. ' 

Jnl. Aretinus ! 

Aret. How ! 
No ntore respect and reverence tender'd to me, 
JJut Aretinus! 'Tis confess'd that title. 
When you were princesses, and commanded all. 
Had been a favour ; but being, as you are. 
Vassals to a proud woman, tl)e worst bondage, 
You stand obliged with as much adoraiion 
To entertain him, that comes arai'd with. strength 
I'o break your fetters, as tann'd galley-slaves 
Pay such as do redeem ti^em from the oar. 
1 come not to entrap you ; but aloud 
J'ronounce that )ou are nianumized : and to make 
Your liberty sweeter, you shall see her fall, 
'I'his empress, this Domitia, what you will. 
That triumph'd in your miseries. 

Domitil. Were you serious, 
To prove your accusation 1 could lend 
Some lielp. 

Can. And I. 

Jill. And I. 

Aret. No atom to me. 
My eyes and ears are every where ; I know a!l 
I'o the line and action in the ]day that took her : 
Her quick dissimulation to excuse 
Mer being transporied, with her morning passion. 
1 bribed the boy that did convey the letter. 
And, having- perused it, made it up asain : 
Yotir gi-iefs and angers are lo me familiar. 
— That Paris is brought to her*, and how far 
He shall be tempted. 

Domitil. This is above wonder. 

Aret. JNJy gold can work much stranger miracles 
Than to corrupt poor waiters. Here, join with me— 
[7'o/cfs out a petition, 
'Tis a complairit to Caesar. This is that [liands 

Shall ruin her, and raise you. Have you set your 
To the accusation t 

Jill. And will justify 
What we've subscribed to. 

Can. And with vehemence. 

Domitil. 1 will deliver it, 

Aiet. Leave the rest to me then. 

Enter C^sar, ivih his Guard. 

CdS. I et our lieutenants bring us victory. 
While we enjoy the fruits of jieace at homo ; 
And being secured from our intestine foes, 
(Far worse than foreign enemies,) doubts and fears, 
'i hough all the sky were hung with blazing meteors, 
W hich fond astrologers give out to be 
Assured presages of the change of empires. 
And deaths of mon;n-ehs, we, und-.iunted yet. 
Guarded with our own thunder, bid defiance 
'!'o them and fate ; we being tuo strongly arm'd 
For them to wound us. 

Aret. Cajsar ! 

Jill. As thou art 
]\Iore than a man — 

C(£n. Let not thy passions be 
Rebellious to thy reason — 



• -—That Parit is brought to hrr.&c] A Ihie pre- 
ceding llus, seunii U> li.ive been lost ,a •!.(• prrs.s; iIm- (Irifl 
of it IS not (litliuull to guess- but 1 li.ivc uul iiieihlled witb 
the old cof-es. 



ScenkII.] 



THK ROMAN ACTOH. 



189. 



Domitil. But receive ^Delivers the petition. 

This trial of your consfancv, ns unmoved 
As ynii go to or from the capitol, 
'I'Latilcs uivpii to Jove for triumphs. 

C«.v. I la' ! 

Domitil. Vouchsafe 
A wliile to Slav tlie liglitning: of your eyes,. 
Poor mortals dare not look on. 

Aret. I here's no vein 
Of yours that rises with high rage, but is 
An eartliqiialvo to us. 

Domitil. And, if not ke])t closed 
With more tlian human jiarience, in a moment 
Will swallow us to the centre. 

Can. Not that we 
Repine to serve her, are w.e her accusers. 

Jul. But that she's fallen so low. 

Aiet. \\ hich on sure proofs 
We can make good. 

Doinilil. And show she is unworthy 
Of llie least spark of tiiat diviner lire 
You have ccnferr'd upon her. 

CVs. I stand doubtful, 
And unresolved what to determine of vou. 
In tiiis malicious violence vou have ofter'd 
'J'o the altaj- of her truth and pureness to me, 
You have but fruitlessly labour'd to sully 
A white robe of perfection, hlack-mouihM envy 
Could bidch no spot on. — Hut 1 will put oft" 
The dei'v you labour to take from me, 
And argue ourof probabilities with you. 
As if 1 were a man. Can I helieve 
That slie, that borrows all her light from me. 
And knows to use if, would betray her darkness 
To your intelligence : and make that apparent, 
Which, by her pertuibations, in a play 
Was \esierdav but doubted, and find none 
But vou, that are her slaves, and therefore liafe her, 
Who>e ai*l.s she might emjihiy to make way for her? 
Or Aretinus, whom long since she knew 
To be the cabinet counsellcr, nay. the key 
Of C.a'sar's secrets f Could her beautv raise her 
To this uneqi.all'd height, to make lier fall 
'Ihe more remarkable ! or must my desires 
To her, and urongs to Lamia, be revenged 
By her. and on herself, that drew on both 1 
Or she leave our imperial bed, to court 
A public actor ? 

Aret. ^\'ho dares contradict 
These more than human reasons, that have power 
'l"o clothe base guilt in the most glorious shape 
Of innocence ? 

Domitil. Too well she knew the strength 
And eloquence of her patron to defend her, 
And thereupon presuming, fell securely; 
Not fearing an accuser, nor the tiuth 
PrO'Uiced agai||t her, which your love and favour 
Will ne'er discern from falsehood. 

CffS I'll not hear 
A syllable more that may invite a change 
In my ojiinion of her. You have raised 
A fiercer ^var within me by this fable. 
Though with your lives you vow to make it story, 
Than if, and at one ir.stant, all my legions 
Revolted irom me, and came arm'd against me. 
Here in this paper are the swords predestined 



• Cits. If a .'] Omitted by Mr. M. Mason, to the destruc- 
tion ut' liis metre. 



For my destruction ; here the fatal stars. 

That threaten more than ruin ; this thi^ death's head 

1'hat does assure me, if she cm j^rove false, 

'I'hat I am mortal, which a sudilen ifver 

Would prompt me to believe, and faintly yield to. 

But now in my full confidence what she sutlers. 

In that, from anv witness but mvself, 

I nourish a su.>]:i('ion she's untrue. 

My toughness re'urns to me. I>e:!d on, monsterSj 

And, by the forfeit of your lives confirm 

She is all excellence, as von all l)asene.ss ; 

Or let mankind, fur her fall, boldly swear 

There are no chaste wives now, nor ever were*. 

[ Exeunt. 

SCENE \l—A private Walk in the Gardens of tim 
Palace. 

Enter Domitia, PAnis, and Servants. 

Dam. Say we command that none presume to dare, 
On forfeit of our favour, that is life. 
Out of a sauiv curiousnes, to stand 
Within the distance of their eyes or ears. 
Till we please to be waited oii. [ E.iennt Servanti, 

And, sirrah, 
Howe'er you are excepted, let it not 
Beget in you an iirrngant opinion 
'Tis done to grace you. 

Par. W'ith my humblest service 
I but obey your summons, and should blush else. 
To be so near vou. 

Dom. 'Twould become you rather 
To fear the greatness of the grace vouchsafed yoa 
May overwhelm you ; and 'twill do no less, 
If, when you are rewarded, in your cujis 
You boast this privacy. 

Par. 'Ihai were, mightiest empress, 
To play with lightning. 

Dom. You conceive if^right. 
The means to kill or save is not alone 
In Caesar circumscribed ; for, if incensed. 
We have our thunder too, that strike.s as deadly. 

Par. 'Twould ill become the lowness of my for- 
'J'o question what you can do, but witli all [tune, 
Humility to attend what is your will. 
And then to serve it. 

Dom. And would not a secret, 
Suppose we should commit it to your trust. 
Scald you to keep it? 

Par. Though it raged within me 
Till I turti'd cinders, it should ne'er have vent. 
To be an age a dying, and with torture. 
Only to be thought worthy of your (OunselK 
Or actuate wliat you command to me:f, [ledge,' 

A wretched obscure thing, not worth your know* 
Were a perpetual happiness. 

Dom. We could wish 



• Or let mankind, for her fall, holdlij swear 

'J here are nu ulia-te vim's now, nor ivrr iverel The 
" goflliku Civs;ir" forgets tli.it the chastity <,( lionnlia had 
long oiMScil 1(1 lie a in.nicr ofdonlit. 

j Only to he thoiiyht worthy of your connf.t\,] The uiotlcrn 
editors, «liii appear not to have niKli'rstood Ihi' wont, read 
council for covnsel: but (he l.iller is lisjht. It mciuf secrecy, 
anil ,so it is fiiquinily used, not only by Massinger, but ty 
all the writers of liis linn : 

" Hilt wh.u they <lid tliire is counsel to nie, 

BfCiiise lluy l.iy late the mst (l..\." Old DnUad. 
t Or actuate what you command to me,] Here artnate ia 
nsed lor at.•^ a.- act is iiseil by some of our best poeis, and 
Pope among llie rest, but willi less propiiely, lor actuate. 



i»0 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Act IV 



That we could credit tliee, and cannot find 

In reiison.biit tliar tlioii. wliom oft 1 have seen 

'lo personate a gentleaian, noble, wise. 

Faithful and f^ainiionie, and what virtues else 

The poet ]ile;ises to adoni you with ; 

But that (as vessels still partake the odour* 

Of tlie sweet precious litpiors lliey contain'd) 

Thou must he reaUv, in some deur^e, 

The thino- thou dost ])resent. — \ay, do not tremble; 

We seriously believe it. and ]iresunie 

Our Paris is the volume in which all [with, 

Those excellent <;irts the stage hath seen him graced 

Are curi )U:jly bound up. 

Pur. The argument 
Is the same, great Augusta, that I, acting 
A fool, a coward, a traitor, or cold cynic, 
Or any other weak and vicious person. 
Of force 1 must he such, O gracious madam, 
How glorious soever, or deform'd, 
1 do appear in the scene, my ])art being ended, 
And all my borrow'd ornaments put oft", 
1 am no more, nor less, than what I was 
Before 1 enter'd. 

iJom. Come, you would put on 
A willul ignorance, and not understand 
What 'tis we point at. JMust we in ])lain language, 
Against tlie decent modesty of our sex, 
8av that we love thee, love tlide to enjoy thee; 
Or thiit ill our desires thou art preferr'd 
And Cifsar bu' thy second 1 'J'liou injustice, 
If from tlie height of majesty we can 
Look down upon thv lowness, and embrace it, 
Art hound with fervour to look up to me. 

Par. O, madam ! hear me with a patient ear, 
And l)e but ])leased to understand the reasons 
'I'liat ilo deter me iVom a happiness 
Kings would be i-ivals for. Can 1, that owe 
My li!e, and all that's mine, to Caesar's bounties, 
Beyond my hopes or merits, showrrM upon me, 
Make payment lor ihem with ingratitude. 
Falsehood, and treason I Tiiough you have a shape 
Might tenijjt Ilippolytus, and larger power 
To lielp or hurt than wanton Pha-dra had, 
Let lovaltv and duty ]>leail my pardon, 
'J'hougli ] refuse to satisfy. 

Dom. You are coy, 
Expecting I should court you. Let mean ladies 
U.se prayers and entreaties to their creatures 
To rise u[) instruments to serve their pleasures ; 
But for Augusta so lo lose herself, 
That holds command o'er Cffisar and the world. 
Were poverty of sj)irit. 'I'hou must, tliou shalt: 
The violence of my jiassion knows no mean, 
And ni my puiiisi)ments, iiiul my rewards, 
I'll use no moderation, 'lake this only, 
As a caution from me ; threadbare chastity 
Is poor in the advancement of her servants. 
But wantonness magnificent: and 'lis frequent 
To liave the salary of vice weigh down 
The [ay of virtue. Sp, without more trifling 
Thy sudden answer. 

Par. In what a strait am I brought inf ! 



• (as vessfls still i artuke the odour 

Of the sweet , rec'mts liquors they coiitiiin dj] 
Quoa seinel est imbuta receiis servabit odorem 
I est a din. HoR. 

f P.tr. Ill what a strait am I brought \i\\\ Cuxctcr and 
M. Masuii I'c.Ki, 

Oil ! what a strait am I brought in ! 
Thii is, pcrliap^, n buUei' muilu ul' vxpics^iuii ; but we should 



Alas! I know that the denial's death ; 

Nor can my grant, discover'd, threaten more. 

Yet, to die innocent, and have the glory 

For all posterity to report, that I 

Refused an em|)ress, to preserve my faith 

To my great master ; in true judgment, must 

Show fairer than to buy a guilty life 

With wealth and honour. 'Tis the base I build on; 

I dare not, must not, will not. 

Dom. How! contemn'd ? 
Since hopes, nor fears, in the extremes prevail not, 
I must use a mean. Think who 'lis sues to thee; 
Deny not that yet, which a brother may 
Grant to his sister : as a testimony 

Enter C;esar, Aketinus. Juma. Domitilla, C;-enis, 
and a Guard behind. 

I am not scorn'd, kiss me ; — kiss me again : 
Kiss closer. Thou art now my Trojan Paris, 
And I thy Helen. 

Pur. .Since it is your will. 

Cas. And I am .\ienelaus; but I shall be 
Something I know not vet. 

Diwi. Why lose we time , 

And opportunity I These are but salads 
'i'o sharpen appetite : let us to the feast, 

[Cotirliiig Paris uanlonly. 
Where 1 shall wish that tlmu wert Jupiter, 
And I Alcmena ; and that I had power 
'i'o lengthen out one short night into three. 
And so beget a Hercules. 

Ca's. [Comesjorward.^ While Amphitrio 
Stands by, and draws the curtains 

Pur. Oh ! [Fulls on hinjace. 

Dom. Betray'd ! 

Ca-s. No ;■ taken in a net of Vulcan's filing. 
Where, in myself, the theatre of the gods 
Are sad s])eclators, not one of them daring 
To witness, with a smile, he does desire 
'lo be so shamed for all the jileasure that 
You've sold your being for! What shall 1 name 

thee? 
Ingrateful, treacherous, insatiate, all 
Invectives which, in bitterness of spirit, [men, 

Wrong'd men have breathed out against wicked wo- 
Cannot express thee ! Have I raised thee f oiu 
'i'hy low condition to the height of greatness. 
Command, and majesty, in one base act 
'i'o render me, that was, before 1 hugg'd thee*, 
An adder, in my bosom, more than man, 
A thing beneath a beast ! Did 1 furce these 
Of mine own blood, as handmaids to kneel to 
'I'hy pomji and pride, having myself no thought 
But how with benefits to bind thee mine ; 
And am i thus rewarded ! Not a knee. 
Nor tear, nor sign of sorrow for ihy fault? 
i3reak stubborn silence : wliat canst^iou allege 
To stay my vengeance 1 



confound nil times, if we thus iiiodernized every plnase which 
appears iinconlli to onr ejes and ears : add too, ili.it similar 
redimdaiicies aie to be IhiiikI in alinoft every p:,ge i.f our old 
writers, and above all, in Massinsjer! An inslaiice occuri 
just below : ' 

of which, if again 

I could lie ignorant of, &c. 
• To render me that was, be/ore J hugg'd thee,] This and 
the two I'.llowiMs; liiies h.ive been luilieito p iiited and 
pointed ill a very unintelligible iii.iniiur. iVlr. M. Mason 
tried to lel'oiin llieni, but l.nled : the simple removal of a 
bracket in ibe old copies restores (hem to sense. 



SCENK III.'] 



THE ROMAN ACTOR, 



191 



Dnm, Tliis, — lliv lust compell'd me 
To be a stniin]ni, mid mine liafli return'd it 
In my intent i>iid will, tlioui^ii not in act, 
To ciickoiil tliec. 

C<ti. O, imjindence ! take lier lience, • 
And let l)t*r make lier entrance into hell, 
By leavin;^ life wirli all the torlnres that 
Flesli can 1)6 sensible of. Yet stay. What power 
Her beauty siill holds o er my soul, that wrongs 
Of this unpardonable nature cannot teach me 
To rit;ht myself, and haie her! — Kill her. — Hold! 

that my dotaj;e should increase from that 
Which should breed detestation ! JSy Minerva, 
If 1 look on her longer I shall melt 

(^nd sue to lier, my injuries ihv^ot. 

Again to be received into her favour ; 

Could honour yield to it! Carry her to her 

chamber* ; 
Be tliat her jirison, till in cooler blood 

1 shall determine of her. [^E-iit Guard with Domilia. 

Aret. Now step I in, 
While he's in this calm mood, for my reward. 
Sir, if my service hath deserved — 

Ctes. Yes, yes : 
And I'll reward thee. Thou bast robb'd me of 
All rest and peace, and been the principal means 
To make me know that, of wliich if again 
I co&ld be ignoiant of, I wouKi purchase it 

Re-enter Gwird. 

With the loss of empire : Strangle him ; take these 

hence too, 
And lodge them in the dungeop. Could your reason. 
Dull wretches, flatter vou with hojie to think 
That this discovery, that hath shower'd upon me 
Perpetual vexation, should not fliU 
Heavy on you ? Away with them ! — stop their mouths, 
I will hear no replv. 

[Exit Guard triih Aretiniis Julia, CiEiiis, 
II nd Domitilta. 

— O, Paris, Paris: 
How shall I argue with tliee f how Ixgin 
To make thee understand, before I kill lliee [me ? 
With what grief and unwillingness 'tis forced from 
Yet, in respect 1 have fav<iur'd thee, I'll hear 
What thou canst speak to qualify or excuse 
Thy readiness to serve this woman's lust; 
And which thou couldst give me such satisfaction, 
Aa I might bury the remembrance of it. 
Lookup: we stand attentive. 

i'ar. O, dread Ca?sar ! 
To hope for life, or plead in the defence 
Of my ingratitude, weie again to wrong you. 
I know 1 jnive deserved death; and my suit is, 
That you would hasten it: yet, that your highness, 
When I am dead, (as sure 1 will not live,) 
May pardon me, I'll only urge my frailty, 
Her will, and the temptation of that beauty 
Which you could not resist. How could poor I, 

then, 
Fly that which follow'd me, and Caesar sued for? 
This is all. And now your sentence. 

CtfS. Which 1 know not 
How to pronouni e. O that thv foult had beea 
But such as 1 might pardon ! if thou hadst 
In wantonness, like jsiero, fired jjroud Rome, 



* Carry her to \\tr chamber ; &c.] Mr. M. Mason reads 
my c-anibur, slraiigily eiioiigli ; but, indeed, this wliule 
Meuc is very carelessly given by liim. 



Betray'd an armv, but< her'd the whole senate ; 

Committed sacrilege, or any crime 

The justice of our Roman laws caUs death, 

I hud prevented any intercession, 

And freely .-ign'd thy pardon. 

Par. But for this, 
A!as ! you cannot, nay, you must not, sir; 
Nor let it to posterity be recorded, 
I'hat Citsar, unreveni;ed, sufl'er'd a wrong. 
Which, if a private man should sit down with it, 
Cowards would battle him. 

Cits. With sncli true feeling 
Thou arguest against thyself, that it 
Works more upon me, than if my .Minerva, 
The grand jirotrectress of my life and empire. 
On forfeit ot' her favour, cried aloud, 
Caisar, show mercy ! and, 1 know not how, 
I am inclined to it. Rise. I'll jiromise nothing; 
Yet clear thy cloudy fears, aud cheri>h hoj)es. 
What we must do, we shall do: we remember 
A tragedy we oft have seen with pleasure, 
Caird The False i:'ervaiit. 

Par. Such a one we have, sir. 

Cas. In which agreatJord* takes to his protection 
A mati forlorn, giving hitn ample power 
To order and dispose of his estate 
In's absence, he ]>reten(ling then a journey: 
But yet with this restraint that, on no terms, 
('I'his lord suspecting iiis wife's constancy, 
Siie having play'd false to a former iiusbaiid,) 
'I'lifc servant, though solicited, shou'd consent, 
'iiiough slie commanded him, to (piench her flames. 

Par. 'I'hat was, indeed, tlie argument. 

CdS. And what 
Didst thou play in it? 

Par. Thi- Jaise seriuiit, sir. [without? 

Cus. Thou didst, indted. Do the jdayers wait 

Par. 'I'hey do. sir, and prepared to act the story 
Ycur majesty niention'd. 

Cirs. Call them in. Who presents 
The injured lord ? 

Killer /Ilsopvs, Laiinus, and a Lady. 

Msop. 'lis my part, sir. 

Cus. 1 hou didst not 
Do It to the life ; we can perform it better. [not 

Off with my robe and wreath: since Nero scorned 
'1 he public theatre, we in private may 
Disport ourselves. This cloak and hat, without 
Wearing a beard, or other property, 
Will fit the person. 

^snp. Onlv, sir, a foil. 
The point and edge rebated, when you act. 
To do the murder. If you please to use this. 
And lay aside your own sword. 

Cics. Bv no means. 
In jest nor earnest this parts never from me. [lady 
\\ e'll have but one short scene — That, where the 
In an imperious way commands the servant 
To be unthankful to his patron : when 
]\ly cue's to enter, prompt me : — Nay, begin, 
And do it sprightly : though but a new actor. 
When 1 coiue to execution, you shall find 
No cause to laugh at me. 

Lot. In the name of wonder. 
What's Ca'sar's purpose ! 

• Cws. hi which a yreat lord, &c.] Tlie iiindctn edition! 
give lliis st)*ecli and tr t m xl l(i I'ans. Tlie blniidei , u liich 
is palpable eiioiigli, oiii;iiiaIeil witii Cnxelei, and llie juosl 
accurate ol all editors uiitortaiialily followed liiiii. 



192 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



Msop, There's is no contending. 

Ctts. Wliv, wlien* ? 

Par. 1 am arm'd : 
And, stood grim Death now in my view, and his 
Inevitable dart aim'd at my breast. 
Ills cold embraces should not bring an ague 
To any of my faculties, till his pleasures fyears 

Were served and satisfied ; which done, Nestor's 
To me would be unwelcome. \_Aside. 

Ladij. Must we entreat, 
That were born to command '! or court a servant, 
That owes his food and clothins; to our bounty, 
For that, which thou ambitiously shouldst kneel for? 
Urge not, in tliv excuse^he favours of 
Thy absent lord, or that thou stand'st engaged 
For tliy life to his charity ; nor thy fears 
Of what mav follow, it being in my power 
To mould him any way. 

Pur. As you may me, 
In what his reputation is not wounded, 
Nor 1, his creature, in my thankfulness suffer. 
I know you're young and fair; be virtuous too, 
And loyal to his bed, that hath advanced you 
To the height of happiness.. 

Ladu. Can my lovesick heart 
Be cured with counsel ! or dur.st reason ever 
OflTer to put in an exploded plea 
In the court of ^'enus? iMv desires admit not 
The least delay ; and therefore instantly 
Give me to understand what I must trust to: 
For, if J am refused, and not enjuy 
Those ravishing pleasures from thee, I run mad fcr, 
I'll swear unto my lord, at his return, 
(Making what 1 deliver good with tears,) 
That brutishly. thou wcu'-^'st have forced from mo 
What J make suit for. And then but itnngine 
What 'tis to die, with tliese words, slave and t'-'tiiai', 
With burning corsivesfwrit upon thy foreheau, 
And live prepared fbr't. 
Par. This he will believe 



Up T. her information, 'tis apparent ; 

And then I'm no'hing: and of two extremes, 

Wisdom says, choose the less. Ra'nerthan fall 

Under your indignation, I wdl yield : 

This kiss, and this, confirms it, 

JEsnp. JVow, sir, now. 

Cits. 1 must take them at it ? 

JEosop. Ves, sir ; be but perfect. [now, 

Cifs. villain ! thankless villain ! — I should talk 
Rut I've forgot my part. But I can do : , 
Thus, thus, and thus ! [St(j/« Parit. 

Par. Oh! I am slain in earnest. [I'aris; 

Ctts. 'lis true ; and 'twas my purpose, my good 
And yet, before life leave thee, let the honour 
I've done thee in thy death bring lomfiirt to thee. 
If it had been within the power ofCivsar, 
His dignity jireserved, he had pardon'd thee : 
But cruelty of honour did deny it. 
Yet, to confirm I loved thee, 'twas my study 
To make thy end more glorious, to distinguish 
My Baris from all others; and in that 
Have shown my pity. Nor would I let thee fall 
By a centurion's sword, or have thy limbs 
Rent piecemeal by the hangman's hook, however 
Thy crime deserved it : but, as thou did.-t live 
Itome's bravestactor, 'twas my plot tliat thou 
Shouldst die in action, and, to crown ir, die. 
With an applause enduring to all times, 
Uy Qur imperial hand. — His soul is freed 
From the ])rison of his flesh ; let it mi.unt upward? 
And for this trunk, when that the funeral pile 
llatii made it aslies, we'll see it enclosed 
la a golden urn ; poets adorn his hearse 
With their most ravishing sorrows, and the stage 
¥('.r ever mourn him, and all such as were 
His glad spectators weep his sudden death, 
The cause forgotten in his ejjitaph. 

\_A sad music ; the Plmiers hear off Parti 
body, Cuiur and the rest J oilowing^ 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — A Tionm in the Palice, uith an Inuige of 
Minerva. 

Enter PA^TI^EMus, Stephanos, a."rf Guard. 

Parth. Keep a strong guard upon him, and admit 
Access to any, to exilianue a word [not 

Or syllable with him, till the emperor pleases 
To call him to his presence. — [L'ajt Guarri.] — The 

relation 
That you have made me, Stephanos, of tliese late 
Strange passions in Cassar, much amaze me. 
The informer Aretinns put to death 
For yielding him a true discovery 
Of tlie empress' wantonness; poor Paris kill'd first, 



• If hy, when?] Tliis is maikcd hy tlie cclildrs as an im- 
perfoci .-|)ii(li ; it is, Imwevir, ci)iii|ilclo ; ami occurs con- 
tinually ill our >>).! iliaiiias, as a ni.nk of iiiipatniirc. 

+ // itii biiruhi;! coi>iv<s writ vpon thy J'orehead,] See 
The Emjieror of' the Eaul, 



And now lamented ; and the princesses 
Confined to several islands; yet Augusta, 
The machine on uliicli all this miscliief moved, 
Received again to grace! •• 

Siepli. Nay, courted to it : 
Such is the i;n])ottnce* of his affection ! 
Vet, to conceal his weakiicss, he gives out 
The ]ieo|de made suit for her, whom they hate more 
'J ban civil war, or famine. But take heed. 
My lord, that, nor in your ( onsent nor wishes, 
^ oil lent or furtherance or favour to 
'J he plot contrived against her : should she prove it, 
IS ay, doubt it (>nly, you are a lost man, 
Her power o'er doting Ca>sar being now 
Greater than ever. 

Purth. "1 is a truth I shake at ; 
And, when tliere's oj)portunity 

* .S'lich is the impotinci- o/ hh afn-tion!] i. e. rt» yn\ 
govtriiablciitas, the vnicontroll.il/lc violiuce. 



Scene I. 



THE ROMAN ACTOa. 



199 



Steph. Say but, Do, 
I am yours, and sure. 

Parth. I'll stand one trial more. 
And tlien you sliall hear from me. 

Steph. Now observe 
The foiulness of this tyrant, and her pride. 

[T/iei/ utand aside. 

Enter C.f:sAR and Domitia, 

C<es. Nay, all's forgotten. 

Dom. It may be, on your part. 

Cus. Foroiven too, Domitia : — 'tis a favour 
That you should welcome with more cheerhil looks. 
Can Ca\sar ])ardon wliat you durst not hope for, 
That did the injury, and yet must sue 
To her, whose "guilt is wa»h'd off by his mercy. 
Only to entt-rtain it ? 

Dom. I asli'd none •, 
And I should be more wretched to receive 
Remission (or wliat I hold no crime. 
But by a bare acknowledgment, than if, 
By slighting- and contemning- it, as now, 
I dared thy utmost fury. Tliough thy fiatterefs 
Persuade thee, that thy murders, lusts, and rapes. 
Are virtues in thee ; and what pleases Ca-sar, 
Though never so unjust, is right and lawful; 
Or work in thee u false belief that thou 
Art more than mortal ; yet I to thy teeth. 
When circled with thy guards, thy rods, thy axes, 
And all tlie ensigns of tby boasted power. 
Will say, Domitian, nay, add to it Cajsar, 
Is a weak, leeble man, a bondman to 
His violent pa.->sions, and in that my slave ; 
Nay, more ujy slave than my affections made me 
To my loved Paris. 

Citi. Can I live and hear this'' 
Or hear, and not revenge it? Come, you know 
The strength thai you hold on me, do not use it 
With too much cruelty ; for though 'tis granted 
That Lvdiiin Omphale had less command 
O'er Hercules, than vou usurp o'er me, 
Reason may teocli me to shake off the yoke 
Of my fond dotage 

Don. Never; do not hope it ; 
It cannot be. Thou being my beauty'^ captive. 
And not to be redeeni'd, my empire's larger 
Than thine, Domitian, which I'll exercise 
With rigour on ihee, for niy Paris' death. 
And, when I've forced those eyes, now red with fury, 
I'o drop down tears, in vain spent to appease me, 
( know thy fervour sijch to my embraces, [thee, 

\A Inch sliall be, thougli still kneel'd for, still denied 
That thou with lanuuishrnent shaltwish my actur 
Did live again, so thou mightst be his second 
To feed upon those delicates, when he's sated*. 

Cas. my JMinerva! [her: 

Dom. There she is (points to the statue). Invoke 
8he cannot arm thee with ability 
Todra\v thy sword on me, my power being greater : 
Or only say to thy centurions. 
Dare none of you do what I shake to think on, 
And in this woman's death remove the furies 
That every hour afflict me? — Lamia's wrongs, 
When thy lust forced me from him, are in me 
At the height revenged; nor woula I outlive Paris, 

• To feed vpon those delicaten, when lie's s.-itc(l.] So llie 
old copits : but the iiiudtrii editors, l.iiulably solu-iious hjr 
the sense, as well as the iiietie, ot' iheir autlior, cuncur in 
reading, 

Itjeed upon those delicates, when lie were eatedl 



But that thy love, increasing with my hate, 
IVIay add unto thy torments ; so, with all 
Contempt 1 can, I leave thee. • [Exil. 

Cai. J am lost. 
Nor am 1 Cresar. When I first betray'd 
The freedom of my faculties and will 
To this imperious siren, 1 laid dovtn 
The erapii-e of the world, and of myself. 
At her proud feet. Sleep all my ireful powers! 
Or is the magic of mv dotage such, 
'Ihat I must still make suit to hear those charms 
'i'hat do increase my thraldom ! W ake, mv anger; 
For shame, break through this U thargy, and appear 
With usual terror, and. enable me, 
Since I wear not a sword to pierce her hea;t, 
Nor have a tongue to say this, Let her die. 
Though 'tis done wiih a fever- shaken h.uid, 

[Vulls out a tiilde book. 
To sign her death. Assist me, great Minerva, 
And vindicate thy votary ! (urites) So ; she's novr 
Amiing the list of those I r^we proscribed. 
And are, to free me of my doubts and fears. 
To die to-morrow. 

Steph. That same fiital book 
Was never drawn yet, but some me») of rank 
Were mark'd out for destruction. [L'lil 

Parth. 1 begin 
To doubt myself. 

Ctis. Who waits there? 

Parth. C-JBsar. 
, Cut. So! 
These, that command arm'd troops, quake at my 

frowns. 
And yet a woman slights them. Where's the wizard 
We chaiged you to fetch in? 

Part A, Ready to suffer 
What death you please to appoint him. 

Ctes. Bring him in. 
We'll question him ourself. 

E/iter Tribunes, and Guard with AscU':T.4nio. 
Now, you, that hold 
Intelligence with the stars, -aud dai-e prefix 
The day and hour in which we are to part 
With life and empire, punctually foretelling 
'I'he means and manner of our violent end ; 
As you would purchase credit to your art, 
Hesolve me, since you are assured of us, 
W hat liite attends yourself? 

Ascle. I have had long since 
A ceitain knowledge, and as sure as thou 
Shalt die to-morrow, being the fourteenth of 
The '/alends of October, the hour live ; 
Spite of prevention, this carcass shall be 
Torn and devour'd by dogs ;— and let that stand 
For a firm prt diction. 

Cas. Way our body, wretch. 
Find never nobler sepulchre, if this 
Fall ever on thee ! Are we the great disposer 
Of life and death, yet cannot niock the stars 
In such a trifle ? Hence with the imjioslor ; 
And having cut his throat, erect a pile 
Guaided with soldiers, till his cursed trunk 
Be turn'd to ashes- upon forfeit of 
Your life, and theirs, perform it. 

Ascle. ' lis in vain ; 
When what I have foretold is made apparent, 
Tremble to think what follows. 

Cies. Drag him hence, 

[T/ie Tribunes and Guards hear off Ascletario. 



19» 



TriE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Ac- y 



And do as I command you. I was never 

Fuller of confidence ; for, having- got 

The viclory ofmv passions, in my freedom 

From proud Domitia (who sliall cease to live, 

Since she disdnins to love), I rest unmoved : 

And, in defiance of prodigious meteors, 

Chaldeans' vain predictions, jealous fears 

Of my near friends and freedmen. certain hate 

Of kindred and alliance, or all terrors 

The soldiers' doubted faith or p(>o[)Ie's ra2;e 

Can brine: to shake my coiistancv, 1 am aiin'd. 

Tliat scrupulous thing styled conscience is sear'd 

up, 
And I, insensible of all my nctions, 
For which, by moral and relij;ious fools, 
I stand condemn'd, as thev had never been. 
And, since I ItMve subdued triumphant love, 
I will not deify pale captive fear, 
Nor iu a thought receive it. For, till thou, 
Wisest Minerva, tliat from my first youth 
Hast been my solo protectress, dost forsake me. 
Not Junius ilusticus' threaten'd apparition*. 
Nor what this soothsayer but even now foreiold, 
Being things impossible to human reason. 
Shall in a drefim disturb me. Bring my couch 

there : 
A sudden but a secure drowsiness 
Invites me to repose myself. I,et music. 
With so:ne choice ditty, second it : — [Eri< Parthe- 

»i«s.] — the mean time. 
Res. there, dear book, which oi)en'd, when I wake, 
[^Lnys the btwk iinder his pillow.i 
Shall make some sleep for ever. 

[ilJitMC unci a song. Ctesar sleeps. 

Re-enter Pahtiienius and Domitia. 

Dum. Write my name 
In his bloody scroll, Parthenius ! the fear's idle: 
He durst not, could not. 

Piirlh. I can assure nothing ; 
But 1 observed, when you departed from him. 
After -ome little passion, but much fury. 
He drew it out : whose death lie sigu'd, I know not; 
But in his looks aj)pear'il a resolution 
Of what before he staggerVl at. What he hath 
Determined of is uncertain, but too soon 
Will fall on you, or me, or both, or any. 
His jdeasure known to the tribui;es and centurions, 
Who never use to enquire his will, but serve it. 
Now, if, out of the confitlence of your power, 
'1 he bloody catalogue bein;.; still about him. 
As he sleeps you dare peruse it or remove it. 
You may instruct yourself, or what to suffer. 
Or how to cross it. 

Dom. 1 would not be caught 
With too much confidence. By your leave, sir. Ha! 
No motion I you lie uneasy, sir. 
Let uie mend your pillow. ITakes the booh. 

Ptirth. Have you it ? 

Doin. 'Tis here, 

Cces. Oh ! [madam, 

Parlh. You have waked him: softly, gracious 

• Xor Juiiius Brnficiia' (lircaien'i) apparition.] Act III. 
w. ii 

1 [fjat/s (he booh under his pillow.] Nolliing (as I have 
mon; lli.iii mice- had iicc.iMoii to i bM-rve) can be more care- 
less lli.iii llie 5t.i^t-(iircctii)ns in ilie iiiodciu editimis. Here 
tlicy buili mdk|.- Caesar la!! aflotp in tlic- iniilst ofliis speecli, 
«l>icli, iie\ertlitles», tliey botli buUtr liim to continue 1 



While* we are unknown ; and then consult at-lcisurp 

[Exeunt. 

Dreadful music. The App'iritioiis of .Tunius Ri's- 
Ticus and Pai.piiuhius '•ura rise, tvith bloodii swordi 
iu their handi ; thei/ wave then over the head 'f 
CvESAR, who seems troubled in his sleep, and as if 
priii/ing t> the linage of Mineria, which they scorn- 
Jiillif seize, and then disappear iciih it. 

Cits. Defend me, goddess, or this horrid dream 
Will force me to distraction ! whither have 
These furies borne thee ? Let me rise and follow, 
I am bathed o'er with the cokl sweat of death. 
And am ileprived of organs to pursue 
These sacrilegious spirits. Am I at one" 
Hobb'd of my hopes and being ? No, I live — 

[i?tsM distractedly. 

Yes, live, and have discourse!, to know myself 

Of gods and men forsaken. What accuser 

Within me cries aloud. L have deserved it, 

In being just to neither? Who dares sppak this? 

Am I. not Civsar ? — How! again repeat it ? 

Presumptuous traitor, thou shaltdie! — What traitor] 

He that hath been a traitor to himself, 

And stands convicted here. Y'et who can sit 

A competent judge o'er Cvesar? Ca'sar. Yes, 

Cicsar by Ca;sar's sentenced, and must suffer; 

Rlinerva cannot save him. Ha I where is shef I 

Where is my goddess? vanisb'd ! I am lost then. 

No ; 'twas no dream, but a most real truth, 

That .lunius Rustitus and Palpliurius Sura, 

Althougii their ashes were cast in the sea, 

Were by their innocence made up again. 

And in corporeal forms but now appear'd. 

Waving their bloody swords above my head, 

As at their deaths they threaten'd. And, methought, 

Minerva, ravish'd hence, whis|)er'd that she 

Was, for my blasphemies, disarm'd by Jove, 

And could no more protect me. Yes, 'twas so, 

[Thunder and lightning 
His thunder does confirm it, against which, 
Howe'er it spare the laurel, this proud wreath 

Enter three Tribunes. 
Is no assurance. Ha ! come you resolved 
To be my executioners? 

1 Trib. Allegiance 

And faith fort)iii that we should lift an arm 
Against your sacred head. 

2 Trib. We rather sue 
For mercy. 

3 Trib. And acknowledge that injustice 
Our lives are forfeited for not performing 
What C-Rsar charged us. 

I Trib. Nor did we transgress it 



* softly, gracious madam. 

While we are unknown,] i. e. until: a very common ac- 
ceptation of tlie word in our old writers. So Beaumont and 
Flelrher : 

" 1 may be convoy'd into your chamber, I'll lie 

Under your bed while midnight." fVit at several ff-'eapons. 
And Waller : 

" l{le.<siiigs may be repeated while they cloy : 
But shall we starve because fruition's joy ?" 

1 Yes, live, and have discourse,] i. e. reason or judgment. 

j /la ! where is she ! 

Where is my yoddessf] Thi» attachment of Uomitian to 
Minerva is uii i istoiical fact. He chose her at an early 
period of Ins lite fur liis proteclre.-s, mulliplit-d tier statues to 
a great extent, and had slwa^s a strong reliance on her 
favour. If llie reader wishes for more on the subject, he 
may turn to the editor's translation of Juveual, Sat. Vil 



Scene II.] 



rilE ROMAN ACTOR. 



19» 



In our want of will or care ; for, being but men, 
It could not be in us to make resistance, 
The gods fighting against us. 

C<E<. Speak, in wliat 
Did thev express their anger ? we will hear it. 
But dare not say, undaunted. 

1 Trib. In brief thus, sir : 
ITie sentence given by your imperial tongue, 
For the astrologer Ascletario's death. 
With speed was put in execution, 

C<es. Well. [his arms 

1 Tn>>. For, his throat cut, his legs bound, and 
Pinion'd behind his back, the breathless trunk 
Was witli all scorn dragg'd to the field of IMars, 
And there, a pile being raised of old dry wood, 
Smear'd o'er with oil and brimstone, or what else 
Could help to feed or to increase the fire, 
The carcass was thrown on it ; but no sooner 
The stuff, tii;it was most a])t, began to flame, 
But suddenly, to the amazement of 
The fearless soldier, a sudden flash 
Of lightning, breaking through the scatter'd clouds. 
With sutli a horrid violence forced its passage, 
And, a> disdaining all heat but itself. 
In a moment quench 'd tlie artificial fire : 
And before we could kindle it again, 
A clap of tliunder foHow'd with such noise, 
As if then Jove, incensed against mankind, 
Had in iiis secret purposes determined 
An universal ruin to the world. 
This liorror past, not at Deucalion's flood 
Such a stormy shower of rain (and yet that word is 
Too Uiirrow to express it) was e'er seen : 
Imagine rather, sir, that with less fury 
The waves rush down the cataracts of Nile ; 
Or thai the sea, spouted into the air 
By the angry Ore, endangering tall ships 
But sailing near it, so falls down again. 
Yet lu^re the wonder ends not, but. begins: 
For, as in vain we labour'd to consume 
The wizard's body, all the dogs of Rome, 
Howling and yelling like to famish 'd wolves. 
Brake in upon us ; and fhougii thousands were 
Kill'd in tir attempt, some did ascend the pile. 
And with their eager fangs seized on the carcass. 

Cics But have they torn it ? 

1 Trih, 'i'orn it and devour'd it. 

Ctf$. I then am a dead man, since all predictions 
Assure me I am lost. O, n.y loved soldiers, 
Your tmperor must leave you ! yet, however 
I cannot grant myself a short reprieve, 
I fri'e'y pardon you. The fatal hour 
Steals fast upon me : I must die this morning, 
By five*, my soldiers ; that's the latest hour 
You e'er must see me living. 

1 Ti ih. Jove avert it ! 
In oiir swords lies your fate, and we will guard it, 

Cus. O no, it cannot be ; it is decreed 
Above, anil by no strength here to be alter'd. 
Let ]ir(jua mortality but look on Ca-sar, 
Compass'd of late witii armies, in his eyes 
Carrving both life and death, and in his arms 
Fathiimiiig the earth ; tluit \yould be styled a god, 
And i 3, for that presumption, cast beneath 



/ must die (hit morning. 

By live, &c. I It may Ijc jiisi niccssHry, for ih<.' >ake oi" 
tlif ii'iif Kii;;lisli itacler, to iibstive lint Massini;er niakvs nse 
lieif HI llii: Uiiiiian iiianntr of cinnpiilalioii : jfue in the 
fnorninjj, llivrtlure, ansixcia tu uur ckvin o'clock. 



The low condition of a common man, 
Sinking with mine own weight. 

1 Trib. Do not forsake . 
Yourself, v.e'll never leave you. 

2 Trib. We'll draw u[) 

More cohorts of vour guard, if you doubt treason. 

Ctrs. They cannot save me. The oftended gods, 
That now sit judges on me, from their envy 
Of my power and greatness here, conspire against 
me. 

1 Trib. Endeavour to appease them. 

C(£s. 'Twill be fruitless : 
I'm past ho])e of remission. Yet could I 
Decline this dreadful hour of five, these terrors, 
'i'hat drive me to despair, would soon fly from me ; 
And could you but till then assure me* 

1 Trih. Yes, sir ; 
Or we'll fall with you, and make Rome the urn 
In which we'll mix our ashes. 

Cu's. 'lis said nobly : 
I'm something comforted : howe'er, to die 
Is the full period of calamity. \I!.xeimU 



SCKNE II Another Room in the Palace. 

Enter Pautiienius, Do.iiitia, Julia, C.cms, Domi- 
TiLLA, Stephanos, Sejkius, and Enti-llus. 

Parth. You see we are all condemned ; there's no 
evasion ; 
We must do, or suffier. 

Hieph. But it must be sudden ; 
The least delay is mortal. 

Dom. Would I were 
A man, to give it action ! 

Domitil. Could I make my approaches, though 
my stature 
Does promise little, I have a spirit as daring 
As hers that can reach higher. 

Steph. I will take 
That burthen from you, madam. All the art is. 
To draw him from the tribunes that attend him ; 
For, could you bring him but within my sword's 

reach, ^ 

The world should owe her freedom from a tyrant 
'l"o Stephanos. 

Sej. You .--hall not share alone 
The glory of a deed that will endure 
To all posterity. 

Eitt. I will put in 
For a j)art myself. 

Parth. Be resolved, and stand close. 
I have conceived a way, and with the hazard 
Of my life I'll practise it, to fetch him hither. 
But tiien no trifling. 

Steph. We'll dispatch him, fear not: 
A dead dog never bites. 

Parth. Thus then at all. . 

[Exit ; the rest conceal themselves 

Enter Cjsar atid the Tribunes. 

Cces. How slow-paced are these minutes ! in ex- 
tremes, 
IIow miserable is the least delay ! 
Could 1 impt feathers to the wings of time. 
Or with as little ease command the sun 



• And could you but lit! then auurerne ] i. e. till five. 

'J'ill then, wliicli is alisiiliittly nccess^iiy lo the seiist,as wtll 
as tlie iiittre, is oinitieil by Mr. M. Masou. 

♦ Could J im[i featheri, 4ie.] Sec Rcnogado, Act Vac. viii 



196 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



[Aur V 



To scourge liis coursers up Iieaven's esistern hill. 
Making the hour to tremble at past recalling-, 
As I can move this dial's tongue to six ;* 
My veins and arteries, enij)tied with fear, 
Would fill and swell again. How do 1 look] 
Do you yet see Death about me 1 

■ 1 Trib. 'J'hiiik not of him ; 
There is no danger : all these prodigies 
That do affright you, rise from natural causes ; 
And though you do ascribe them to'yourself, 
Had you ne'er been, had happened. 

Cms- 'lis well said. 
Exceeding well, brave soldier. Can it be, 
That I, that feel myself in health and strength. 
Should still believe I am so near my end, 
And have my guards about tne ( perish all 
Predictions ! 1 grow constant they are false, 
And built upon uncertainties. 

1 Trib. Ibis is right ; 
Now Ctpsar's beard like Cffisar. 

C<es. We will to 
The camp, and having there confirm "J the soldier 
With a large donative and increase of pay, 
Some shall J say no more. 

Ue-enter Paiitiienius. 

Parth. All happiness. 
Security, long life, a' tend upon 
The monarch of the world ! 

Cies. Thy looks are cheerful. 

Parth. And niv relation full of joy and wonder. 
Why is the c;ire of your inijicrial boiiv, 
My lord, neglected, the fear'd hour being past. 
In which vour life was threaten'd l 

Cies. Is't past f ve ? 

Parth. Past six, upon my knowledge; and, in 
justice, 
Vour clock-master should die, that hath deferr'd 
Vour peace so long. There is a post new lighted, 
That brings assured intelligence, that your legions 
In Syria have won a glorious day, 
And much enlarged your empire. I have kept him 
Conceal'd, that you might first partake the pleasure 
In m^ate, and the senate from yourself 
Be taught to understand how much they owe 
To you and to vour fortune. 

Cccf. Hence, pale fear, then! 
Lead me, Parthenius. 

1 Tril). Shall we wait you? 
Ct€s. No. 

After losses guards are useful. Know vour distance. 
[Exfiint Cccsar and Parthenius. 

2 Trib. How strangely hopes delude men ! as I 
live. 

The hour is not yet come. 

1 Trib. Howe'er, we are 
To pay our duties and observe the sequel. 

[^Exeunt Tribunes. Domilia and the rest 
come Joricard. 
Dnm. I hear him coming. Be constant. 

Pe-enterC. If s\n and Parthenius. 

C<ts. Where, Parthenius, 
Is this glad messenger? 

Steph. JMake the door fast. Here; 
A messenger of horror. 

Cits. How ! betray 'd ? 



* As I can move 'Ms dial's tongue to six ;] i. e. to tlie 
hour of uoou. 



Dom. No ; taken, tyrant. 

Ctrs. IMy Domitia 
In the consjiiracv ! 

Parth, Behold this book. 

Cas. Nay, then I am lost. Yet, though I am 
unarm 'd 
I'll not fall |)oorly. [Overthrows Stephanos, 

Steph. flelp me. 

Eut. Tlius, and thus ! 

SeJ. Are you so long a falling ? [Tlieij slab him. 

Cas. ''I'is done basely. [Diet, 

Parth. 'J"his for my father's death. 

Dom. 'J'his for my Paris. 

Jul. This for thy incest. 

Domiiil. This for thy abuse 
Of Domitilla [Theii sercralli/ stab him. 

Trihuties. [within.^ Force the doors ! 

Enter Tribunes. 

Mars ! 
What have you done? 

Parth. \\ bat Rome shall give us thanks for. 

Steph. Dispalch'd a monster. 

1 Trib. Vet he was our prince, 
However wicked ; and, in you, this murder 
Which whosoe'er succeeds him will revenge: 
Nor will we, that seived under his command. 
Consent that such a mon.-ter as thyself, 
(For in tliy wickedness Augusta's title 
Hath quite forsook thee,) tliou, that wert the ground 
Of all these mischiefs, shall go hence unpiiiiish'd : 
Lay hands on her, and drag her to her senleiice.— 
We will refer the hearing to the senate, 
Who may at their best leisure censure you. 
Take uji his body : he in death hath paid 
For all bis cruellies. Here's the difference ; 
Good kings are mourn'd for alter life ; but ill. 
And such as govern 'd only by their will, 
And not their reason, unlamented fall ; 
No good man's tear shed at their funeral. 

[Eicitnt ; the Tribunes bearing the boiii/ of C<Esar* 



* In tins trancdy Massinger seems to have aiinnl at sonie- 
tliinv pai'ticiilai'l> (li!;inlit'<l and lully. 1 du luit know that lie 
has qnile sncceeded. The faihiie, lioTfever, iiiisis not so 
much Irom Ihe subject as llie rharrtcters. Tlie |)i'ilr.iit or' 
Doniilian, which i-< loo flisgiisiiug to ex>-ile niinli inlertst, 
might liave been reheved by some of tliose loni Ins ol acoi- 
denlal viilne whicli sometimes sliagykd across liis vices; 
or Ihe vices themselves might have been made I" enhveu 
each oilier by contrast. History wonid have sn|)|)lied both 
these resources. But Massinger lias been cuiiii iil to re- 
present him ill the least varied part of his lile, «hen lust 
anil cruelly had swallowed np all his I'.iciillies, e\liiigiiislie(l 
every remembrance ot virtue, and reduced him to a lo.illi 
some mass of filth niid I'niy. Now and then, indeed, we 
meet with moie movement and interest. Dmioi; the 
tortures ot" Rii-ticiis and Snra (the lienor of which leniinda 
us of the Viryin Martyr) the force of consi. nee is made lo 
appear for a iiioinenl; and while his assassinatiuii is prepar- 
ing, he is fatally secure, llien falls into terror ; is confident 
once more, and is presently dispatched. The chaiacters of 
Ihe women are scarcely better than thai of Doniilian. 
Their love is licentiousness; nor is Domitilla, whose case 
would have aUowed it, sulficienlly distinguished from the 
rest. But the vengeance implored by Lnnia against hia 
wife is well condncled. It is aptly lultilled by herself in 
Ihe progress of her own debaucheries. 

Iinleed Massinger'a chief attention is bestowed on Pari*. 
In his favour the voice of history is raised far ab..ve ihe Iniili ; 
and in a scene of e\traordinary aniinalion he is iiiade lo dc 
fend himself and Ihe stage wiihall Ihe dignity ol patriotism 
and Ihe intrepidity of conscious reciitiide. Here we n.i) 
reasonably suppose tin; writer lo have hail some nearer 
meaning; and the charge of Areliniis, and the refiilalion ol 
it. Act I., Sc. iii., may strengthen the suspicion espressed in 
the account given of The Jiondman. Another of these 



THE ROMAN ACTOR. 



197 



icrsoii il ciicmiislaiices strikes as at the very opening of 
■Ills pl.i>. I'iiiis li,i<i ihewcaltli and the lionouisol Konic at 
nis conmiaiid, but Massinger had too good reason to com- 
plain that ilie •' times were dull," aiidthat tlie piolits of liis 
pnifetsiim hartlly s.ili-tied " llie day's expeiise." 

A \N(inl niiibt be said of tlie " episodes," as they have 
been termed. Mr. M. Mason has pronounced tl)eni tedious, 
iind D.ivies allows tlieni to be incuinbr-'nces. It was tlieir 
duty to enquire whether tlie plot is assisted by thciii. If 
they liad do..e this with care, tliey nuift have found iliat the 
i.iterliide ordered for Fhilargiis' is the otcasion of Ids death, 
and tlierefiie contributes to the assassination of Uoniitian 
through she vengeance of Parthcnius, who slabs liini in the 
name of his murdered father. It also begins the passion of 
Domitia lor Paris, and hastens the catastrophe, through her 
alienation from the emperor. The other interludes promote 
llie last ettecl only ; but all of them are more or less con- 
nected with the main subject, which they tend to enliven 
and relieve. The oidy forgetfnlness 1 ob.serve, is in the last 
act. The princesses are " confined to several islands;" yet 
they appear without further notice, and partake in the assas- 
sination of Domitian. However, this is very unnsu.d with 
jMassinger, who is generally exact in arranging his subject, 
and accouhting lor lliv minutest incidents of it. 

A woril more of the two conspirators, whose names have 
not hitherto appeared among the dramatis persona;. Cox- 
etir had referied the reader to Suetonius for tlie materials 
of this play, and asserted that Massinger had strictly copied 
him. This ^eeuistohave satisfied Mr. M. Mason, vvlio either 



did not look into Suetonius, or, if he ilid, was prudently 
sdent about characters which he could not Iind. But Sejeius 
(.Sigerius) and Kntellus are as much histoiical persons as 
i'arihcnins or any other. They are expressly mentioned in 
this very attair by Dio Cassius, who furnishes oilier particu- 
lars adopted by Massinger, and not to be found in Suetonius. 

The first of them indeed he calls Sigerus; but the true 
name has been recovered from Martial, who couples it with 
that of Parlhenius, lib. iv., 79. It the commentaior be right 
(or rather Groiiiis, to whom he refers,) Sigerius is also 
quoted by Tcrtnllian as a name of boldness: but the edition 
which I use reads, Ulei^hanis atqiw Partheniis audaciores. 
At all events, the passage intorjiis us thai the actors in this 
conspiracy were long remembered in Rome ; where, how- 
ever, was no want of names eiii incut in this bloody way. 
Indeed, insurrection was now taking a wider range; and 
the Cassii, the Ni^ri, and the Mbiiii had begun to eclipse 
the inmderous fame of their humbler pre<lece,-surs. 

If, as I sincerely hope, the reader loves to see the pure 
and peaceful nianneis of Christianity amidst those scenes of 
treachery and blood, he will be gratified wiih the argument 
which led to the above allusion, Unde qui utter duaa lauroi 
obsidsiit Casarem? (It is pleasing to discover the l.iurels of 
Augustus at the door of Pertinax,; Vndi- qui J'axiribus ejui 
e.rprimendis pa/custrifam * exercent f Ltide qui armati 
palatium irrun,punt, omnibus Stephanis utque Partheniit 
audaciores f De It oinanistni Jailor, Id est, lie non Christia 
nis. Apol. ad Genles. 

Dit. Ireland. 



• This allusion is explained by Victor's account of the murder of Commodus : ab immisso validissiino palantrita cotm 
fressix J'aucibus expiravit. .. . 



I 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



The Great Dcke of Flohence.] " The .Great Duke " was licensed by Sir H. Herbert «' for the Queen's 
servants " July ."xli 1627. This, Mr. ]\lalone conjectures, with every appearance of probabihty, to be the 
" ComicIl llisrouv " before u.s. The plot is raised on the slight materials afforded by our old chroniclers 
in the life of Ed-ar, materials which we have since seen worked up by Blason into the beautitul drama ot 

This 'play was not commifte'l to the press till 1636, when it was preceded by two commendatory copies of 
verses bv G. Donne and J. Ford, 'ihouoh hiohly, and, indeed, deserveaiy, popular, it was not reprinted : 
this may be aUributed,in some measure, to the growing discontent of tlie tunes, which perversely turned 
aside from scpnes like these, to dwell with fearful anxiety on those of turbulence and blood. 

Jt «as acted " by her Majesty's servants at the Phoiuix in Diury Luue ;" where, the title adds.it was 
"often presented.' 



TO THE TRULY HONOURED, AND MY NOBLE FAVOURER, 

SIE ROBERT WISEMAN, KNT*. 

OF THORRELLS-HALL, IN ESSEX. 

Sir, 
As I dare not be ungrateful for the many benefits you have heretofore conferred upon me, so I have just 
reason to fear that my attempting this way to make satisfaction (in some measure) for so due a debt., will 
further engage me. However, examples encourage me. The most able in my poor quality have made use 
of Dedications in this nature, to ma'ke the world take notice (as far as in iliem lay) who and what they 
were that gave supportment and protection to their studies, being more willing to publish the doer, than 
receive a benefit in a corner. For "myself, 1 will freely, and with a zealous thankfulness, acknowledge, that 
for many years I had but faintly subsisted, if I had not often tasted of your bounty. But it is above my 
Strength and fiicullies to celebrate to the desert your noble inclination, and that made actual, to raisH up. or, 
to speak more properly, to rebuild the ruins of demolished poesie. But tliat is a work reserved, and will be, 
no doubt, undertaken, and finished, by one that can to the life express it. Accept, I beseech you, the 
tender of my service, and in the list of those you have obliged to you, contemn not the name of 
Your true and faithful honourer, 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



• Sir Robert Wismian was tlie eldest son of Eicliard Wiseman, a mercliani of London, who, liavinj amassed a loilnne, 
returned into E^se^•, in wMeli coniilj' lie li;id acuniied consi'leirtble tslales, and llieie i ied in 1C18, .iiid Wiis siii-cnded by 
Sir Robert — Massini;er's Patron was ilie oldest of fourteen cliil(iren, and a man of amiable character. He died uninanied 
tlie llth May, 1U41, in bis65lii yanr.— GilchrUit. 



Scene I.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



199 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



CoziMO, dnhe of Florence. 
Giovanni, nephew to the duke, 
Sanazariio, the duke's fanoiirite. 
Caiioi.o (JHAno.MOME. Gioviinni's tutor. 
CoNTARiNO, secretary to the duke. 
Alphjnso, I 

HipponTO, ^counsellors of state. 

HiEROMMO, J 

Calandrino, a merry fellow, servant to Giovanni. 



Bernardo, "J 

Caponi, >serDtfntJ to Charomonte 

Petruciiio, ) 

A Gentleman. 

P^iorinda, duchess of Urbin. 
LiDiA, daughter to Cliaromonte. 
Calaminta, si'rvant to Fiorincla. 
Petuonella, a foolish servant to Lidia. 
Attendants, Sertants, SfC. 



SCENE, partly in Florence, and partly at the residence of Charomonte in the country. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — The Country. A Room in Charomonte's 
House. 

Enter Charomonte and Contarino. 

Char. You brins: your welcome with you. 

Cont. Sir, I find it 
In every circumstance. 

Char. Again most welcome. [me, 

Yet, give me leave to wish fand pray yo'i, excuse 
For I must use tiie freedom I was born with) 
The great duke's pleasure had commanded you 
To my poor house upon some other service ; 
Not this you are desipn'd to : but his will 
Must be obey'd, howe'er it ravish from me 
The happy conversation of one 
As dear to me as the old Romans held [power 

Their household Lars, whom* they believed had 
To bless and guard their families. 

Cont. 'Tis received so 
On my part, signior ; nor can the duke 
But promise to himself as much as may 
Be hoped for from a nephew. And 'twere weakness 
In any man to doubt, tliat Giovannit, 
Train'd up by your experience and care 
In all those arts peculiar and proper 
To future greatness, of necessity 
Must in his actions, being grown a man, 
Make good the pi-incely education 
Which he derived from you. 

Char. I have discharged 
To the utmost of my power, the trust the duke 
Committed to me, and with joy perceive 
The seed of my endeavours was not sown 
Upon the barren sands, but fruitful glebe, 
Which yields a large increase_^: my noble charge, 

• Their household Lars, whom thct/ believed, Sec] Mr. M. 
Mason chouses to le^id, ol his own aiilhurity, 

'J heir household Lars, who, they believed, &c. 

t In any man to doubt that Giovanni,] Giovanni is here 
used as a qua(lii?>ll.ible. This is incorrect, and shows that 
Mas^inger liail , studied tlie l.iniiiiage in books only : no 
Italian would or could pronounce it in tliis manner. He 
makes the jianie mistake in the name ol" llie duchess; 
Fiorlnda is a trisyllable, jet he adopts the division of 
poor Calandrino, ^md constantly prjiioniicts Fiorin-da. 
Shirley adopis a similar pronunciation in the Gentleman of 
Venice, where Giovanni is almost always a quadrisyllable. 



Bv his sharp wit, and pregnant apprehension. 
Instructing those that teach him ; making use, 
Not in n vulgar and pedantic form. 
Of what's read to him, but 'tis straight digested, 
And truly made his own. His grave discourse, 
In one no more indebted unto years, 
Amazes sucli as hear him : horsemanship. 
And skill to use his weapon, are by practice 
Familiar to him : as for knowledge in 
Music, he needs it not, it being born with him ; 
All that he speaks being with such grace deliver'd 
That it makes perfect harmony. 

Cont. You describe 
A wonder to me. 

Char. Sir, he is no less ; 
And, that there may be nothing wanting that 
May render him complete, the sweetness of 
His disposition so wins on all 
Appointed to attend him, that they are 
Rivals, even in the coarsest office, who 
Shall get precedency to do him service; 
Which they esteem a greater happiness. 
Than if they had been fashion'd and built up 
To hold command o'er others. 

Cont. And what place 
Does he now bless with his presence ? 

Char. He is now 
Running at the ring, at wliich he's excellent. 
He does allot for every exercise 
A several hour ; for sloth, the nurse of vices. 
And rust of action, is a stranger to him. 
But I fear I am tedious ; let us pass, 
If you please, to some other object, though I canno 
Deliver him as he deserves. 

Cont. You have given him 
A noble character. 

Char. And how, I pray you 
(For we, that never look beyond our villas, 
]\Iust be inquisitive), are state afiairs 
Ciffried in court 1 

Co/It. There's little alteration: 
Some rise, and others fall, as it stands with 
The pleasure of the duke, their great disposer 

Char. Does Lodovico Sanazarro hold 
Weight, and grace with him? 



200 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[AcT.L 



Cont, Every day new honours 
Are shower'd upon him, and without the envy 
Of such as are good men ; since all confess 
The service done our master in his wars 
'Gainst Pisa and Sienna may with justice 
Claim what's conferr'd upon him. 

Char. 'Tis said nobly ; 
For princes never more make known their wisdom, 
Than when they cherish goodness where thev find it : 
They being; men, and not gods, Contarino, 
They can >;ive wealth and titles, but no virtues ; 
That is without their power. When they advance, 
Not out of judgment, but deceiving- fancy, 
An undes(-rving man, hovve'er set otf 
With all tlie trim of greatness, stale, and power, 
And of a creature even grown terrible 
To him from whom he took his giant form. 
This thing- is still a comet, no true star ; 
And when the bounties feeding- his false fire 
Begin to fail, will of itself go out, 
And what was dreadful, prove ridiculous. 
But in our Sanazarro 'tis nut so. 
He being- [)ure and tried gold ; and any stamp 
Of grace, to make him current to the world. 
The duke is pleased to give him, will add honour 
To the great bestower ; fur he, though allow'd 
Companion to his master, still preserves 
His majesty in full lustre, 

Coiit. He, indeed, 
At no part does take from it, but becomes 
A partner of his cares, and eases him. 
With willing- shoulders, of a burthen which 
He should alone sustain. 

Char. Is he yet married ? . 

Cont. No, si^^nior, still a bachelor ; howe'er 
It is aji])iiient ih-.it the choicest virgin 
For b^-auty, bravery, and wealth, in Florence, 
Would, with her parents' glad consent, be won. 
Were his affection and intent but known, 
To be -at his devotion. 

Char. So I think too. 
But break we oft' — here comes my princely charge. 

Enter Giovanni and Calandrino. 

M-ake your ajijiroaches boldly; you will find 

A courteous entertainment [_Cont. kneels. 

Guw. Pray you, forbear 
My hand, good signior; 'tis a ceremony 
Not due to me. Tis fit we should embrace 
With mutual arms, 

Cont. It is a favour, sir, 
1 grieve lo be denied. 

Giov. Vou shall o'ercome : 
But 'tis your pleasure, not my pride, that grants it. 
Nay, pray you, guardian, and good sir, put on. 
How ill it shows to have that reverend head 
Uncover'd to a boy ! 

Char. Your excellence 
Must give me liberty to observe tlie distance 
And duty that I owe you. 

Giov. Owe nie duty ! 
I do profess (and when I do deny it. 
Good fortune leave me !) you have been to me 
A second father, and nray justly i hidlen"e. 
For training up my youth ni arts and arms. 
As mucii respect and service, as was due 
'J'o him that gave me life. And did you know, sir, 
Or will believe from me, how many sleeps 
Good Cliaronionle hath broken, in his care 
To build me up a man, you must confess 



Chiron, tlie tutor to the great Achilles, 
Compared with him, deserves not to be named. 
And if my gracious uncle, the great duke. 
Still holds me worthy his consideration. 
Or finds in me aught worthy to be loved, 
That little rivulet flow'd from this spring ; 
And so from me report him. 

Cont. Fame already 
Hath fill'd his highness' ears with the true story 
Of what you are, and how much better d by him. 
And 'tis his purpose to reward the travail 
Of this grave sir, with a magnificent hand. 
For, though his tenderness hardly cuuld consent. 
To have you one hour absent from his sight. 
For full three years he did deny himself 
The pleasure he took in you, that yon, here, 
From this great master, might arrive unto 
'J'he theory of those high mysteries 
Which you, by action, must make plain in court. 
'I is, therelbre, his request (and that, from him, 
Your excellence must grant a strict com'inaiid). 
That instantly (it being not five hours riding) 
You should take horse, and visit him. Tliese his 

letters 
Will yitld you further reasons. \^Delivers a packet. 

Cat. 'Vo the court ! — 
Farewell the flower*, then, of the country's garland. 
This is our sun, and when he's set, we must not 
Expect or spring- or summer, but resolve 
For a perpetual winter. 

Char. J'ray you, observe 

[G/'iivuiiii '•cading the letters. 
The fre(|uent changes in his face. 

Cont As if 
His much unwillingness to leave your house 
Contended with his duty. 

Chur. Now he ap|)ears 
Collected and resolved. 

Giov, It is the duke ! 
The duke ujion whose favour all my hopes 
And fortunes do depend. Nor must 1 check 
At his comiiiands for any pnv.ite motives 
That do invite my stay here, though iliey are 
Almost not to be master'd. iMv obedience, 
In my de]>arting suddenly, shall confirm 
I am his liighiiess* creature : vet, 1 ho])e 
A little stay to take a solemn farewell 
Of all those ravishing pleasures 1 have tasted 
In this my sweet retirement, from niv guardian. 
And his iiicompiirable daugther, cannot meet 
An ill construction. 

Cont. 1 will answer that ; 
Use your own will. 

Giov. 1 would speak to you, sir, 
In such a phrase as might express the thinks 
My heart would gladly pay ; but ■ 

Chur. 1 conceive you : 
And something: 1 would say ; but I must do it 
In that dumb rhetoric which you make use of; 
For 1 do wish vou all-^*-l know not how. 
My toughness melts, -dud, s})ite of mv discretion, 
1 must lurn. woman. [^Embraces Ginvannt' 

Cont. V^'hat a sympathy 
There is between them 1 

Cal. Were 1 on ih? rack. 



* Farewell llie fluwer, iffn, of tlie i-oniitry's giirlaml.] 
I i-uppusc tills lo be tlie litli: of one of tiiuse iiiiiuincrable 
livr<s bleua lli.ii llultertd about the town in our iiuilior's 
time. 



Scene II.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



201 



I could not shed a tear. But I am mad, 
And, ten to one, shall hang myself for sorrow, 
Before I shift my sliirt. liut hear you, sir 
(I'll separate you;, when you are gone, what will 
Become of me ? 

' Giov. W hy thou shalt to court with me. 
Cut. To see vou worried ? 
CoHt. Worried, Calaiidrino! 

Cat. Yes, sir : for bring this sweet face to the 
court, , , 1 

There will be such a longing 'mong the madams, ^ 
Who sliallenoross it first, nay, fight and scratch ior t, 
That if thev'benot stopp'd, for eutertaiamtnt 
They'll K-iss his lips oft". Nay, if you'll scape so. 
And not be templed to a further danger, 
These succuba- are so sharp set, that you must 
Give out you are an eunuch. 

Cont. Have a better 
Opinion of court ladies, and take care 
Of your own stake. 

Cal. For -my stake, 'tis past caring. 
I would not have a bird of unclean leathers 
Handsel his lime twig, — and so much for him : 
There's something else that troubles me. 
Coiit. What's that? 

Cal. Why, hov.' to behave myself in court, and 
tigjuly. 
I have been told the very place transforms men. 
And that not one of a thousand, that before 
Lived honestly in the country on plain salads, 
But bring hini thither, mark me that, and feed him 
But a month or two with custards andcourt cake-bread, 
And he turns knave immediately. I'd be honest; 
But I must follow the fashion, or die a beggar. 

Giov. And, if 1 ever reach my hopes, believe it 
We will share fortunes. 

Char. This acknowledgment 
Enter Lidia. 
Binds me vour debtor ever. — Here comes one 
In whose sad looks you easily may read 
What her heart suffers, in that she is forced 
To take her last leave of you. 

Cont. As I live, 
A beauty without parallel ! 
Lid. Must you go, then, 
So suddenly ? 

Giov. There's no evasion, Lidia, 
To gain the least delay, though I would buy it 
At any rate. Greatness, with private men 
Esteem'd a blessing, is to me a curse ; 
And we, whom, for our high births, they conclude 
The only freemen, are the only slaves. 
Happv the golden mean ! liad I been born 
In a poor sordid cottage, not nurs'd up 
With expectation to command a court, 
1 might, like such of your condition, sweetest. 
Have ta'en a safe and middle course, and not, 
As 1 am now, against my choice, compell'd 
Or to lie grovelling! on the earth, or raised 
So high upon the pinnacles of state, 
That I must either keep my height with danger, 
Or fall with certain ruin. 

Lid. Your own goodness 
Will be your faithful guard. 
Gi'oi'. O, Lidia. 
Cont. So passionate* ! [^Aside. 

* So passaionaie.] i. e. so full of porrow— so deeply af- 
fected—a sense in which the word is fiequeutly used by our 
oi.l writers. 



Giov. For, had I been your equal, 
I might liave seen and liked with mine own eyes, 
And not, as now, with others ; 1 might still. 
And witliout observation, or envy, 
As I have done, continued my delights 
NViih you, tl-.at are alone, in my esteem. 
The abstract of society : we might walk 
In solitary groves, or in choice gardens ; 
From the variety of curious flowers 
Contemplate nature's workmanship and wonders 
And then, for change, near to the murmur of 
Some bubbling fountain, I might hear you sing, 
And, from the well-tuned accents of your tongue. 
In my imagination conceive 
With what melodious harmony a quire 
Of angels sing above their Maker's praises. 
And then with chaste discourse, as we return'd. 
Imp * feathers to the broken wings of time : — 
And all this I must part from. 

Cont. You forget 
1 he haste imposed upon us. 

Giov. One word more 
And then I come. And after this, when, with 
Continued innocence of love and service, 
1 had grown ripe for Hymeneal joys. 
Embracing you, but with a lawful flame, 
I might have been your husband. 

Lid. Sir, I was, 
And ever am, your servant ; but it was, 
And 'tis, far from me in a thought to cherish 
Such saucy hopes. If I had been the heir 
Of all the globes and sceptres mankind bows to. 
At my best you had deserved me ; as I am, 
llowe'er unworthy, in my virgin zeal 
I wish you, as a partner of your bed, 
A princess equal to you ; such a one ■ 
That may make it the study of her life, 
With all the obedience of a wife, to please you. 
]\Iay you have happy issue, and I live 
To be their humblest handmaid! 

Giov. I am dumb, 
And can make no repl}'. 

Cont. Your excellence 
W"ill be benighted. 

Giov. This kiss, bathed in tears. 
May learn you what 1 should say. 

Lid. Give me leave 
To wait on you to your horse. 

Char. And me to bring you 
To the one half of your journey. 

Giov. Your love puts 
Your age to too much trouble. 

Char. I grow young, 
When most 1 serve you. 

Cont. Sir, the duke shall thank you, 



[Eieunt. 



SCENE II. 
Florence. ' A Room in Ihe Palace. 
Enter Alphonso, Hippolito, and Hieronimo. 
Alph. His highness cannot take it ill. 
Hi]). However, 
We with our duties shall express our care 
For the safety of his dukedom. 
Hin: And our loves 



• Imp feathers to the broken icing' of time] See Tb« 
Rcnegado, Act V., Sc. viii. 



t03 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[Act I. 



Enter Cozimo. 
To liis person. — Here lie comes : jiresent it boldly. 
[They hieel, ALphonzo tenders a paper. 

Coz. What needs this form? We are not grown 
so ])roud 
As lo disdiiin familiar conference 
With such as are to counsel and direct us. 
This i-inil of adoration shew'd not we.l 
In tl e old Roman emperors, wlio, forgetting 
Tha' they were flesh and blood, would be styled 

gods: 
In i.s to sufifer it, were worse. Pray you, rise. 

[ Reads. 
Still the old suit ! With too much curiousness 
You h;ive too often search'd this wound which 

yields 
Security and rest, not trouble, to me. 
For here yoii grieve, that my firm resolution 
Continues me a widower ; and that 
Mv want of issue to succeed me in 
Mv government, when I am dead, may breed 
Disi ruction in the state, and make I he name 
A.nd family of the Medici, now admired, 
Contem[)tible. 

Hip. Anil with strong reasons, sir. 

.llph. For, were you old, and past hope to beget 
The model of yourself, we should be silent. 

Hier. LSut, being in your height and pride of 
vears. 
As you are now, great sir, and having, too, 
In your poisession the daughter of 
Tlie deceased duke of Urbin, and his heir, 
Whose guardian you are made; were you but 

pleased 
To think her worthy of you, besides children, 
The dukedom she brings with her for a dower 
Will yield a large increase of strengtli and power 
To those fair territories which already 
Acknowledge vou their absolute lord. 

Ci'Z. \ ou press us 
With solid arguments, we grant ; and, though 
We stand not bound to yield account to any 
Why we do this or that, (the I'u.l consent 
Of our subjects being included in our will,) 
We, out of our free bounties, will deliver 
The motives that divert* us. ^ ou well know- 
That, three years since, to our much grief, we lost 
Our duchess; such a duchess, that the world, 
In her whole course of lifef, yields not a lady 
'I'hat can with imitation deserve 
To be her second ; in her grave we buried 
All thoughts of woman : let this satisfy 
Fo- any second marriage. Now, whereas 
You name the heir of Urbin, as a prmcess 
Of great revenues, 'tis confess'd she is so : 
But for some causes, private to ourself, [not ; 

We have disposed her otherwise. Yet despair 
For you, ere long, with joy shall understand. 
That in our princely care we have provided 
One worthy to succeed us. 

E)i(er SANAZAifRO. 
Hip. We submit, 



• The motives that (iiviMt us.] i. c. turn us aside from 

foItowiii<; your advice. 

t that the world, 

Jn licr whole cmirse of lilt, yields not, ilic.\ This is awk- 
waiill> «!xpri-sse(l, a cinuiusLiiict; iiMisl miiisnal willi Mas- 
dinner , bul sei-ms to mean, in lier various excellencies and 
»liuici>. U is stiangely ioiiiti:(l iu Coxeler and Mr. M. Mason. 



And hold the counsels of great Cozimo 
OraculouH. 

Coz. My Sanazarro ! — Nay, 
Forbear all ceremony. You look sprightly, friend, 
And p'omise in your clear aspect some novel 
That may delight us. 

Sunaz. O sir, 1 would not be 
The harbinger of aught that might distaste you ; 
And therefore know (for 'twere a sin to torture 
Your highness' e-xjiectation) your vice-admiral, 
By mv directions, hath surprised the gnljles 
Ai)pointed to transport the Asian tiibute 
Of the great Turk ; a richer prize was never 
IJrought into Florence. 

Coz. Still my nightingale*, 
That with sweet accents dost assure me, that 
My spring of Imppiness comes fast upon me ! 
Embrace me boldly I [)ronouiice thai wretch 
An enemy to brave and thriving action, 
'I'hat dares believe but in a thought, we are 
Too piodigal in our favours to this man. 
Whose merits, though with liim we should divide 
Our dukedom, still continue us his debtor. 

Hip. 'i is far from me. 

Alph. We all applaud it. 

Coz. Nay, blush not, Sanazarro, we are proud 
Of what we build up in thee ; nor can our 
Election be dis|iaraged, since we have not 
Received into our bosom and our grace 
A glorious lazv dronet, grown fat with feeding 
On others toil, but an industrious bee. 
That crops the sweet flowers of our enemies, 
And every happv evening returns 
Loaden with wax atid honey to our hive. 

Saiiaz. My best endeavours never caa discharge 
The service I should pay. 

Coz. Thou art too modest ; 
But we will study how to give, and when, * 

Enter Giovanni and Contarino. 

Before it be demanded. Giovanni ! 

My nephew ! let me eye thee better, boy. 
In thee, raethinks my sister lives again ; 
For lier love I will be a father to thee, 
For thou art my adopted son. 

Giov. Your servant. 
And humble subject. 

Coz. Thy hard travel, nephew, 
Requires soft rest, and therefore we forbear 
For the present, an account how thou hast spent 
Thy absent hours. See, signiors, see, our care. 
Without a second bed, provides you of 
A hopeful prince. Carry him to his lodgings. 
And, for his further honour, Sanazarro, 
Witli the re^t, do you attend him, 

Giov. All true pleasures 
Circle your highness ! 

* Co7,. Mtill my nightingale, 
That with sweet accents, i^c. This seems to be from JoaroD : 
" I gr.int the linnet. Ink, and biijllincli .'iing, 
l?iit be5t the dear good angel of the spring. 
The nightint/nle." 
Our old poets give luis pleasing office to the nightingale with 
great beuity and pr.ipriety ; thus Sydney : 
" Tlie niyhtinijate, so sooai as Aprill biingeth 
Uulo her ^e^ted sense a perfect waking. 
While late bare earth proud of new clothing springcth. 
Sings out her woes," &c. 
The Greek poet.-, .md llieir echoes, the Romans, usually gave 
il to the swallow, and in lliis too there was propriety. 

t A gUiiions lazy drnnv,] i. e. gloriosus— vain, empty 
vaunting. See The Uimatural Combat. 



Scene II.] 



THE GREAT DUKK OF FLORENCE. 



SOS 



Sanaz. As the rising sun, 
We do receive you. 

Giov. May tliis never set, 
But shine upon you ever ! 

\_Eieunt Giovanni, Sanazarro, Hieronimo, 
Alphomo, and Hippolito, 

Coz. Contarino ! 

Cont, INIy gracious lord. 

Coz. What entertainment found you 
From Carolo de Charon.onte ? 

Cont. Free, 
And bountiful. He s ever like himself, 
Noble and hospitable. 

Cos. But did my nejthew 
Depart thence willingly 1 

Co/it. He obey'd your summons 
As did become him. Yet it was apparent, 
But tliat he durst not cross your will, lie would 
Have sojourn 'd longer there, he ever finding 
Variety of sweetest entertainment. 
But there was something else ; nor can I blame 
His youth, though with some trouble he took leave 
Of such a sweet companion, 

Coz. Who was it? 

Cont. The daughter, sir, of signior Carolo, 
Fair Lidia, a virgin, at all parts 

But in her birth and fortunes, equal to him. , 

The rarest beauties Italy can make boast of 
Are but mere shadows to her, she the substance 
Of all perfection. And what increases 
1'he wonder, sir, her body's matchless form 
Is better'd by the pureness of her soul. 
Such sweet discourse, such ravishing behaviour. 
Such charming language, sucli enchanting manners. 
With a simplicity that shames all courtship*. 
Flow hourly from her, that I do believe 
Had Circe or Calypso her sweet graces. 
Wandering Ulysses never had remember'd 
Penelope, or Ithaca. 

Coz. He not rapt so. 

Cont. Your excellence would be so, had you seen 
her. 

Coz. Take up, take upf. — But did your observa- 
Note any passage of aft'c-ction [tion 

Between her and my nephew ? 

Cout. How it should 
Be otherwise between them, is beyond 
My best imagination. Cupid's arrows 
Were useless there; for, of necessity, 
Their years and dispositions do accord so, 
'J'hey must wound one another. 

Co:. Umph ! Thou art 
My secretary, Contarino, and more skill'd 

• irnh (I simplicity that shames all coiiitship,] i. e. all 
court breeding. Uavenanl lias piotitcd of llu'se beauliriil 
lines, and given his interesting Bvrtlia many trails of Lidia : 
" Site ne'er saw courts yet courts could have undone 
With untaught looks, and an unpractised heart; 
Her nets the ino>t prepared could never fhun, 
For nature spied thim in the scorn of art. 
" She never had in busie cities bin. • 

Ne'er warin'il with hope, nor e'er allay'd with fears ; 
Not seeing piinislunent, could guess no tin, 
And sill nut seeing, ne'er had use of tears. 
" But here her father's precepts gave her skill, 

Which with incessant biisinct-s lill'd the hours; 
In spring she gatlier'd blossoms l\.r the still, 
In autumn berries, ami in suniiner Howers." 

t Coz. 7'afie up, take up. ] i. e. stop, check yourself: 

This sense of tlie word, which is not uncoinnidii, does not 
occur among the numerous examples collected by Johnson. 



In politic designs of state, than in 

Thy judgment of a beauty; give me leave » 

In this to doubt it. — Here. Go to my cabinet. 

You shall fiiul there letters newly received. 

Touching the state of Urbin. 

Pray you, with care peruse them; leave the search 

Of this lo us. 

Cont. I do obey in all things. \_ExiU 

Coz. Lidia! a diamond so long conceal'd. 

And never worn in court ! of such sweet feature! 

And he on whom I fix my dukedom's hopes 

Made captive to it ! Umph I 'tis somewhat strange. 

Our eyes are every where, and we will make 

A strict enquiry. Sanazarro ! 

Re-enter Sanazarro. 

Sanaz. Sir. 

Coz. Is my nephew at his rest? 

Sanaz. I saw him in bed, sir. 

Cos. 'Tis well ; and does the princess Fiorinda, 
Nay, do not blush, she is rich Urbin's heir. 
Continue constant in her favours to you? 

Sanaz. Dread sir, she may dispense them as sfa* 
pleases ; 
But ] look up to her as on a princess 
I dare not be ambitious of, and hope 
Her prodigal graces shall not render me 
Offender to your highness*. 

Coz. Not a scruple. 
He whom I favour, as I do my friend. 
May take all lawful graces that become him: 
But touching this liereafter. I have now 
(And tliough perhaps it may appear a trifle) 
Serioiis employment for thee, 

Sanaz. I stand ready 
For any act you please. 

Coz. I know it, friend. 
Have you ne'er heard of Lidia, the daughter 
Of Carolo Charomonte? 

Sanaz. Him I know, sir, 
For a noble gentleman, and my worthy friend; 
But never heard of her. 

Coz. She is deliver'd. 
And feelingly to us by Contarino, 
For a masterpiece in nature. I u-ould have you 
Ride suddenly thither, to behold this wonder. 
But not as sent by us ; that's our first caution : 
The second is, and carefully observe it. 
That though you are a bachelor, and endow'd with 
All those perfections that may take a virgin. 
On forfeit of our favour do not tempt her : 
It may be her fair graces do concern us. 
Pretend what business you think fit to gain 
Access unto her father's house, and there 
Make full discovery of her, and return me 
A true relation : — 1 have some ends in it. 
With which we will acquaint you. 

Sanaz. This is, sir, 
An easy task. 

Coz. Yet one that must exact ' 
Your secrecy and diligence. Let not 
Your stay be long. 

Sa7iaz. It shall not, sir. 

Coz. Farewell, 
And be, as you would keep our favour, careful. 

[F.ieuvt. 



* OB'endcr to yotir highness.] Air. M. JMason reads ^ 
fendiny ; tlie word that 1 have inserted is nearer the (Jd 
copy, which exhibits, Ulieiided lo your hiyhuess. 



S04 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[Act II. 



ACT IT. 



SCENE I. — The same. A Room in Fiorinda's 

House. 

Enter Fiorinda and Calaminta. 

Fior. How does this dressing- show ? 

Catam. 'Tis of itself 
Curious and tare ; but, borrowing ornament 
As it does from your grace, that deigns to wear it, 
Incomparable. 

Fior. Thou flatter'st me. 

Calam. I cannot, 
YovT excellence is above it. 

Fior. Were we less perfect, 
Yet, being as we are, an absolute princess, 
We of necessity must be chaste, wise, fair, 
By our prerogative !— yet all these fail 
To move wliere 1 would have tkem. How received 
Count Sanazarro ti)e rich scarf I sent him 
For his last visit V 

Calam. With much reverence, 
I dare not say attection. He express'd 
More ceremony in his humble thanks, 
Than feeling of the favour; and appear'd 
Wilfully ignorant, in my opinion. 
Of what it did invite him to. 

Fim: No matter ; [heard 

He's blind with too much light*. Have you not 
Of any private mistress he's engaged to? 

Calam. Not any ; and this does amaze me, madam, 
That he, a soldier, one tliat drinks rich wines, 
Feeds high, and promises as much as Venus 
Could wish to (ind from Rlars, should in his manners 
Be so averse-to women. 

Fior. iroth, I know not; 
He's man enough, and if he has a haunt, 
He preys far ot^', like a subtile fox. 

Calam. And iliat way 
I do suspect him : for I learnt last night. 
When the great duke went to rest, attended by 
One private follower, he took horsH ; but whither 
He's rid, or to what end, 1 cannot guess at, 
But I will find it out. 

Fior. Do, faithful servant. 

Filter Calandhino. 
We would not be abused. Who have we here ] 

Calam. How the fool stares ! 

/'(<)?•. And looks as if he were 
Conning his neck-verse. 

Cul. If 1 now prove ]>ei'fect 
In my A 15 C of courlship, Calandrino 
Is made for ever. I am sent — let me see. 
On a How <V\ie, as they call't. 

Calam. VV hat vv-ouldst thou say? [ings ; well. 

Cal. Let me see my notes. These are her lodg- 

Calam. Art th6u an ass ? 

Cal. Peace ! thou art a court wagtail, 

\_Looking on his instructions. 
To interrupt me. 

Fior. He has given it you. 

Cal. And then say to the illustrious Fi-o-rin-da— 
I Iiave it. Which is she? 



• He's blind ivith toomuch U</ht.] Improved by Milton, 
dark willi excess of light." 



Calam. Why this ; fop-doodle. [me out, 

Cal. Leave chattering, bullfinch ; you would put 
But 'twill not do. — Then, njteryoa have made 
Ynur three obeisances to her, kneel, and kiss 
The skirt of her gown — I'm glad it is no worse. 

Calam. And why so, sir? 

Cal. Because I was afraid 
That, after the Italian garb, I should 
Have kiss'd her backward. 

Calam. This is sport unlook'd for. 

Cal. Are you the princess 1 

Fior. Yes, sir. 

Cal. Then stand fair, 
For I am choleric, and do not nip 
A hopeful blossom. Out again : — Three low 
Obeisances 

Fior. I am ready. 

Cal. I come on, then. 

Calam. Witii much formality. 

Cal. Umph ! one, two, three. 

[Mfltcs antic curtsies. 
Thus far I am right. Now for the last. — O rare I 
She is perfumed all over ! Sure great women, 
Instead of little dogs, are privileged 
To carry musk-cats. 

Fior. Now tlie ceremony- 
Is pass'd, what is the substance ? 

Cul. I'll peruse 
My instructions, and then tell you. Her skirt kiss'd. 
Inform her highness that your lord 

Calam. Who's that ? 

Cal. Prince Giovanni, vi-ho intreats your grace. 
That he with your good favour may have leave [it. 
To present his service to you. I think I have nick'd 
For a courtier of the first form. 

Fior. To my wonder. 

Enter Giovanni and a Gentleman. 
Return unto the prince — but he prevents 
My answer. Calaminta, take him oft": 
And, for the neat delivery of his message. 
Give him ten ducats: such rare parts as yours 
Are to be cherish'd. 

Cal. We will share : I know 
It is the custom of the court, when ten 
Are promised, five is fair. Fie ! fie ! the princess 
Shall never know it, so you dispatch me quickly, 
And bid mfe not come to-morrow. 

Calam. A'ery good, sir. 

[^Exeunt Calandrino and Calaminta, 

Giov. Pray you, friend, 
Inform the duke I am putting into act 
What he commanded. 

Gent. I am proud to be employ'd, sir. [E.r/t. 

Giov. Madam, that, witliLMt warrant, I presume 
To trench upon your privacies, may argue 
Rudeness of mfinners ; but the free access 
Your princely courtesy vouchsafes to all 
That come to pay their services, gives me hope 
To find a gracious pardon. 

Fior. If you please, not 
To make that an oft'ence in your construction, 
Wliich 1 receive as a large favour from yoa 
There needs not this apology. 

Giov. You continue. 



Scene II.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



SOS 



As you were ever, the greatest mistress of 
Fair entprtainmeiit. 

Fior. Vou are, sir, the master; 
And in the country have learnt to outdo 
All that in court is practised. But why should we 
Talk at such distance ? You are welcome, sir. 
We have been n>ore familiar, and since 
You will impose the province (you should govern) 
Of boldness on me, give me leave to -say 
You are too punctual. Sit, sir, and discourse 
As we were used. 

Giov. Your excellence knows so well 
How to command, that I can never err 
When I obey you. 

Fior. Nay, no more of this. 
You shall o'erconie ; no more, I pray you, sir.— 
And wiiat delights, pray you be liberal x 

In your relation, hath the country life 
Afforded you ? 

Giov. All pleasures, gracious madam, [tues. 

But the happiness to converse with your sweet vir- 
I had a grave instructor, and my hours 
Design'd to serious studies yielded me 
Pleasure with profit, in the knowledge of 
What before I was ignorant in ; the signior 
Carolo de Chnromonte bemg skilful 
To guide me through the labyrinth of wild passions, 
That labour'd to imprison my free soul' 
A slave to vicious sloth. 

Fior. You speak him well. 

Giov. But short of his deserts. Then for the time 
Of recreation, 1 was allow'd 
(Against the form i'ollovv'd by jealous parents 
In Italy) full libertv to partake 
His daughter's sweet society. She's a virgin 
Happy in all endowments which a poet 
Could fancy in his mistress ; being herself 
A school of goodness, where chaste maids may learn. 
Without the aids of foreign principles. 
By the example of her life and pureness, 
To be, as she is, excellent. I but give you 
A brief epitome of her virtues, which, 
Dilated on at large, and to tiieir merit, 
Would make an ample story. 

Fior. Your wliole age, 
So spent witli such a father, and a daughter, 
Could not be tetlious to you. 

Giov. True, great princess : 
And now, since you have pleased to grant the hearing 
Of my time's exjience in the country, give me leave 
To entreat the favour to be made acquainted 
What service, or what objects in the court. 
Have, in your excellency's acceptance, proved 
Most gracious to you. 

Fior. I'll meet your demand. 
And make a plain discovery. The duke's care 
For my estate and person holds the first 
And choicest place: then, the respect the courtiers 
Pay gladly to me, not to be conteran'd. 
But that which raised in me the most delight 
(For I am a friend to valour), was to Lear 
The noble actions truly reported 
Of the brave count Sanazarro. I profess. 
When it hath been, and fervently, deliver'd, 
How boldly.^n the horror of a fight, 
Cover'd with fire and smoke, and, as if nature 
Had lent liim wings, like lightning he hath fallen 
Upon the Turkish gallies, I have lieard it 
With a kind of pleasure which hath whisper'd to me. 
This worthy must be cherish'd. 



Giov. 'Twas a bounty 
You never can repent. 

Fior. I glory in it ; 
And wlien he did return (but still with conquest^ 
His armour off, not young Antinous 
Appear'd more courtly: all the graces that 
Render a man's society dear to ladies, 
Like pages waiting on him; and it does 
Work strangelv on me. 

Giov. To divert your thoughts. 
Though they are fix'd upon a noble subject, 
1 am a suitor to vou. 

Fior. You will ask, 
I do presume, svhat I may grant, and then 
it must not be denied. 

Giov. It is a favour 
For whicli 1 hope your excellence will thank ma 

Fior. Nay, without circumstance. 

Giov. 1 hat you would please 
To take occasion to move the duke, 
That vou, with his allowance may command 
This matcliiess virgin, Lidia (of whom 
I cannot si)t-ak too much), to wait upon you. 
She's such a one, ujton the forfeit of 
Your o^ood opinion of me, that will not 
Be a blemish to your train. 

Fior. M'isrank! he loves her : 
Bur I will fit him with a suit [Anide.l. — I pause not 
As if it bred or doubt or scruple in nie 
To do what vou desiie, for I'll effect it. 
And make use of a fair and fit occasion ; 
Vet, in return, [ ask a boon of you, 
And hope to fiii'l you in your grant to me, 
As I have been to you. 

Giov. (Command me, madam. 

Fior. ' 1 is near allitd to yours. That you would be 
A suitor to the duke, not to expose 
After so iiiatiy trials of his faith, 
riie -lolile Sanazarro to all dangers. 
As if he were a wall to stand the fury 
Of a perpetual battery : but now 
'I'o grant him, alter his long labours, rest 
And lil)eriy to live in court ; his arms 
And his victorious sword and shield hung up 
For monuments. 

Giov. Umph ! I'll embrace, fair princess, 

Enter Cozimo. 

The soonest opportunity. The duke ! 

Coz. Nay, blush not ; we smile on your jirivacy. 
And come not to disturb you. You are equals, 
And, without prejudice to either's honours, 
May make a mutual change of love and courtship. 
Till you are made one, and with holy rites. 
And we give suflrage to it. 

Giov. You are gracious. 

Coz. To ourself in this : but now break oflF: loo 
mui h 
Taken at once of the most curious viands, 
Dulls the ^harp edge of appetite. We are now 
For other sports, in which our pleasure is 
'j'hat you shall keep us company. 

Fii-'. We atteud you. [Exeunt. 



SCENE IL— The CounUy. A Hall in Chauomokte's 
House. 
Enter Bernardo, Capon:, and Petruchio. 
Bern. Is my lord stirring ? 



206 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[An II, 



Cap. No ; he's fast. 

Pet. Let us take, then, 
Our morning draught. Such as eat store of beef. 
Mutton, and capons, may preserve their liealths 
With that thin composition call'd small beer, 
As, 'tis said, they do in England. But Italians, 
That tliink when they have supp'd upon an olive, 
A root, or bunch of raisins, 'tis a feast, 
Must kill those crudities rising from cold herbs, 
With hot and lusty wines. 

Cap. A happiness 
Those tramontanes* ne'er tasted. 

Bern. Have they not 
Store of wine there'? 

Cap. Yes, and drink more in two hours 
Than the Dutchmen or the Dane in four and twenty. 

Pet. But what is't ? French trash, made of rotten 
grapes, 
And drpgs and lees of Spain, with Welsh metheglin, 
A drench to kill a horse ! But this pure nectar, 
Being proper to our climate, is too fine 
To brook the roughness of the sea : the spirit 
Of this begets in us quick apprehensions. 
And active executions ; whereas their 
Gross feeding makes their understanding like it : 
They can figlit, and that's their all. [They dnnk. 

Enter Sanazarro and Servant. 

Sanaz. Security [open. 

Dwells about this house, I think ; the gate's wide 
And not a servant stirring. See the horses 
Set up, and clothed. 

Serv. I shall, sir. [Exit. 

Smidz, ril make bold 
To press a little further. 

Bern. Who is this? 
Count Sanazarro ? 

Pet. Yes, I know him. Quickly 
Remove tiie flagon. 

Sanaz. A good day to you, friends. 
Nay, do not conceal your physic ; I approve it. 
And, if you please, will be a patient with you. 

Pet. My noble lord. ^Drinks. 

Sanai. A health to yours. [Drin/cs] Well done ! 
1 see you love yourselves, and I commend you ; 
'Tis the best wisdom. 

Pet. May it please your honour 
To walk a turn in the gallery, I'll acquaint 
My lord wiih your being here. [Exit, 

Sanaz. Tell him I come 
For a visit only. 'Tis a handsome pile this. [Exit. 

Cap. Why here is a brave fellow, and a right one ; 
Nor wealth nor greatness makes him proud. 

Bern. There are 

• Those tramontanes ne'er tasted.] i. e. those strangers, 
thoie barbarians : so the Itiiliaiis called, and (.(ill call, all 
who live beyond the Alps, ultra monies. In a subsequent 
speech, tluij^jfiitlior does not lorget to satirize the acknow- 
ledKc<l piuij?iisUy of his countrymen to drinking : " Vour 
Dane, your German, and yoor swag-bellied Hollander, are 
nothtni; to your Englishman." 

If Caponi, as well as lago, be not, however, too severe 
upon us, It must he confessed that onr ancestors were apt 
scholars, and soon bettered the instruction" which they re- 
ceived. Sir Richard Baker (as Mr. Gilchri.«t. observes), 
treating ot the wars in the Low. Countries about the end of 
I, s'l't^^j;!"' c«;"t>>ry, s^'ys. " Here it must not be omitted. , 
that the English (who, of all the dwellers in the northern 
parts of the world, were hitherto the least drinkers, ami 
deservedly praised for (heir sobriety) in these Dutch wars 
earned lo be diunkards, and brous;hl the vice so far (o orer- 
fpread I he kingdom, that laws wei«? fajii to be enacted for 
cpressiiig i(." Chron. fol. p. 382. 



Too few of them ; for most of our new courtiers 
(Whose fathers were familiar with the prices 
Of oil and corn, with when and where to vent them. 
And left their heirs rich, from their knowledge that 

way). 
Like gourds shot up in a night, disdain to speak 
But to cloth ot tissue. 

Enter Ciiaromonte in a nightgoivn, Petruchio 
following. 

Char. Stand you prating, knaves, 
When such a guest is under my roof! See all 
The rooms perfumed. This is the man that carries 
'J'he sway and swing of the court; and I had rather 

Preserve him mine with honest offices, than 

But I'll make no comparisons. Bid my daughter 
Trim herself up to the height ; I know this courtier 
Must have a smack at her ; and, perhaps, by bis 

place, 
Expects to wriggle further : if he does, 
I shall deceive his hopes; for I'll not taint 
My honour for the dukedom. Which way went hel 

Cap. To the round gallery. 

Char. I will entertain him 
As fits his worth and quality, but no further. 

[Exeunt^ 



SCENE III. — A Gallery in the same. 
Enter Sanazarro. 

Sanaz. I cannot apprehend, yet I have argued 
All ways I can imagine, for what reasons 
The gl-eat duke does employ me hither ; and, 
What does increase the miracle, I must render 
A strict and true account, at my return. 
Of Lidia, this lord's daughter, and describe 
In what she's excellent, and where defective. 
'Tis a hard task : he that will undergo 
To make a judgment of a woman's beauty. 
And see through all her plasterings and paintings, 
Had need of Lynceus' eyes, and with more ease 
May look, like him, through nine mud walls, than 

make 
A true discovery of her. But the intents 
And secrets of my prince's heart must be 
Served, and not search'd into. 

Enter Ciiaromonte. 

Char. Most noble sir. 
Excuse my age, subject to ease and sloth. 
That with no greater speed I have presented 
My service with your welcome. 

Sanaz, 'Tis more fit 
That I should ask your pardon, for disturbing 
Your rest at this unseasonable hour. 
But my occasions carrying me so near 
Your hospitable house, my stay being short too. 
Your goodness, and the name of friend, which you 
Are. pleased to grace me with, gave me assurance 
A visit would not offend. 

Char. Offend, my lord ! 
I feel myself much younger for the favour. 
How is it with our gracious master? 

Sanaz. He, sir, 
Holds still iiis wonted greatness, and confesses 
Himself your debtor, for your love and care 
To the prince Giovanni ; and had sent 
Particular thanks by me, had his grace known, 
The quick dispatch of what I was design'd to 
Would have licensed me to see you. 



Scene III.J 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



Vff 



Char. 1 am rich 
In his acknowle(iu;inent. 

S'liiiiz. Sii', I have heard 
Your liaj>]iiiiess in a daugliter. 

Chiir. Sits tlie wind tliere ! [Aside. 

Su^ia-^. Fame gives her out for a rare masterpiece. 

C7i«?-. * I'is a [ilain vilhige girl, sir, but obedient ; 
niat's her best beauty, sir. 

Sannz. Let my desire 
To see lier. find a fair construction from you ; 
1 bring no loose thought with me. 

Chiir. Vou are that way, 
Mv lord, i'ree from suspicmn. Her own manners, 
Without an imposition from me, 
1 hope, will prompt her to it. 

Enter LiDiA and Petronella. 

As slie is, 
Slie comes to make a tender of that service 
Whicli she stands bound to pay. 

Sawn. With your fair leave, 
I make bold to salute you. 

Lid. Sir, you bave^t. 

PelroH. i am her gentlewoman, will he not kiss 
me too ? 
This is coarse, i'faith. [Aside. 

Char How he falls off! 

Lid. My lord, though silence best becomes a maid, 
And to be curious to know but what 
Concerns myself, and with becoming distance, 
May argue me of boldness, I must borrow 
So much of modesty, as to enquire 
Prince Giovanni's health 

Siinaz. He cannot want 
Whiit you are pleased to wish him. 

Lid. Would 'twere so ! 
And then there is no blessing that can make 
A ho])eful and a noble prince c -mplete, 
15ut should fall on him. O ! he was our north star. 
The ligiit and ])leasure of our eyes. 

Saiiitz Where am 1 1 
I feel myself another thing! Can charms 
]5e writ on such pure rubies* ? her lips melt 
As soon as tuuch'd ! Not those smooth gales that 

glide 
O'er ha[>py Araby, or rich Sabseaf, 
Creating in tlieir passage gums and spices, 
Can serve for a weak simile to express 
I he sweetness of her breath. Such a brave stature 
Homer bestowed on Pallas, every limb 
Pro]>ortion'd to it! 

Chur. This is strange ; — my lord ! 

Saiiuz. I crave your pardon, and yours, matchless 
maid. 
For such I must report you. 

Pelroii. There's no notice 
Taken all this while of me. [Aside. 

Sana?,. And I must add. 
If your discourse and reason parallel 



• Can charmt 

Be writ on such pure rubies '.] This, I believe, alludes to 
g very old cpiiiion, lliat soiiie sorts of gem* (t'roiii an inlie- 
reiu sanctity), could not be profaned, or applied to ilie pur- 
poses ol magic, 'llie notion took iis rise probably from some 
superstiliona ileas respecting the precious stones employed 
in llie breastplate of the high-priest of the Jews. 

t (/'er ha ppij Araby,] So the quarto. Coxeierand Mr. M. 
Mason have blnmlered it into prose; they read, Oer happy 
Arabia ! In 'I'he New H ay to Fay Old Debts, ilii> beautiful 
■iniU occurs again. 



'J'he rareness of your more than human form, 
Vou are a wonder. 

Char. Pray you my lord make trial : 
Slie can speak, I can assure you ; and that ray pre- 

sence 
]\Iay not take from her freedom, I will le:ive you : 
For know, my lord, my confidence dares trust her 

Where, and with whom, she pleases. If he b« 

I ak'-n the right way witli lier, I cannot fancy 
A better match ; and for false play, I know 
'I'he tricks, and can discern them.'— Petronella. 

Petron. Yes, mv good lord. 

Chur. I have employment for you. 

[Eit>u)it Charomonte and Petronella. 

Lid. What's your will, sir? f of 

Sanaz. Madam, you are so large a theme to treat 
And every grace about you offers to me 
Such copiousness of language that I stand 
Doubtful which first to touch at. If 1 err. 
As in my choice 1 may, let me entreat you. 
Before 1 do offend, to sign my pardon ; 
Let this, the emblem of your innocence, 
Give me assurance. 

Lid. My hand join'd to yours, 
Without this su])erstition, contiims it, 
Nor need 1 fear you will tlwell long upon mf. 
The barrenness of the subject yielding noihinj 
That rhetoric with all her tropes and figures 
Can amplify. Yet, since you are resolved 
To prove yourself a courtier in my praise. 
As I'm a woman (and you men affirm 
Oarsex loves to be Hatter'd^ I'll endure it. i 

Enter CnAno.MONTE above. 
Now, wlien you please, begin. 

Sanaz. [tiirriingj'rnmher ] Such Lreda'spaps were — 
(Down pillows styled by Jove), and' their puio 

whiteness 
Shames tiie swan's down, or snow. No heatoflu>t 
Swells up her azure veins ; and yet 1 feel 
That this chaste ice but touch'd fans fire in mo. 

Lid. You iiet-d not, noble sir, be thus trans|>orte>d. 
Or trouble your invention to express 
Yourthouglit of nie: the plainest phrase and lang;uago 
That you can use will be too high a strain 
For such an humble theme. 

Stinaz. If the great duke 
]Made this his end to try my constant temper, 
Though I am van<piish'd, 'tis his fault, not raiiu- 
For I am flesh and blood, and have afFeciions 
Like other men. Who can behold tJie temples 
Or holy altars, but the objects work 
Devotion in him'! And I may as well 
Walk over burning iron with bare feet, 
And be unscorch'd, as look upon this beauty 
Without desire, and that desire pursued too, 
Till it be quencli'd with the enjoying those 
Delights, which to achieve, danger is nothing^. 
And loyally but a word. 

Lid. 1 ne'er was proud ; 
Nor can find I am guilty of a thought 
Deserving this neglect and strangeness from you t 
Nor am 1 amorous. * 



• Nor am I amorous.] This would be a itrangeiiecU^ 
tion for Lidia to make, when Saiiazarro had said notiili! tt 
heron the subject of love; these wtirds, therefore, inn H be 
considereil as ilie beuinning of a sentence that is l(.f< un- 
finished, and shoiihl be printed thus : 

Nor am / amoroua M. Ma-jom. 

" However ttrange the declaration" may be, a it bctutlli 



t08 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[Act n 



Saniiz. Suppose his greatness 
Loves her liimself, why makes he choice of me 
To be his agent? It is tyranny 
To call one pinch'U witli hunger to a feast, 
And at that uistant cruelly deny him 
To taste of wliat he sees. Allegiance 
Tempted too far is like the trial of 
A good sword on an anvil ; as tliat often 
Flies in pieces without service to the owner, 
So trust enforced too far proves treachery, 
And is too late repented. 

I. id. Pray you, sir, 
Or license me to leave you, or deliver 
The reasons' \vhich invite you to command 
My tedious waiting on you. 

Char. Asl live, 
I Itnow not what to think on't. Is't his pride, 
Or his simplicity ? 

Sanaz. \\' hither have my thoughts 
Carried me from myself? In this my dulness, 

J ve lost an ojjportunity 

l^Tnrns to her; she falls off. 

Lid. ' Tis true, 
I was not bred in court, nor live a star there ; 
Nor sliine in rich embroidewes and pearl, 
As they, that are the mistresses of great fortunes. 
Are every day adorn'd with 

Saiutz, Will you vouchsafe 
Your ear, sweet lady ? 

Lid. Yet I may be bold, 
For my integrity and fame, to rank 
With sucli as are more glorious. Though I never 
Did injury, yet 1 am sensible 
When I'm contpmn'd, and scorn'd. 

Sanaz. Will you please to hear me? 

Lid. the difl'erence of natures ! Giovanni, 
A prince in expectation, whtn he lived here 
Stole courtesy trom heaven*, and would not to 



rnade: nor is lliere the smallest necessity for supposing the 
sentence to be incomplete. Lidi.i simply means, I am not 
apt to be infl.imed at tiist sight ; ami the remark is perfectly 
natural, in her uncertainty respeciiiig the molivcs of Sana- 
Esrro's conduct. 

• Giovanni, ' 

A prince in expectation when he lived here, 
Stole couittsy from iieaven, <!ic ] This is from Sbaks- 
peare, and (lie plain meaning of ihe phrase is, that the 
attabilily and .sweetness of Giov.mni were of a heavenly kind, 
i. e. more perfect than was nju.illy found among men ; re- 
sembling that divine condescension whiih excludes none from 
its /cgard, and iherefore immedi.itel) derived or stolen from 
heaven, from whence all good proceeds. In thi> there is no 
impropriety : common usage warrants the application of the 
term to a variety of actions which imply notliing of turpi- 
tude, but rather Ihe contrary: allectioiis are stolen— in a 
word, to steal, here, and in many other pl.ices, means lillle 
else than to win by imporlunily, by imperceptible progiet- 
sion, by gentle violence, &c. 

I mention this, because it appears to me that the com- 
ineniators on onr great poet have altogether mistaken him: 
" And then 1 stole all courtesy from heaven. 
And dress'd myself in such humilily, 
That 1 did pluck allc!;iance from men's hearts." 

Hen. I v., I'art I, Act 1 1 1., sc. ii. 
"This," says Warbnrton, who is always t>.j refined for his 
subject, " is an allusion to the story of Prometheus, who 
stole hre from thence; and as with this he made a man, so 
with that Bolingbroke made a king." If there be any allu- 
>iun to the story (which I will not deny), it is of the most 
remote and obscure kind ; the application of it, however, is 
surely loo ab«nid for serious notice. Sleevens supposes the 
nieHiiiiig to be,—" I was .so att.ible, that I engrossed the 
devotion and reverence of all men to myself, and thus de- 
frauded heaven of its wor.thippers." Is heaven worshipped 
wi h " attability (" or have polileness and elegance of 
nianiicrs such irresistible cljarms, that, when found below, 
lliey must of necessity " engross all devotion," and exclude 



■J'he meanest servant in Tny father's liouse 
Have ke])t such distance. 

Sauaz. Pray you do not think me 
Unworiliy of your ear ; it was your beatity 
That turn'd me statue. 1 can speak, fair laay. 

Lid. And I can hear. The harsJiness of your 
courtship 
Cannot corrupt mv courtesy. 

Sanaz. Will you hear me. 
If 1 speak of love ? 

Lid. Provided you be modest j 
£ were uncivil, else. 

Chiir- They are come to parley 
I ii:u?t observe this nearer. [He retires 

Sanaz, You are a rare one. 
And such (but that my haste commands me hence) 
I could converse with ever. Will you grace me 
With leave to visit you again ? 

Lid. So j'ou. 
At your return to court, do me the favour 
'i'o make a tender of my humble service 
To the prince Giovanni. 

Sanaz. Ever touching 
Upon that string ! And will ^ou give me hope 
Of future happiness? 

Lid. 'I'hat, as 1 shall find you : 
The fort that's yielded at Ae first assault 
Is hardly worth the taking. 

Tie-enter Charomonte below. 

Char. O, they are at it. 

Sarntz. She is a magazine of all perfection, 
And 'tis death to part from her, yet I must — 
A ])arting kiss, fair maid. 

Lid. 'I'hat custom grants you. [ship, 

Char. A homely breakfast does attend your lord- 
Such as the jilace affords. 

Sanaz: No ; 1 have feasted 
Already here ; my thanlis, and so I leave you: 
I will see you again. I ill this unhappy hour 
I was never lost, and what to do, or say, 
I have not yet determined. [Exit. 

Char. Gone so abruptly ! 
'Tis very strange. 

Liil. Under your favour, sir, 
His coining hither was to little purpose. 
For any thing I heard trom him. 

Char Take heed, Lidia ! 
I do advise you with a father's love. 
And tenderness of your honour; as I would not 
Have you coarse and harsh in giving entertainment. 
So by no means to be credulous : for great men. 
Till they have gain'd their ends, are giants in 
Their promises, but, those obtain'd, weak pigmies 
In their performance. And it is a maxim 
Allow'd among them, so they may deceive, 
They m y swear any thing; for the queen of love, 
As tliey hold constantly, does never punish. 
But smile, at lovers' perjuries*. — Yet be wise loo. 



the Deity from onr thoughts ■?— This is not the language, nor 
are the.e the ideas of Shakspeare : and it would well be- 
come Ihe critics to pause before they seriously disgrace him 
with such impious absurdities. 

♦ for the queen of lin}e. 

As they hold constantly, does never punish. 

But smile, at lovers' perjuries.— J 

Bidet hoc, inquam, f enus ipsa. 
It would be as well if the queen of love had been a lillle 
more iaslidious on this subject. Her faciliiy, 1 fear, has done 
much mi«chief, as lovers ot all ages have availeo ihei.iselvet 



ficENE I.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



209 



And when you are sued to in a noble way, 
Be neitlier nice nor scrupulous. 

Lid. All you speak, sir, 
I hear as onicles; nor will digress 



I From your directions. 

Char. So shall vou keep 
Your fame untainted. 
Lid. As 1 would my life, sir. 



\_Exeunt 



ACT III. 



Scene I, — Florence. An ante Room, in the Palace. 
Enter Sanazarro and Servant. 

S(77i(is. Leave the horses with my grooms; but 
be you careful, 
With your best diligence and speed, to find out 
The prince, and humbly, in my name, entreat 
I may exchange some private conference with him, 
Before the great duke know of my arrival. 

Serv. 1 haste, my lord. 

Sanaz. Here I'll attend his coming: 
And see vou keep yourself, as much as may be, 
Conceal'd from all men else. 

Sirv. To serve 3'our lordship, 
I wish I were invisible. [Exit. 

Sanaz. I am driven 
Into a desperate strait, and cannot steer 
A middle course ; and of the two extremes 
Which I must make election of, I know not 
Which is more full of horror. Never servant 
Stood more engaged to a magnificent master. 
Than I to Cozimo : and all those honours 
And gluries bv his grace conferr'd upon me. 
Or t)v my prosperous services deserved. 
If MOW I should deceive his trust, and make 
A slii|)wreck of my loyalty, are ruiu'd. 
And, on the other side, if I discover 
Lidia's divine perfections, all my hopes 
In her are sunk, never to be buoy'd up: 
For 'tis impossible, but, as soon as seen, 
She must with adoration be sued to. 
A heniiit at his beads but looking on her. 
Or the cold cynic, whom Corinthian Lais [stone, 
(Not moved with her lust's bUindisliments') call'd a 
At this object would take tire. Nor is the duke 
Such an Hippolytus, but that this Pluvdra 
But seen, uiust force him to forsake the groves 
And Dian's huntmanship, proud to serve under 
Venus" soft ensigns. No, iliere is no way 
For me to h;)pe fruition of my ends, 
But to coiiceid her beauties; — and how that 
May be effected, is as hard a task 
As with a veil to cover the sun's beams, 
Or comfortable light. Three years the prince 
Lived in her company, and Contariiio, 
The secretary, hath possess'd* the duke 

of it: but ?Iie had it from lier fallier, whose Lixlty of prin- 
ciple is svi'U known : 

perjuria ridet aniantum 

Jupiter. 

hath posfcs>'<l the dufic 

What a rare piece she is :] i. v. acniiiiiited, or informed. 
In tliis sense llie word perpetually occiii» in onr old w liters. 
Thu.s in '/'he City Nightcap : " Yon, sirnh, we are poaitett'd. 
Were their pintlor." A^nin, in The City Match: 
" Slic Is passiss'd 

W liat streams of gold you f.ow in." 



What a rare piece she is : — but he's my creature, 
And may with ease be frighted to deny 
Wliat he hath said : and, if mv long experience, 
With some strong reasons I have tliought upon. 
Cannot o'er-reach a youth, my practice yields me 
But little profit. 

Enter Giovanni with the Servant. . 
Giov. You are well return'd, sir. 
Sanaz. Leave us — [Exit Servatit.'\ When tlat 
your grace shall know the motives 
That forced me to invite vou to this trouble. 
You will excuse my manners. 

Giov. Sir, there needs not 
This circumstance between us. You are ever 
Rly noble friend. 

Snnaz. You shall have further cause 
To assure you of my faith and zeal to serve you 
And, when I have committed to your trust 
(Presuminu; still on your retentive silence) 
A secret of no less importance than 
]\Iy lionour, nay, mv head, it will confirm. 
What value you hold with me. 
Giou. Pray vou, believe, sir. 
What you deliver to me shall be lock'd up 
In a strong cabinet, of which you yourself 
Shall keep '.he key : for here I pawn my honour, 
Which is the best spcitrity 1 cau give, yet, » 
It shall not be discover'd. 

Sanaz. This assurance 
Is more thin I with modesty could demand 
From such a paymaster: but I must be sudden: 
And therefore, to the purpose. Can your excellence. 
In your imagination, conceive 
On what design, or whither, the duke's will 
Commanded me hence last night? 

Giov. No, I assure you ; 
And it had been a rudeness to enquire 
Of that 1 was not call'd to. 

Sanaz. Grant me hearing. 
And I will make you truly understand 
It only did concern you. 

Giov. IMe, my lord ! [tunes ; 

Sanaz. You, in your present state, and future foi- 
For both lie at the stake. 

Giiw. You much amaze me. 
Pray you, resolve this riddle, 
Sanaz. You know the duke. 
If he die issueless, as yet he is. 
Determines you his heir. 

(iiov. It hath pleased his highness 
Oft to profess so much. 

Sanaz. But .>-ay, he should 
Be won to prove a second wife, on whom 
He may beget a son, how, in a moment, 
V.'ill all those "'..lous expectations, which 



£10 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[Act III 



R«?nfler you reverenced and remarka))le, 
13e in a moment blasted, lioweVr you are 
His mucli-loved si-ter's son ! 

Giav. I must bear it 
With putiente, and in me it is a duty 
Thrtt I was born with ; and 'twere much unfit 
For the receiver of a benefit 
To offer, for his own ends, to prescribe 
Laws to tlie giver's pleasure. 

Siinaz. Sweetlv answer'd, 
And like vour noble self. This vour rare temper 
So wins u[)on me, that. I would not live 
(If that by honest arts I can prevent it) 
To see vour hopes made frustrate. And but think 
How voii shall be transform'd from what you are, 
Should this (as heaven avert it!) ever happen. 
It must disturb your peace : for whereas now, 
Being, as vou are, received for the heir apparent, 
You are no sooner seen, but wonder'd at ; 
The signiors making it a business to 
Enf|uire how you have slept ; and, as you walk 
Tlie streets of Florence, the "jlad multitude 
In throngs press but to see vou; and, with joy, 
1 he father, pointing with his finger, tells 
His son. This is the prince, the hopeful prince, 
That must hereafter rule, and you obey him. — 
Great ladies beg your picture, and make love 
To that, despairing to enjoy the substance. — 
And, but the last night, when 'twas only rumour'd 
That you were come to court, as if you had 
Bv sea past hither from another world, 
What general shouts and acclamations foUow'd! 
The bells rang loud, the bonfiies blazed, and such 
As loved not wine, carousing to your health, 
Were drunk, and hlush'd not at it. And is this 
A hapjiiness to part with? 

Giov- I allow these 
As flourishes of fortune, with which princes 
Are olten sooth'd ; but never yet esteem'd them 
For real blessings. 

Siinazfi Yet all these were paid 
To what you mav be, not to wliat you are ; 
For if ilie great duke but shew to his.servants 
A son of his own, you shall, like one obscure. 
Pass unregarded. 

Gior. I confess, command 
Is not to be coiitemn'd, and if my fate 
Appoint me to it, as I may, I'll b(^ar it 
V\ ith willing shoulders. But, my lord, as yet. 
You've told me of a danger coming towards me, 
But have not named it. 

Saiiaz. That is soon deliver'd. 
Great Cozimo, vour uncle, as I more 
Than guess, for 'tis no frivolous circumstance 
Tliat does persuade my judgment to believe it. 
Purposes to be married. 

Giov. Married, sir! [me. 

With whom, and on what terms? pray you, instruct 

Sanuz. With the fair Lidia. 

Giov. Lidia! 

Sanaz. 'J he daughter 
Of signior Cliaromonte. 

Giov. Pardon me 
Though I a])pear incredulous : for, on 
My knowledge, he ne'er saw her. 

Sanaz. That is granted : 
But Conlaiino hath so sung her praises. 
And given her out for such a masterpiece. 
That he's transported with it, sir : — and love 
Steals sometimes through the ear into the heart. 



As well as bv the eye. The duke no sooner 
Heard her described, but I was sent in post 
To see her, and return my judgment of her 

Giiw. And wiiat's your censure? 

Sanaz. 'lis a [)retty creature. 

Giv. She's very fair. 

Sanaz. Yes, yes, I have seen worse faces. 

Giov. Her limbs are neatly form'd. 

Sanaz. She hath a waist 
Indeed sized to love's wish. 

Giov. A delicate hand too. 

Sr.naz. Then for a leg and foot — 

Giov. And there I leave you, 
For I presumed no further. 

Saniiz. As she is, sir, 
I know she wants no gracious part that may 
Allure the duke ; and, if he only see her, 
She is his own ; he will not be denied, 
And then vou are lost : yet, if you'll second rae, 
(As you have reason, for it most concerns you), 
I can prevent all yet. 

Gii'v. I would you could, 
A noble way. 

Sanaz. 1 will cry down lier beauties ; 
Especially the beauties of her mind. 
As much as Contarino hatli advanced them ; 
And this, I hope, will breed forgetfulness, 
And kill affettion in him : but you must jnin 
WitI) me in my repoit, if you be (|uestion'd. 

Giov. I never told a lie vet ; and I hold it 
In some degree blasphemous* to disj)raise 
What's worthy admiration : yet, for once, 
1 will dis])raise a little, and not vary 
From your relation. 

Sanuz. Be constant in it. 

Enter Alpiionso. 
Alpli. My lord, the duke hath seen your man, and 
wonders 

Enter Cozimo, Hippolito, Contarsno, and 
Attendants. 

You come not to liim. See. if l)is desire [hither 
To have conference witli you hath n^t Lroujjht him 
In his own j)erson. 

Coz. 'J'hey are comely coursers, 
And promise swiftness. 

Cont. They are, of my knowledge, 
Of the best race in Naples. 

Coz. ^'ou are, nephew, 
As I hear, an excellent horseman, and we like it : 
'Tis a fair grace in a prince. Fray you, make trial 
Of their strength and speed ; and, if you think them 

fit 
For your employment, with a liberal hand 
1 Reward the gentleman that did present them 
From the viceroy of Naples. 

Gioi'. I will use 
My best endeavour, sir. 

Coz. Wait on my nephew, 

JEieunf Giovanni, Alphonso, Hippolito, itnd Attendants. 

Nay, stay you, Contarino ; be within call ; 

It may be we shall use you. [Exit Contarino. 

• • a>id I hold it 



In some degree bl.isplieinuns.j So ilic word was iistully 
accented in Massiiiger's time, .iiid with etiict regard to iU 
Greek dei Ivnlion. 'I'lius Sidney : 

" Blasphemous words llie speaker vain do prove." 
And Spenser : 

" And tliereiu shut up Ids blasphimous tongue." 



SCXNE I.] 



THK GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



31] 



You have rode hard, sir, 
And we thank you for it : every minute seems 
Irksome, and tedious to us, till you liave 
Made your discovery. Say, friend, have you seen 
This phctnix of our age ( 

Stmis. I have seen a maid, sir; 
But, if that I have judgment, no such wonder* 
As she was deliver'd to you. 

Cos. This is strange. ' [look'd on 

Sanaz. But certain truth. It may be, she was 
With admiration in tiie country, sir; 
But, if compared vvitli many in your court. 
She would appear but ordinary. 

Coz. Contarino 
Reports her otherwise. 

Saitaz Such as ne'er saw swans. 
May think crows beautiful. 

Coz. How is her behaviour? 

Saniiz. 'lis like the place she lives in. 

Coz. Mow her wit, 
Discourse, and entertainment? 

Sanaz. Very coarse ; 
I would not willingly say poor, and rude : 
But, had she all tiie beauties of fair women, 
The dulness of her soul would fright me from her. 

Coz Vou are curious, sir. 1 know not what to 
think on't. 
Contarino I 

Be enter Contarino, 

Cniit. Sir. 

Coz. Where was thy judgment, man. 
To extol a virgin Sanazarro tells ,#tie 
Is nearer to deformity ? 

Sanaz. 1 saw her. 
And curiou>ly perused her; and I wonder 
That sbe, that did appear to me, that know 
What beautv is, not worthy the observing, 
Should S') transport you. 

Coiit. Troth, mv lord, I thought then 

Co:. Thought ! Didst tlu>u not affirm it ? 

Clint. I confess, sir, 
I did believe so then; but, now I hear 
My lord's opinion to the contrary, 
I am of another faith ; for 'lis not fit 
That I should con'radict him. 1 am dim, sir, 
But he's sliarp-sighted. 

Sanaz. This is to my wish. 

Coz. We know not what to think of this ; yet 
would not 

Tie-enter Giovanni, Hippolito, and Alpiionso. 
Determine rashly of it. — How do you like 
My nephew's horsemanship^ 

Hip. Ill my judgment, sir, 
It is exact and rare. 

Alph. And, to my fancy, 
He did present great Alexander mounted 
On liis Bucephalus. 

Coz. Vou are right courtiers. 
And know it is your duty to cry up 
All actions of a prince. 



* Sanaz. / have seen a maid, sir ; 

But if tliat I have judgment, no sucA wonder, &c.] It is 
too niiicli to my that this simple tlioiiuht is borrowed ; tnd 
y;t an expresi-ionof SliMlispcare's iiiis;lit not impiobably have 
hung on Massingcr's mind: 

" Mir. No wonder, sir; 

" 15iit, certainly a tiytid " Tempest. 

Tlie commentators liave amassed a prodigion.? numlior of ex- 
tracts lo illustrate llie e.spie«sion- this from Massinger, 
however, which appears to me mote to the purpose than any 
of them, they have, as usnal, overlooked. 



Sanaz. Do not betray 
Yourself, you're safe ; I have done my part. 

\_Aside to Giovanni 

Giov. I thank you ; 
Nor will I fail. 

Coz. What's your opinion, nephew. 
Of the horses? 

Giov. Tw'o of them are, in my judgment. 
The best lever back'd; I mean the roan, sir, 
And the brown bay : hut for the chesnut-colour'd, 
Though he be full of metal, hot, and fiery, 
He treads weak in his pasterns. 

Coz. So : come nearer ; 
This exercise hath put you into a sweat ; 
Take this and dry it* : and now I coihmand you 
To tell me truly what's your censure of 
Charomonte's daughter, Lidia. 

Gioc. I am, sir, 
A novice in my judgment of a lady ; 
But such as 'tis your grace shall have it freely. 
I would not speak ill of her, and am sorry. 
If I keep myself a friend to truth, I cannot 
Report her as I would, so much I owe 
Her reverend father : but I'll give you, sir, 
As near as I can, her character in little. 
She's of a goodly stature, and her limbs 
Not disproportion'd ; for her face, it is 
Far from deformity ; yet they flatter her, 
That style it excellent: ber manners are 
Simple and innocent; but her discourse 
And wit deserve my pity, more than praise : 
At the best, my lord, she is a handsome picture, 
And, that said, all is spoken. 

Cos. I believe you ; 
I ne'er yet found you false. 

Giov. Nor ever shall, sir. 
For>;ive me, matchless Lidia ! too much love, 
And jealous fear to lose thee, do compel me. 
Against my will, my reason, and my knowledge. 
To be a poor detractor of that beauty 
Which fluent Ovid, if he lived again. 
Would want words to express, [^Aside, 

Coz. Pray you make clioice of 
The richest of our furniture for these horses, 

[To Sanazarro, 
And take my nephew with you ; we in thi.s 
Will follow his directions. 

Giov. Could I find now 
The princess Fiorinda, and persuade her 
To be silent in the suit that I moved to her, 
All were secure. 

Sunns. In that, my lord, I'll aid you. 

Co5. We will be private ; leave us. 

[Eieimt all but Cozimo 
All my studies 
And serious meditations aim no further 
Than this young man's good. He was my sister's son 
And she was such a sister, when she lived, 
I could not prize too much ; nor can I better 
Make known how dear I hold her meiiiory. 
Than in my cherishing the only issue 
Which she hath left behind her. Who's that? 
Enter Fiorinda. 

Fior. Sir. 

• This exercise hath put yoti into a sweat ; 
Take this and dry it:] This is from Shakspcare; if he 
had been stitieied to remain in qiiiel po«»e.-sioii of it, the 
reader would have little to regret on the fcm t of delicacy : 

" lie's fat, and srant of brealh : 

Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brow." 
p 2 



tl3 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLQJIENCE. 



[Act IIL 



Coz. My fair cliaige ! you are welcome to us. 
Fior. 1 liave found it, sir. 

Cos. All thinjis go well in Urbia. [me 

Finr. Your gracious care to me, an orphan, frees 
From all suspicion that my jealous fears • 
Can drive into my fancy. 

Coz. I'lie next summer, 
In our own person, we will bring you thither, 
And seat you in your own. 

Fior. \V lien you think fit, sir. 
But, in the mean-time, with your highness' pardon, 
I am a suitor to you. 

Cos. Name it, madaiA, 
With confidence to obtain it. 

Fior. Tliat you would please 
To lay a strict command on Cliaromonte, 
To bring' his d-.iughter Lidia to the court : 
And pray you, think, sir, that 'tis not my purpose 
To employ her as a servant, but to use her 
As a most wisii'd companion. 

Cos. Ha! your reason? [given her 

Fior. The hopeful prince, your nephew, sir, hath 
To me for such an abstract of perfection 
In all that can be wish'd for in a virgin. 
As beauty, music, ravishing discourse. 
Quickness of apprehension, with choice manners 
And learning too, not usual with women, 
That I am mucli ambitious (though 1 shall 
Appear but as a foil to set her off) 
To he by her instructed, and supplied 
In what 1 am defective. 
Cos. Did -my nephew 
Seriously deliver this ? 

Fior. I assure your grace. 
With zeal and vehemency ; and, even when, 
Willi lii.- best words, he strived to set her tbrth, 
(Though the rare subject made him eloquent,) 
He would complain, all he could say came short 
Of her deservings. 

Cos. Pray you have patience. [Walks aside. 

This was strangely carried. — Ha ! are we triHed with^ 
Dare tliey do tliis? Is Cozimo's fury, ih.it 
Of late was terrible, grown coiitemjitible ! 
Well; we will clear our brows, and undermine 
Their set^-et works, though they have digg'd like 

moles. 
And crush them with the temjiest of my wrath 
When 1 ; ppear most calm. He is unfit 
To command others, that knows not to use itf, 
And with all rigour: yet my stern looks shall not 
Discover my intents; for I will strike 

When 1 begin to frown You are the mistress 

Of that you did demand. 

Fior. 1 thank your highness ; 
But speed in the performance of the grant 
Doubles the favour, sir. 
Cos. Y'ou shall possess it 

Sooner than you expect : 

Only be pleased to be ready when my secretary 
Waits on you- to take the fresh air. i\Jy nephew, 
And my bosom friend so to cheat me ! 'tis not fair. 
Be-enter Giovanni and Sanazarho. 
Saiiaz. Where should this princess be? nor in her 
lodgings, 
Nor in the private walks, her own retreat, 
Which she so much frequented ! 



Giov. V>y my life. 
She's with the duke ! and I much more than feaf 
Her forwardness to prefer my suit hath ruin'd 
What with such care we built up. 

Coz. Have you furnish'd 
Those coursers, as we will'd you? 

Sanaz. '1 here's no sign 
Of anger in his looks. 

Giov. They are complete, sir. 
Cos. 'Tiswell: to your rest. Soft sleeps wait on 
you, madam. 
To-mon ow, with the rising of the sun, 
Be ready to ride with us. They with riiore safety 
Had trod on fork-tongued adders, than provoked me. 

[Exit. 
Fior. I come not to be thank'd, sir, for the speedy 
Performance of my promise touching Lidia ; 
It is effected. 

Sanaz. We are undone. 
Fim: The duke 
No sooner heard me with my best of language 
Describe her excellencies, as you taught me. 
But he confirm'd it. You look sad, as if 
You wish'd it were undone. 

Giov. No, gracious madam, 
I am your servant for't. 

Fior. Be you as careful , 

For what I moved to you. Count Sanazarro, 
Now I perceive you honour me, in vouchsafing 
To wear so slight a favour. 

Sanaz. 'Tis a grace 
I am unworthy of. 

Fior. You merit more, 
In prizing so a trifle. Take this diamond ; 
I'll second what I have begun ; tor know. 
Your valour hatli so won ujion me, that 
'Tis not to be resisted : I li;ive said, sir, 
And leave you to interpret it. [Exit, 

Sanaz. 'i his to me 
Is wormwood, 'lis apparent we iire Taken 
In nui own noose. ^^' hat's 'o be done? 
Giov. 1 know not. 
I And 'lis a puni.-l'.nient justly lallen upon me, 
For leaving truth, a constant mistnss, that 
Ever protects her servants, to become 
A slave to lies and falsehood. V\ hat excuse 
I Can we make to the duke, what mercy hojie for, 
I Our packing* being laid open ? 
I Sanaz. ' \ is not tn 
Be question'd but his purjiosed journey is 
To see fair Lidia. 

Giov. And to divert him 
Impossible. 

Sanaz. There's now no looicmg backward. 
Giov. And which way to go on with safely, not 
To be imagined. 

Siiiiaz. Give me leave: I have 
An embryon in my brain, which, I despair not. 
May be brought to form and fashion, provided 
Y'ou will be open-breasted. 
Uwv. I IS no tmie now, 
Our dangers being equal, to conceal 
A thougli; from you. 

Sanaz. What power hold yon o'er Lidia? 
Do you think that, with some haziird of her life. 
She would prevent your ruin ? 



* that knows not to use il,] i. e. his 

eommand, aniliority : the cxyro>si'ii is h.nsli, but is not un- 
roniniun in tlit; writers of Massiut^er's time. 



• Our packing being laid nprn .'] i tr. onr insi^lions coa 
trivaiioe, oiM- iuiqniKiiis cuHiimmii ki driiive ilif diike : »0 
Iht wurU is uavA ')> Shak>iK-.iie, .aid oiliiia. 



Scene I.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



^RTJ 



S13 



Giov. I presume so : 
If, in the underiakinir it, she stray not 
From what becomes lier innocence ; and to that 
Tis far from me to p:ess her: 1 myself 
Will rather suffer. 

Saiwz. 'Tis enough ; this night 
Write to her by vour servant Calandrino, 
As I shall give directions ; my man 

Eiiier CAhATiDm^o, fantastically dressed. 
Shall bear him company. See, sir, to my wish 
He does appear; but much transformed irom what 
He was when he came hither. 

Cat. I confess 
1 am not very wise, and yet I find 
A fool, so he be parcel Knave, in court 
May flourish, and grow rich. 
Giov. Calandrino. 
Cal. Peace ! 
I am in contemplation. 

Giov. Do not vou know me ? 
Cal. I tell thee, no ; on forfeit of my place, 
I must not know myself, much less my father, 
But by petition ; that petition lined too 
With golden birds, that sing to the tune of profit. 
Or I am deaf. 

Giov. But you've your sense of feeling. 

[Offering to strike him. 
Sanaz. Nay, pray you, forbear. 
Cal. I have all that's requisite 
To the making up of a signior : my spruce ruff. 
My hooded cloak, long stocking, and paned hose, 
My case of toothpicks, and my silver fork*. 



To convey an olive neatly to my moutii ; — 

Aii(J, what is all in all, mv pockets rins^ 

A golden peal. O that the peasants in the country, 

Mv quondam fellows, but saw me as 1 am. 

How they would admire and worship mfe ! 

Giov. As they shall ; 
For instantly you must thither. 

Cal. Mtf grand signior. 
Vouchsafe a be>o las manos*, and a cringe 
Of the hist edition. 

Giov. Vou must ride post with letters 
'Ibis night to Lidia. 

Ciil. An it please your grace, 
Shall I use my coac'i, or footcloth mule ? 

Sanaz. You widgeon. 
You are to make all speed ; think not of pomp. 
Giov. Follow for your instructions, sirrah. 
Cal. I have 
One suit to vou my good lord. 
Sanaz. What is't?" 
Cal. That vou would give me 
A subfile coiirt-charm, to defend me from 
The infeciious air of the country. 
Giov. What's the reason? 

Cal. Why, as this court-air taught nae knavish 
wit. 
By which I am grown rich, if that again 
Should turn me fool and honest, vain hopes farewell ' 
For 1 must die a Heggar. 

Sanaz. Go to, sirrah, 
You'll be whipt for this. 

Giov. Leave fooling, and attend us. [ Exeunt f. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — The Country. A Hall in Chauo- 
monte's House. 

Enter Charomonte and LtoiA. 

Char. Daughter, I have observed, since the prince 
left us, 

• Cal. / have all that's requhite 
To the making up of a signior ; my spruce ruff. 
My hooded cloak, long stocking, and paned lnue. 
My case q/" toothpicks, and my filver forlc,] Calandrino U 
very coireci in his enumeration of the articles which in his 
time made up a conipltte iignior; and which are frequently 
introduced with evident tnarlis of disapprobation and ridicule 
by our lild poets. The rutl', cloak, and long stocking, are 
lufliciently laniiliar: hose are breeches: 
" Lorenzo, thou dost boast of base renown ; 

Why, I could whip all these, were their hose down." 

The Spanish Tragedy. 
Paned hose, therefore, are breeches composed of small sciu.ires 
or pannels. Wliile I am on this most grave subjiet, it may 
not be amiss to observe .that, about this linie, the larye 
slashed breeches of a former reign began to give way to 
others of a closer make; an innovation which the old people 
laund very inconvenient, and of which they complained with 
lonie degree of justice, as being ill adapted to the hard oak 
chairs and benches on which they usually sat ! Toothpicks, 
the next accompaniment of state, were recently imported 
trom Italy, as v/ere forks ; the want of which our ancestors 
•upplied as well as they could with their lingers. Thomas 
Coryat (an itinerant buttoon, with just understanding enough 
to make hi.n-elf worth the laughing at) claims the honour of 
introducing the use of forks into this country, which, he 
»ays, he le irned in Italy — " where the natives, and also most 
«trangcrs that are commorant there, doe alwaies at their 
meales usj a little .forke, when they cut their meate, for 
While with their knife, which they hold in one hand, they 

. ir 



(Whose absence I mourn with you),' and the visit 
Count Sanazarro gave us, you have nourished 



cut the meat out of the dish, they fasten. thei /orie,_whicK 
they hoi I in tl eir oilier hand, upon the same (li=li' t-o- 
ryat's Crudities, &c., Kill. 

Jonson, who. n.ore than any of his coneinporanev 
" caunht the mamieis living as tliey ro.-O," la-Ins the iTov 
tituti.in of monopolies in his time, by making \ lercralt 
promise Tail ush and Cilihead to procure llieiii grai.ts foi 
the manulacturing of toothpicks and furlts. \\h.a he says 
of the former is loo long for my purpose ; the later are Wit 
introduced : 

" Meer. Do you hear, sir#? 
Have I deservKl this from you two, for all 
My pains at court to get you each a patent! 
" Gilt. For what! 

" Meer. Upon my project o( the forks, 
" Gilt. Forks! what be they? 
" Meer The laudable u>e of forks 
Brought into custom here, as lliey are in Italy, 
To the sparing of napkins." The Devil's an Ass. 

* Cal. My grand signior. 
Vouchsafe a beso las manos, &c.] This is the phrase in 
which Calandrino 5uppo.»e8 his " quondam fellows" will ad- 
dress him. I know not whether it be through ignorance or 
design — but the modern editors always make their foreign 
scraps even more barbarous than the anrient ones. There 
is no occasion for this. In Massinger's lime, these lags of 
politeness were in every body's mouth, and better undeistood 
than they are at this (lay. 

t I have restricted myself to as few remarks as possible on 
the beauties of the autlior, but I cannot forbear observing, 
rn the present occasion, that the act we have just linislied, 
for language, sentiment, surprising yet natural turns, and 
general felicity of conduct, is not to be paralleled in any 
drama with which I am acquainted. 



S14 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[Act. IV 



Sad and retired thoughts, and parted with 
Tliat freedom and alacrity of spirit 
Wiih which vou used to cheer me. 

Lid. I'dr the count, sir, 
-■^11 tli( uglit of him does with his person die; 
But I < oufess ingenuously, I cannot 
So soon toi-get the choice and chaste delights, 
Tlie courteous conversation of the prince, 
And wiihout stain, I hope, afforded me, 
W lien he niiide this house a court. ; 

C'/i</r. It is in us, 
I o keep it so without him. Want we know not, 
And all we can complain of, heaven be prais'd for't, 
ts too much plenty ; and we will make use of 

Enter CaponiJ- Bernardo, Petruchio, and other 
Servants. 

All lawful pleasures. How now, fellows ; wheu 
Shall we have this lusty dance? 

Cap. In the afternoon, sir. 
Tis a device, I wis, of my own making, 
And such a one, as shall make your signiorsliip know 
1 have not heen your butler for nothing, but 
Have crotchets in my head. We'll trip it lightly, 
And make my sad young mistress merry again, 
Or I'll forswear tlie cellar. 

Bern. If we had 
Our fellow Calandrino here, to dance 
His part, we were perfect. 

Pet. O ! he was a raie fellow ; 
But 1 fear the court hath spoil'd him. 

Cap. Wlien I was young, 
1 could have cut a caper upon a pinnacle ; 
But now I am old and wise. — keep your figure fair 
And follow but the sample I shall'set you, 
The duke himself will send for us, and laugh at us ; 
And that were credit 

Enter Calandrino. 

Lid, Who have we here ? 

Cal. I find 
What was brawn in the country, in the court grows 

tender. 
The botson these jolting jades ! lam bruised to jelly. 
A coach for my money ! and that the courtezans 

kcow well ; 
Their riding so, makes them last three years longer 
Than such as are hacknied 

Char. Calandrino ! 'tis he. 

C<iL Now to my postures. — Let my hand have 
the honour * 

To convey a kiss from my lips to the cover of 
Your foot, dear signior. 

Char. Fie ! you stoop too low, sir. 

Cal. The hem of your vestment, lady : your glove 
is for princes ; 
Nay, I have conn'd my distances. 

Lid. 'Tis mo5t courtly. 

Cap. Fellow Calandrino ! 

Cat. Signior de Capon'i, 
Grand hotelier of the mansion. 

Bern. How is't, man ? [Claps him on the shoulder. 

Cal Be not so rustic in your salutations, 
Signior Bernardo, master of the accounts. 
Signior Petruchio, may you long continue 
Your function in the chamber ! 

Cap. When shall we learn 
8uch gambols in our villa ? 

Lid. Sure he's mad. 



Char. 'Tis not unlike, for most of such muih- 
rooms are so. 
What news at court ? 

Cal. I^asto ! they are mysteries. 
And not to be reveal'd. With your favour, signior^ 
1 am, in private, to confer awhile 
With this signiora: but I'll pawn my honour. 
That neither my terse language, nor my habit, 
Howe'er it may convince, nor my new shrugs, 
Shall render her enamour'd. 

Char. Take your pleasure ; 
A little of these apish tricks may pass, 
Too much is tedious. [EiiL 

Cal. The prince, in this paper, 
Presents his service. Nay, it is not courtly 
To see the seal broke open ; so I leave you. 
Signiors of the villa, I'll descend to be 
Familiar with you. 

Cup. Have you forgot to dance? 
Cal. No, I am better'd. 
Pet. Will you join with us? 
Cal. As 1 like the project. 
Let me warm my brains first with the richest grape. 
And then I'm for you. 

Cap. We will want no wine. [Exeunt all but Ltdia. 
Lid. That this comes only from the best of princes 
With a kind of adoration does < oinmand me 
To entertain it ; and the sw eet contents 

[Kissing the letter. 
That are inscribed here by his hand must be 
Much more than musical to me. All the service 
Of my life at no part can deserve this favour. 
O what a virgin longing I feel on me 
To unrip the seal, and rend it ! yet, to break 
What he hath fastened, rashly, may appear 
A saucy rudeness in me. — I must do it 
(Nor can I else learn his commands, or serve them). 
But with such reverence as I would open 
Some holy writ, whose grave instructions beat down 
Rebellious sins, and teach my better part 
How to mount upward. — So [Opens the letter.'], 'tii 

done, and I 
With eagle's eyes will curiously peruse it. [Readi 
Chas'e Lidia, the favours are so great 
On me bi/ van cnnjerr'd, that to entreat 
The least addition (•> thew, in true sense 
Mat) argue me of blush less impudence. 
But, such are my extremes, if you deny 
A further grace, I must unpitied die. 
Haste cuts off circumslunce. As you're admired 
For beauty, the report of i' hath f red 
The duke ma uncle, and, I fear, you'll prove, 
A'o( with a sacred, but unbiuful love. 
If he see you us you are. my hoped-for light 
Is changed into an evtrlasliug night ; 
Hou to prevent it, if your goodness fnd. 
You saie tuo tires, and vie yoii ever bind. 

The honourer of your virtues, Giovanni, 

Were I more deaf than adders, these sweet charma 
Would through mv ears find passage to my soul. 
And soon enchant it. To save such a prince, 
Who would not perish ? virtue in him must suffer, 
And pietv he forgotten. The duke's lust, 
Though it raged more than 1 arquiu's, shall not 

reach me — 
All quaint inventions of chaste virgins aid me ! 
My prayers are heard ; 1 have't. I he duke ne'er saw 

me — 
Or, if that fail, I am again provided- 



Scene II.] 



THE GSIEAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



«1S 



But (or the servants ! —Tliej' will take what form 

I please to put upon iheni. Giovanni, 

Be s:i(e ; tliv servant Lidia assures it. 

Let mountains of afflictions fall on me, 

Iheii weight is easy, so 1 set thee free. [Eait. 



SCENE II. — Another Ri\>m in the same. 

Enter Cozimo, Giovanni, Sanazauro, Charomonte 

and Attendants. 

Sanaz. Are you not tired with travel, sir? 

Coz. No, no: 
I am fresh and lusty. 

Char, r his day shall be ever 
A holiday 1o me, that br ngs my prince 
Under mv humble roof. [Weeps. 

Giov. See, sir, my good tutor 
Sheds tears for joy. 

Coz. Dry them up, Charomonte ; 
And all forbear the room, while we exchange 
Some private words together. 

6'iof. 0, my lord, 
Hovi- gross'lv iiave we overshot ourselves! 

Sanaz. In wliuf, sir ? 

Giov. In forgetting to acquaint 
My ijuardian wi;h our purjtose : all that Lidia 
Can do aviiils us nothing, if the duke 
Finil out the truth from him. 

Sanaz. ' lis now past help. 
And we must stand the hazard :— hope the best, sir. 

[Exeunt Giovanni, Sanazarro, and Attendants, 

Char. ]\Iy loyalty doubted, sir! 

Coz. ' lis more. Thou hast 
Abused our trust, and in a high degree 
Committed treason. 

Char. Treason ! 'tis a word 
l\1y innocence understands not. Were my breast 
JVansparent, and mv thoughts to be discern'd. 
Not one spot shall be found to taint the candour 
Of mv allegiance : and I must be bold 
To tell you, sir, (for he that knows no guilt 
Can know no fear), 'tis tyranny to o'ercharge 
An honest man ; and such, till now, I've lived, 
And such, my lord, I'll die. 

Coz. Sir, do not flatter 
Yourself with hope ; these great and glorious words, 
Whirdi every guilty wretch, as well as you, 
Tr.at's arm'd with impudem e,can with ease deliver. 
And with as full a mouth, can work onus: 
Nor shall gay flourishes of language clear 
What is in fact apparent. 

Cluir. Fact! what fact? 
You, that know only what it is, instruct me. 
For 1 am ignorant. 

Coz. Tliis, then, sir: We gave up. 
On our assurance of your faith and care, 
Our nephew Giovanni, nay, our heir 
In expection, to be train'd up by j'ou 
As did become a prince. 

Char. And I discharged it: 
Is this the treason ? 

Coz. Take us with you, sir*. 
And, in respect we knew his youth was prone 



* Take «» with yott.tir.) i. e. hear us out, nnderstand our 
meaning fully, before yiiu form your coiiclii>i()ii.< : lliis ex- 
pres.-ion is common to all our old writers; and, indeed, will 
be frequcutly found in tlie succeeding pa^es of this work. 



To women, and that, living in our court. 
He might make some unworthy choice, before 
His weaker judgment was conflrm'd, we did 
Remove him from it; constantly presuming. 
You, with your best endeavours, rather would 
Have ijuench'd those heats in him, than light B 

torch. 
As you have done, to bis looseness. 

Char. 1 ! My travail 
Is ill-recjuited, sir ; for, by my soul, 
I was so curious that way, that I granted 
Access to none co\ild tempt him ; nor did ever 
One syllable, or abscene accent, touch 
His ear, that might corrupt him. 

Coz. No ! Why, then. 
With your allowance, did you give free way 
To all familiar privacy between 
My nephew and \our daughter? Or why did vou 
(liad you no other ends in't but our service) 
Read to them, and together, as they had been 
Scholars of one form, grammar, rhetoric, 
Philosophy,* story, and interpret to them 
The close temjitations of lastivious ]>oets ? 
Or wherefore, for we still had spies ui)on you, 
Was she still present, when, by your advice. 
He was taught the use of his weapon, b.irsemanship. 
Wrestling, nay, swimming, but to fan in her 
A hot desire of him? and then, forsooth, 
His exercises ended, cover 'd with 
A fair pretence of n creation for him 
( When Lidia was instructed in those graces 
That add to beauty), be, bi'ought to admire her, 
INIust hear her sing, while to her voice her li.ind 
Made ravishing music ; and, this applauded, danoe 
A light lavolta with lier?t 

(har. Have you ended 
All you can charge me with ? 

Coz. Nor stopt you there. 
But they must unattended walk into 
'I'he silent groves, and hear the amorous birds 
Warbling their wanton notes ; here, a sure >liiide 
Of barren sicamores, which the all-seeins; sun 
Could not pierce through ; near that, an harbour 

hung 
With spreading eglantine: there, a bubbhng spring 
Watering a bank of hyacinths and lilies; 
With all allurements that could move to lust ; 
And could this, Charomonte (should I grant 



* Philosophy, story,] For story, the modern editors un- 
necessarily read hiitory. The l«o word* weic itnciently 
synoiiviiii>us. 

t A li(jhl lavolta with her.] What the dance here alliideft 
lo i-, 1 c.nuiot tell, nor can 1 tind an explaaati.m of the 
word in any dictionary. Coxetkr and M. Mason. 

That's a piiy ! Dictionaries, generally jpenking, are nut 
the places to Uiok for teinis of this kind, whidi should be 
soiiuht in the kindred writings of contemporary HU lior». 
Z,auo?<a (literally, the turn) was a>lance originally ini put-ted, 
with many others, from Italy. It is frequently iiicntiotie'l 
by our old writers, with whom it was a favourite ; and is so 
graphically described by Sir John Davies, in his Orchfstta, 
that all further attempts to explain it must he superfluous: 
" Yet is there one, the most delightful kind, 
A lofty jumpini;, or a leaping round, 

Where, arm in arm, two dancer* are entwin'd, 
Anil whirl themselves in .strict embraceiiients bouu'l" 

Our countrymen, who seini to be lineally descended iri>n» 
Sisyphus, and who, at the enl of every century, u>«ally 
have their work to do over a^ain, after proudly iinjior- 
ting from Germany the long-e\ploded tra>h of their o-Mi 
nurseries, have just l>i<>iiglit back from tlie same roniiUy, 
and with an equ.d degree of exultation, the well known 
lavolta of their j;ran>l-falhers. under the mellitiuous iiaiuo of 
the waltx ' 



ffl6 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCF. 



[Act IV. 



Tliev had been eqtr.ils both in birth and fortune), 

Become your gravity ? nav, 'tis clear as air, 

That vour ambitious hopes to match your daughter 

Into our lamily, gave connivance to it: 

And this, thougli not in act, in the intent 

I call high treason. 

Char. Hear my just defence, sir y 
And, thougl) you are my prince, it will not take 

from 
Vour greatness, to acknowledge with a blush, 
In this mv accusation you liave been 
More sw.iy'd by spleen, and jealous suppositions. 
Than certain grounds of reason. Vou liad a father, 
(Blest be his memory), that made fre(iuent proofs 
Of my loyalty and faith, and, would 1 boast 
The daiio^ers I have broke through in his service, 
I could say more. Nay, yoii yourself, dread sir, 
Whenever I was put unto' the test, 
l^ound me true golJ, and not adulterate metal ; 
And am I doubted now ? 

Cos. This is from the purpose. 

Char. I will come to it, sir: Your grace well 
knew, 
Before the prince's happy presence made 
My poor house rich, the chiefest blessing which 
I gloried in, though now it prove a curse, 
Was an only daughter. Nor did you command me. 
As a security to your future fears, 
To cast her oft" : which had you done, howe'er 
She was the light of my eyes, and comfort of 
My feeble age, so tar 1 prized my duty 
Above affection, she now had been 
A stranger to my care. But she is fair ! 
Is that her fault or mine ? Did ever father 
Hold beauty in his issue for a blemish? 
Her education and her manners tempt too ! 
If these off'end, they are easily removed : 
You may, if you think fit, before my face, 
In recompense of all my watchingi for you, 
With burning corrosives transform her to 
An ugly leper ; and, this done, to taint 
Her sweetness, prostitute her to a brothel*. 
This I will jatlier suffer, sir, and more. 
Than live suspected by you. 

Ccz. ■ Let not passion 
Carry you bej'ondyour reason. 

Char, I am calm, sir; 
Yet you must give me leave to grieve I find 
My actions misinterpreted. Alas ! sir, 
Was Lidia's desire to serve the prince 
Call'd an offence \ or did she practise to 
Seduce his youth, because with her best zeal 
And fervour she endeavoured to attend him ? 
'Tis a hard construction. Though she be 

daughter, 
I may thus far speak her : from her infancy 
She was ever civil, her behaviour nearer 
Simplicity than craft ; and malice dares not 
Affirm, in one loose gesture, or light language, 
She gave a sign she was in thought unchaste. 
Til fetch her to you, sir ; and but look on her 
With equal eyes, you must in justice grant 
That your suspicion wrongs her. 

Coz. It may be ; 
But I must have stronger assurance of it 



• prostitute her to a brothel.] The 

UHtto reads, to a loathsome bmlliel. The epiilitt is alto- 
getber idle, and utterly destroys the metre; I h:ive tlieie- 
tore omitted it without scruple, as an interpulalion. 



my 



Than passionate words : and, not to trifle time. 

As we oime unexpected to your house, 

U e will prevent all mtans that may prepare her 

How to answer that, wi h which we come to charge 

And howsoever it may be received [her. 

As a foul breach to hospitable rites. 

On thy allegiance and boasted faith. 

Nay, forfeit of thy head, we do confine thee 

Close prisoner to thy chamber, till all doubts 

Are clear'd, that do concern us. 

Char. I obey, sir, 
And wish your grace had followed my herse 
To my sepulchre, my lovalty unsuspected. 
Rather lh:in now — but I am silent, sir, 
And let that speak my duty*. [Exit. 

C112. If this man 
Be false, disguised treachery ne'er put on 
A shape so near to truth. Within, there ! 

He-enter Giovanni and Sanazarro, ushering tn 

Pethonella. CALANDniNo and others tetting 

forth a Banquet. 

Sanaz Sir. 

Coz. Bring Lidia forth. 

Giov. She conies, sir, of herself, 
To present her service to you. 

Coz. Ha ! This personage 
Cannot invite affection. 

Sanaz. See you keep state. 

Petron. I warrant you. 

Coz. The manners of her mind 
Must be transcendent, if they can defend 
Her rougher outside. May we with your liking; 
Salute you, lady ? 

Petron. Let me wipe my mouth, sir. 
With my cambric handkerchief, and then have at vou 

Coz. Can this be possible '! 

Sanaz. Yes, sir ; you will find her 
Such as I gave her to you. 

Petron. Wdl your dukeship 
Sit down and eat some sugar-plums? Here's a castl» 
Of marcli-pane too; an.d this, quince-marmalade 
Was of my own making : all summ'd up together. 
Did cost the setting on ; and here is wine too 
As good as e'er was tapp'd. I'll be your taster. 
For I know the fashion [Driitks all off.'} : — now jo\ 

must do me right, sir; 
You shall nor will nor choose. 

Giot'. She's very simple. [Iady\ 

Coz. Simple ! 'tis worse. Do you drink thus often, 

** Petron, Still when I am thirsty, and eat when I 

am liungry : [.>'<*"> 

Such junkets come not every day. Once more to 

With a lieart and a half, i'faith. 

Coz. Pray you, pause a little ; 
If I hold your cardsj, I shall pull down the side : 
I am not good at the game. 

Petron. Then I'll drink for you. [pledge 

Coz. Nay, pray you stay: I'll find you out a 
That shall supply my place ; what think you of 
This complete signior? You are a Juno, 
And in such state must feast this Jupiter : 
What think vou of him? 



• This scene is exquisitely written. It must, however, be 
conft ssed, that Charoinonle's justilication of hiiiistlf is less 
complete than mi<;ht be expected from one >vho had so 
good a cause to delend. 

f Coz. Pray t/mc pause a tittle ; 

If I hold pour cards, &c.J See The Unnatural Combat, 
Act II. Sc. 2. 



SCEVE I.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



S17 



Petron, I desire no better. 

Coz. And you will undertake this service for me ? 
You are good at the sport. 

Cal. VVho, I? a pidler, sir. [drink 

Coz. Nay, you sl)all sit enthroned, and eat and 
As you were a duke. 

Cal. If your g-race will have me, 
I'll eiit and drink like an emperor. 

Cos. Take your place then : 
We are amazed. 

Gioij. This is gross : nor can the imposture 
But be discover'd. 

Saiiaz. Tl)e duke is too sharp-sighted 
To be deluded thus. 

Cal. Nay, pray you eat fair. 
Or divide, and 1 will choose. Cannot you use 
Your fork, as I do' Gape, and I will feed you, 

l^Feedi her. 
Gape wider yet ; this is court-like. 

Petrnn. To choke daws with: • 

I like it not. 

Ciil. But you like this ? 

Petron. Let it tome, boy. [TTiey drink. 

Coz. What a sight is this ! We could be angry 
with you. 
How much you did belie her when you told us 
She was only simple ! this is barbarous rudeness, 
Beyond belief. 

Giov. I would not speak her, sir. 
Worse than she was. 

Sanaz. And I, my lord, chose rather 
To deliver her better parted* than she is. 
Than to take from her. 

Enter C\pom, with his fellow Servants for the dance. 

Cap. Ere I'll lose my dance, 
I'll speak to the purpose. 1 am, sir, no prologue ; 
But in plum terms must tell you, we are provided 
Of a lusty iiornpipe. 

Coz. I'rithee, let us have it, 
For we grow dull. 

Cap. But to make up the medley. 
For it is of several colours, we must borrow 
Your grace's ghost here. 

Cal. Pray you, sir, depose me ; 
It will not do else. I am, sir, the engine 

[^Rises, and resigns his chair. 
By which it moves. 

Petron. I will dance with my duke too ; 
1 will not out. [in this 

Coz. Begin then. — [^They dance.^ — There's more 
Than yet 1 have discover'd. Some (Edipus 
Resolve this riddle. 

Petron. Did 1 not foot it roundly ? [Falls. 

* San I/,. And I, my lord, chose rather 

To detivir her better pirteil than she is] i. e. gifted or 
endowed with better parts, ic. See Virgin Martyr, Act 
II., Sc. 3. 

It M'tiiis to have been llie opinion of Mas?inger and his 
fellow divtiiiatists, that no play coiild siirceed without the 
irfniitsioci of some kind of farcical inieiliide among the 
graver scenes. If the dramas of our auihor be iiiliniHtely 
Considered, few will be found without some extraneous 
mumiueiy of ilii.'< <lescription ; and, indeed, nothing hut a 
persiM.'.ioii iif the nature which I li.ive just iiiiiitioned 
could give birth to the poor mockery belbre us. As a trick, 
It is so gross and palpab.e, tli.it the duke could niit have 
been deceived by it for a moment Cto do liim justice, he 
lre(iuently hi,.ts his suspicions); and as a piece of humour, 
it is so low, and even disagreeable, that I cannot avoid 
regielting a proper regird tor his characters had not pre- 
vented liie author from adopting H uu the present ^)cca^ion. 



Coz. As I live, stark drunk ! away with her. 
We'll reward you, 

[Exeunt Servants with Petronelim 

When you have cool'd yourselves in the cellar. 

Cap. Heaven preserve you ! 

Coz. We pity Charomonte's wretched fortune 
In a daughter, nav, a monster. Good old man ! 
The place grows tedious ; our remove shall be 
With speed : we'll only in a word or two 
Take leave, and comfort him. 

Sanaz. 'Twill rather, sir. 
Increase his sorrow, that you know his shame •, 
Your grace may do it by letter. 

Cos. Who sign'd you ' 

A patent to direct us ? Wait our coming. 
In the garden. 

Giov. All will out. 

Sanaz. I more than fear it. 

[Exeunt Giovanni and Sannzarru 

Coz. These are stratigfl chimeras to us : what t« 
judge oft 
Is past our apprehension. One command 
Charomonte to attend us. [E.rit an AttendanLl 

Can it be 
That Contarino could be so besotted 
As to admire this prodigy ! or her father 
'I'o dote upon it ! Or does she personate*. 
For some ends unknown to us, in this rude beha 

viour. 
Which in the scene presented, would a])pear 
Ridiculous and impossible. O, you are welcome. 

Enter CuAROMONiE. 

We now acknowledge tlie mticli wrong we did yon 
In our unjust suspic ion. We have seen 
The wonder, sir, >onr datighter. 

Char. And hav<= foufid her 
Such as 1 did report her. What she wanted 
In courtshij't, was, 1 hope, supplied in civil 
And modest entertainment. 

Cos. Pray you, tell us, 
And truly, we command you, did you never 
Observe she was given to drink ] 
Char. To drink, sir! 
Ot.». Yes : nay more, to be drunk 1 
Char. I had rather see her buried. 
. Coz. Dare you trust your own eyes, if you find 

her now 
I More than distemjier'd ? 

I Char. I will pull them out, sir, [please 

I If your grace can make this good. And if you 

To grant me liberty, as she is Til fetch her, 
I And in a moment. 

Ci'z. L"ok you d^, sind fail not. 
On the peril of your head. 

C/iar. Drunk ! — She disdains it. [Exit. 

I • or does she perfon.ile. 

For same ends unknotvn to us.' — 'I'his rude behaviour 
Within the scene presented, would appear 
Ridiculous and impossible.] So the old copy. Mr. M. 
Mason reads, 

Or does .^he personate. 

For some ends unknown to vs. this rude behaviour. 
Which, in the scene presented, would, &c.| 
And I have continued it, although the old reading make* 
very good sense. 'Id peisonate is used here widi great pro- 
priety, for — to play a lictiiious character. 

t ll'ltat she uantcd 

In conrtship,] Courtship is used here for that grace an<( 
elegance oi behaviour whicli a retired gentleman xni^A 
euppuse to be taught and practised at court. 



<t8 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORFNCE. 



[Act IV. 



Cn. Such contrarieties were never read of. 
Chamoronte is no fool ; nor can I tliink 
His confidence built on sand. We are abused, 
'Tis too apparent. 

Ue-enter Charomonte with Lidia. 

Lid. I am indisposed sir ; 
And ihat life you once tender'd much endanger'd 
In forcinj; me from my chamber. 

Char. Here she is, sir ; 
Suddenly sick, I gnint ; but, sure, not drunk ; 
Speak to my lord tlie duke. 

Lid. All is discover'n. [Kneels. 

Citz. Is this vour only daughter ? 

Chan And my heir, sir ; 
Nor keep I any woman in my * house 
(Unless for sordid offices) but one 
1 do maintain, trimm'd up in her cast I)abits, 
To make her sport : and she, indeed, loves wine, 
And will take too much of it : and, perhaps, for 

mirth, 
She was preseufed to you. 

Coz. It shall yield ' 
No sport to the contrivers. 'Tis too plain now. 
Her presence does confirm what Contarino 
Dtliver'd of her ; nor can sickness dim 
The splendour of her beauties ; being herself, then. 
She must exceed his ])raise. 

Lid. Will your grace hear me? 
I'm faint, and can say little. 

Coz Here are accents 
Whose every syllable is musical ! 
Pray you, let me raise you, and awhile rest here. 
False Sanazarro, treacherous (jiovanni ! 
But stajid we talking! 

Char. Here's a storm soon raised. [swear 

Coz. As thou art our subject, Charomonte, 
To act what we command. 

Char. That is an oath 
I long since took. 

Coz. 1 hen, by that oath we charge thee. 
Without excuse, denial, or delay. 
To apprehend, and suddenly, Sanazarro, 
And our ungrateful nephew. We have said it. 
Do it without reply, or we pronounce thee. 
Like them, a traitor to us. See them guarded 
In several lodgings, and forbid access 
To all, but when we warrant. Is our will 
Heard sooner than obey'il ? 

Char. These are strange turns ; 
But I must not dispute them. \_Exit. 

Coz. Be severe in't. 
O my abused lenity ! from what height 
Is my power fall'n ! • 

Lid. () me most miserable ! 
That, being innocent, make others guilty. 
Most gracious prince 

Cos. Pray you rise, and then speak to me. 

• A'or keep I any woman in my house. Coxeler had 
dropt a word at the press, and Mr. M. Mason was reduced 
(u guess »bat it nii^lit be. lie failed as iisu.il: luckily the 
mistake was of no further consequence than to show with 
what pertinacity he persisted in not cunsultin;; the old 
copies. 



Lid. My knees shall first he rooted in this earth 
And, Myrrha-like, I'll g/ow up to a tree. 
Dropping perpetual tear« of sorrow, v.hich 
Harden'd by the rough wind, and turn'd to amber, 
Unfortunate virgins like myself shall wear; 
Before I'll make petition to your greatness. 
Rut with such reverence, my hands held up thus. 
As I would do to heaven. Vou princes are 
As gods on earth to us, and to be sued to 
With such humility, as his deputies 
Way challenge from their vassals. 

Coz. Here's that form 
Of language I expected ; pray you, speak 
What is vour suit ? 

Lid. i hat you would look upon me 
As an humhle thing, that millions of drgrees 
Is placed beneath you : for what am 1, dread sir. 
Or what can fall in the whole course of my life, 
'i'hat may be worth your care, mucn less your 

trouble ? 
As the lowly shrub is to the lofty cedar. 
Or a molehill to Olymjjus, if compared, 
I am to you, sir. Or, suppose the prince, 
(Which cannot find belief in nie), forgetting 
'J"he greatness of his birth and hopes, hath thrown 
."^n eye of favour on me, in me punish, 
'i'hat am the cause, the rashness of his youth. 
Shall the queen of the inhabitants of the air, 
The eagle, that bears tliunder on her wings, 
In her angry mood destroy her hopeful young. 
For suffering a wren to perch too near them ? 
Such is our disproportion. 

Coz. With what fervour 
She pleads against herseif ! 

Lid. For me, poor maid, 
I know the prince to be so far above me, 
'i'hat my wishes cannot reach him. Yet I am 
So much his creature, that, to fix him in 
Your wonted grace and favour, I'll abjure 
His sight for ever, and betalce myself 
To a religious life (where in my prayers 
1 may remember him), and ne'er see man more. 
But my ghostly father. Will you trust me, sir? 
In truth I'll keep my word ; or, if this fail, 
A little more of fear what may befal him 
Will stop my breath for ever. 

Coz. Had you thus argued [Raises htr. 

As vou were yourself,, and brought as advocates 
Your lu^altli and beauty, to make way for you. 
No crime of his could put on such a shape 
But 1 should look with the eyes of mercy on it. 
What would I give to see this diamond 
In her perfect lustre, as she was before [fort ; 

The clouds of sickness dimm'd it ! Yet take com- 
And, as vou would obtain remission for 
His treachery to me, cheer your drooping spirits. 
And call the blood again into your cheeks, 
And then plead lor hmi ; and in such a habit 
As in your highest hopes you would put on, 
If we were to receive you for our bride. 

Lid. I'll do my best, sir. 

Coz. And that best will be 
A crown of all felicity to me. [Exeunt 



SCBXB I.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



ti» 



ACT V 



SCENE I. — Tne same. An upper Chamber in Charo- 
monte's House. 
Enter Sanazarro. 
Sanaz. 'Tis proved in me ; the curse of human 
frailty, 
Adding to our afflictions, makes us know 
" What's good ; and yet our violent passions force us 
To follow what is ill. Reason assured me 
It was not safe to shave a lion's skin ; 
And that to trifle with a sovereign was 
To play with lightning: yet imperious beauty, 
Treading upon the neck of understanding, 
Compell'd me to put oft" my natural shape 
Of loyal duty, to disguise myself 
In the adulterate and cobweb mask 
Of disobedient treachery. Where is now 
My borro^v'd greatness, or the promised lives 
Of follouing courtiers echoing my will? 
In a moment vanish'd ! Power that stands not on 
Its proper base, which is peculiar only 
To absolute princes, falls or rises with 
Their frown or favuur. 'J'he great duke, my master 
(Who almost changed me to his other self,) 
No sooner takes his beams of comfort i'rora me. 
But I, as one unknown, or uiiregarded, 
Unpiiied suffer. Wlio makes intercession 
To his mercy for rne, now ? who does remember 
'I'he service I have done him ? not a man : 
And such as spake no language but, My lord 
The favourite of I'uscany's grand duke, 
Deride my madness. — Ha ! wliat noise of horses ? 

[//e looks hack, 
A goodly troop ! This back part of my prison 
Allows nie liberty to see and know them. 
Contarino ? yes, 'tis he, and Lodovico* ; 
And the duchess Fiorinda, Urbin's heir, 
A princess 1 have slighted : yet I wear 
Her favours ; and, to leach me what I am. 
She whom I .scorn'd can only mediate for me. 
This way she makes, yet speak to her I dare not ; 
And how to make suit to her is a task 
Of as much difficulty. — Yes, ihou blessed pledge 

[^Takes oj^ the ting. 
Of her affection, aifl me! This supplies 
The want of pen and ink ; and tliis, of paper. 

[Takes a jiuiie of glass. 
It must be so ; and I in my- petition 
Concise and pithy. 



SCENE II. — Tiie Court before Cliaromonte's House. 

Etiter Contarino leading in Fiorinda, Alphcnso, 

HirpoLiTO, HiERONiMO, and Calaminta. 

Fior, 'Tis a goodly pile, this. 
Hier. But betterf by the owner. 

• Lodovico;'] i.e. Lodovico Hippolito. 

t Rut heUcT by Ihe ownerA Mr. M M.isoii reads fct-ffcr^d, 
which spoils the climax iiittnded by iheaiillior: to complete 
his fiiRiidation, he should have read, iu the next line, — Bui 
moit ti:i j(-hed, &c. States, in the liiUowing line, are states- 
men, men of power, &(.., a sense in which it was commonly 
«sed. 



Jtph. But most rich 
In the great states it covers. 

FioY. The duke's pleasure 
Commands us hither. 

Cont. Which was laid on us 
To attend you to it. 

Hip. Signior Charomonte, 
To see your excellence his guest, will think 
Himself most happy. 

Fior. Tie my shoe.— [T/ie pa7ie falls doun.'] — 
What's that ? 
A pane thrown from the window, no wind stirring I 

Calam. And at your feet too fall'n : — there's 
something writ on't. 

Cont. Some courtier, belike, would have it known 
He wore a diamond. 

Calam. Ha ! it is directed 
To the princess Fiorinda. 

Fior, We will read it. [Heads. 

He whom you pleased to favour, is cast down 
Past hope nf rising, by the great duke's J'rown 
If, by your gracious means, he cannot hiiie 
A pardon; — and that got, he liies your start. 
Of men the most distressed. 

Sanazarro. 
Of me the most beloved ; and I will save thee. 
Or perish with thee. Sure, thy fault must be 
Of some prodigious shape, if tl)at my prayers 
And humble intercession to the duke, 

Enter Cozimo and Charomonie. 
Prevail not with liim. Here he comes ; delay 
Shall not make less my benefit. 

Coz. What we purpose 
Shall know no change, and therefore move me not. v 
We were made as properties, and what we shall 
Determine of them cannot be call'd rigour. 
But noble justice. Wlien they proved disloyal. 
They were cruel to themselves. The prince that 

pardons 
The first affront ofTer'd to majesty. 
Invites a second, rendering that power 
Subjects should tremble at, contemptible 
Ingratitude is a monster, Carolo, 
To be strangled in the birth, not to be cherisU'd. 
Madam, you're happily met with. 

Fior. Sir, I am 
An humble suitor to you ; and the rather 
Am confident of a grant, in that your grace, 
When I made choice to be at your devotion, 
Vow'd to deny me nothing. 

Coz. To this minute 
We have confirm 'd it. What's your boon ? 

Fior. It is, sir, 
Ihat you, in being gracious to your servant, 
'J'he ne'er sufficiently praised Sanazarro, 
That now under your heavy displeasure suffers. 
Would be good unto yourself. His services. 
So man)', and so great (your storm of fury 
Calm'd by your better judgment), must inform yon 
Some little slip, for sure it is no more. 
From his loyal duty, with your justice cannot 
jMake foul his fair deservings. Great sir, therefore, 
Look backward on his former worth, and turning 



tto 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE, 



[Act V, 



Vour eye from his offence, what 'tis 1 know iiot, 
And, 1 am confident, you will receive him 
Once more into your favour. 

Cos. Von say well, 
You are itinerant in the nature of his fault ; 
Which when vou understand, as we'll instruct you. 
Your pity will appear a charitv. 
It being conferr'd on an unthankful man, 
To be repented. He's a traitor, madam. 
To you, to us, to gratitude; and iu tliat 
All crimes are comprehended. 

Finr. If his offence 
Aim'd at me only, whatsoe'er it is, 
'Tis freely pardon'd. 

Coz. This compassion in you 
Must make the colour of his guilt more ugly. 
The honours we have hourly heap'd upon him, 
The titles, the rewards, to the envy of 
Tiie old nobility, as the common people. 
We now forbear to touch at, and will only 
Insist on his gross wrongs to you. You were 

pleased. 
Forgetting both yourself and proper greatness. 
To favour him, nay, to court him to embrace 
A happiness, which, on his knees, wiih joy 
He should have sued for. Who repined not at ~ 
The grace you did him ? yet, in recompense 
Of your large bounties, the disloyal wretch 
Makes you a stale; and, what he might be by you 
Scorn'd and derided, gives himself up wholly 
To the service of another. If \ou c;m 
Bear this with patience, we must say you have not 
The bitterness of spleen, or ireful passions 
Familiar to women. Pause ui)on it. 
And when you have seriously weigh'd his carriage, 
Move us again, if your reason will allow it. 
His treachery known: and then, if you continue 
An advocate for him, we, jierhaps, because 
We wouhl deny you nothing, may awake 
Our sleeping mercy. Carolo ! 

Char, yiy lord. [Ifiey talk aside, 

Fior. To endure a rival that were equal to me 
Cannot but speak my poverty of spirit ; 
But an inferior, mor« ; yet tiue love must not 
Know or degrees, or distances; Lidia may be 
As far abo> e me in her form, as she 
Is in her birth beneath me ; and what I 
In SiHiazarro liked, he loves in her. 
But. if 1 free him now, the benetit 
Being done so timely, and contirming too 
My strength and power, my soul's best faculties 

being- 
Bent wholly to preserve him, must supply me 
Wit'i all I am defective in, and bind him 
My creature ever. It must needs be so. 
Nor will I give it o'er thus, 

Coz. Does our nephew 
Bear his restraint so constantly*, as you 
Deliver it to us '. 

Char, in my judgment, sir. 
He sutlers more lor his offence to you. 
Than in his fear of what can follow it. 
For he is so collected, and prepared 
To welci me that you shall iletermine of him. 
As if his doubts and (ears were eijual to him. 



• Coz. Does our nephew 

Sear kit restraint so constantly,] i. c. with such unshaken 
(alienee, such immoveable resolution, iMic. 



And sure he's not acquainted with much guilt, 
That more laments the telling one untruth. 
Under your pardon still, for 'twas a fault, sir. 
Than others, that pretend to conscience, do 
Til' ir crying secret sins. 

Coz. No more ; this gloss • 

Deiends not the corruption of tLetext; 
Urge It no more. 

[^Charomonte and the olhert taut tt$ut», 

Fior. I once more must make bold, sir. 
To trench upon your patience. I have 
Con.sider'd my wrongs duly : yet that cannot 
Pivert my intercession for a man 
Your griice, like me, once favour'd. I am still 
A suppliant to you, that ^jou would vouchsafe 
The hearing his defence, and that 1 may, 
t With your allowance see and comfort lum. 
Then, having heard all that he can allege 
In Ills excuse, fir being false to you, 
Censure him as you please. 

Coz. You will o'ercome ; 
There's no contending with you. Pray you, enjoy 
What you desire, and tell him, he shall have 
A speedy trial ; in which we'll forbear 
To sit a judge, because our purpose is 
To rise ui) his accuser. 

Fior. All increase 
Of hajipiiiess wait on Cozimo ! 

[ F.ieuni Fiorinda and Calaminta. 
Aljih. Was it no more ] 

Char. My honour's pawn'd for it. 

jC()//J. I'll second you. 

//)';;. Since it is j'oi the service and the safety 
Of the hopeful prince, fall what can fall, I'll run 
The tle.s|ierate Imzard. 

Hier. lie's 110 friend to virtue 
Thai does decline it. 

[Theu all come J orvard and hnteU 

C-'Z. Ha! what £'i^^ you for? 
Shall we be ever trou'i,ied ? Do not tempt 
I h it anger may consume yuu. 

C/i(ir. Let it, sir : 
I he loss is less, tliouuh innocents we perish, 
'i'hiin that your sister's son sliou d tall, unheard, 
Under your iury. Shall we lear to enireat 
'J'hat grace lor him, that are your faithful servants 
\\ hicli you vouchsa.'"e the count, like us a subject! 

Coz. Did not we vow, till sickness had forsook 
Thy daughter Lidia, and she appear'd 
In her perfect health and beauty to plead for him. 
We were deaf to all persuasion I 

Char. And that hope, sir. 
Hath wrought a miracle. She is recover'd, 
And, if vou please to warrant her, will brinj 
The penitent prince before you. 

Coz. To enjoy 
Such happiness, what would we not dispense witli 

Alph Hip. Hier. We all kneel tor the prince. 

Cunt. Nor can it stand 
With your mercy, that are gracious to strangers, 
'Jo be cruel to your own. 

Coz. But art thou certain 
I shall behold her at the best? 

Char. If ever 
She was handsome, as it fits not me to say so. 
She is now much better'd. 

Coz. Rise ; thou art but dead 
If this prove otherwise. Lidia, appear, 
I And feast an appetite almost pined to death 



Scene III.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



«t« 



With longjing expectation to behold 

Thy excellencies : thou as beauty's queen, 

Shalt censure tlie detractors*. Let my nephew 

Be led in triumph under her command ; 

We'll have it so ; and ^anazarro tremble 

To think whom he hath slander'd. We'll retire 

Oarselves a little, and prepare to meet 

A blessing, which imagination tells us 

We are not worthy of: and then come forth, 

But with such reverence, as if I were 

Myself the jiriest, the sacrifice my heart. 

To offer at tlie altar of that goodness 

That must or kill or save me. 

Char. Are not these 
StTange gambols in the duke] 

Alph. Great princes have, 
Like meaner men, their weakness. 

Hii>. And may use it 
Without control or check. . 

Coiit. ' Tis fit tliey should ; 
Their privilege were less else, than their subjects'. 

Hier. Let them have their humours ; there's no 
crossing them. \_Ei.eunt, 



SCENE IIL — A state-room in thesame. 
Enter Fiorinda, Sanazarro, and Calaminta. 

Sanaz, And can it be, your bounties should full 
down 
In showers on my ingratitude, or the wrongs 
Your greatness sliould revengf, teach vou to pity'? 
What retribution can I make, what service 
Pay to your goodness, that, in some proportion. 
May to t!ie world express 1 would be thankful] 
Since mv engagements are so great, that all 
My best endeavours to appear your creature 
Can but proclaim my wants, and what 1 owe 
To y»ur magnificence. 

Ftnr. All debts are discharged 
In this acknowledgment : yet since you please 
1 shall impose some terms of satisfaction 
For that which you profess yourself obliged for. 
They shall be gentle ones, and such as will not, 
I hope, afflict you. 

Sanaz. Make me understand. 
Great princess, what they are, and my obedience 
Shall, with all cheerful willingness, sub^cribe 
To what you shall command, 

FL>r. 1 will bind you to 
Make goid your promise. First, I then enjoin you 
To love a lady, that, a noblf> way. 
Truly afl'ects you, and that you would take 
To your protection and lare the dukedom 
Of Urbin, which no more is mine, but your's. 
And that, when you have full possession of 
My ])erson as my fortune, you would use me 
Not as a princess, but instruct me in 
The duties of an huniltle wife, for such, 
The privilege of my birth no more remember'd, 
I will be to you. This consented to, 
All injuries forgotten, on your lips 
I thus sign your quietus. 

-Ihnn, as beauty's queen, 



Shalt reiiMire the detractors.] Censure, as 1 have already 
obstTVfii, is tistd by our old writers where we should now 
use jiidiie, and wiili the same latitude of meaning tliroiiijh 
its various acceptationit. 



Sanns. I am wretched. 
In having but one life to be employ'd 
As you please to dispose it. And, believe it, 
If it be not already forfeited 
To the fury of my prince, as 'tis your gift, 
With all the faculties nf my soul I'll study, 
In what I may, to serve you. 

Fior. I am hapjiy 

Entei Giovanni and Lidia. 
In this assurance. What 
Sweet lady's thi-i 1 

Sanaz. 'Tis Lidia, madam, she 

Fior. I underitand you. 
Nay, blush not ; by my life, she is a rare one ; 
And, if I were your judge, I would not blame you 
To like and love her. But, sir, you are mine nowj 
And I presume so on your constancy. 
That I dare not be jealous. 

Sanaz. All thoughts of her 
Are in your goodness buried. 

Lid. Pray you, sir. 
Be comforted ; your innocence should not know 
What 'tis to fear ; and if that you but look on 
The guards that you have in yourself, you cannot. 
The duke's your uncle, sir, and though a little 
Incensed against you, when he sees _\'our sorrow. 
He must be reconciled. What rugged Tartar, 
Or cannibal, though bathed in human gore. 
Hut, looking on your sweetness, would forget 
His cruel nature, and let fall his weaj)on. 
Though then aim'd at your throat; 

Giov. O Lidia, 
Of maids the honour, and your sex's glory ! 
It is not fear to die, but to lose you. 
That brings this fever on me. i will now 
Discover to you, tint which, till this minute, 
I dur.~t not trust the air with. Ere ynu knew 
What power the magic of your beauty had, 
I was enchanted h\ it, liked, and loved it. 
My fondness still illcrea^illg wnb my years; 
And, flatter'd by false hopes, I did iitteud 
Some blessed oyjportunity to move 
The duke with Ins consent to malce you mine: 
But now, such is my star-cross'd destiny. 
When be behoUls you as you are, he caimot 
Deny himself the happiness to enjoy you. 
And I as well in reas .n may entreat hitn 
To give away his crown, as to part from 
A jewel of more value, such you are. 
Yet, liowsoever, when you are his duchess. 
And I am tiiru'd into forgotten dust, 
Pray you, love my memory : — 1 should say more, 
But I'm cut off. 

Enter CoziMO, ("nAROMONXE.CoNTAniNO, IIieronimo 
Hirpoi.iio, and Ai phonsh. 

Sanaz. The duke!' '1 hat countenance, once, 
When it was clothed in smiles, show'tl like an angel'* 
Biit, now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury, 
'lis terrible to took on. 

Lid. Hu: 

Coz- A while 
Silence your musical tongue, and let me feast 
My eyes with the most ravishing object that 
They ever gazed on. There's no miniature 
In her fair face, but is a copious theme 
Which would, discoursed at large of, make a volume 
What clear arch'd brows ! what sparkling eyes ! tb» 
lilies 



222 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE. 



[Act. V 



Contending: with the roses in Iier cheeks. 

Who .slr.iU most set them off. What ruby lips! — 

Or unto what can I compare her neck, 

But to a rock of crystal ? every limb 

Proportion d to love's wish, and in their neatness 

Add lustre, to the riches of her habit, 

Not borrow from it 

Lid. Vou are pleased to shon', sir, 
The fluency of your lanffuage, in advancing 
A subject much unworthy. 

Coz. How ! unworthy ! 
By all the vows which lovers offer at 
The Cyprian goddess' altars, eloquence 
Itself presuming:, as you are. to sjieak you, 
Would be struck dumb! — And what have you de- 
served then [Giovanni and Sanazarro kneel. 
(Wretches, you kneel too late), that have endea- 

vour'd 
To spout the poison of yotir black detraction 
On this immaculate whiteness ? was it malice 
To lier perfections ? or 

Fior. Your highness promised 
A gracious hearing t'> the count. 

Lid. And prince too ; 
Do not make void so just a grant. 

Coz. VVe will not : 
Yet, since their accusation must be urged, 
And strongly, ere tlieir weak defence have Iiearing, 
We seat you here, as judges, to determine 
Of your gross wrongs, and ours. [Seats the Ladies 

ill the-chaiis of stute.] And now, remembering 
Whose deputies vou are, be neither sway'd 
Or with ])iirticu!ar S])leen, or foolish pity, 
For neither can become you. . 

Char. Tliere's some hope yet. 
Since they have such gentle judges. 

Coz. Rise, and stand for h, then. 
And hear, with horror to your guilty souls, fcess. 
What we will prove against you. Could this prin- 
rhou enemy to thyself! [To Sanazarro.'\ stoop her 

high flight 
Of towering greatness to invite thy lowness 
To look u]) to it, and with nimble wings 
Of gratitude coiild.st tliou forl>ear to meet it? 
Were her favours boun<l!ess in a nnble way, 
And warranted by our allowance, yet, 
In thy acce])tatinn, there appear'd no sign 
Of a modest thankfulness? 

Fior. Pr.iv you forbear 
To press th.it further; 'tis a fault we have 
Already he;ird, and pardon'd. 

Coz. We will then 
Pass over it, and briefly touch at that 
Which do(!s concern nuvself ; in which both being 
Equal offenders, wiiat we shall speak points 
Indifferently at either. How we raised thee, 
Forgetful Sanazarro ! of our grace. 
To a full possession of power and honours. 
It being too well Icnown, we'll not remember. 
And what thou wtrt, rash youth, in expectation, 

[To Giovanni. 
And from which headlong thou hast thrown thyself. 
Not Florence, but all luscanv can uitness 
With admiration, 'i'o assure thy hopes, 
We did keep constant to a widowed bed, 
And did deny ourself ilmse lawful ]ileasures 
Our absolute powt-r and height of blood allow'd us ; 
Made hoih, the ki^vs that open'd our heart's secrets. 
And what yon >paki, believed as oracles : 
But you, in recompense oi' this, to hiiu 



That gave you all, to whom you owed your being, 
With treacherous lies endeavour'd to conceal 
This jewel from our knowledge, which ourself 
Could only lay just claim to. 

Giov. 'J'is most true, sir. 

Sanaz. We both confess a guilty cause. 

Coz. I ook on her. 
Is this a bea;.ty fit to be embraced 
By any subject's arms ? can any tire 
Become that forehead, but a diadem 1 
Or, should we grant your beinjj false to us 
Could be excu-ed, your treachery to her. 
In seeking to deprive her of that greatness 
( Her matchless form consider'd ) she was born to, 
Must ne'er find p:irdon. We have spoken, ladies, 
Like a rough orator, that brings more truth 
Than rhetoric to make good his accusation ; 
And now expect your sentence. 

[The Ladies descend Jrom the state'' 

Lid. In your birth, sir, 
You were mark'd out the judge of life and death. 
And we, that are your subjects, to attend. 
With trembling fear, your doom. 

Fior. We do resign 
This chair, as only proper to vourself. 

Gioi. And since injustice we are lost, we fly 
Unto your saving mercy. [AU kneeling^ 

Sanaz. Which sets oft' 
A prince, much more than rigour. 

Char. And becomes him. 
When 'tis express'd to such as fell by weakness. 
That being a twin-born brother to atl'ection, 
Better than wreaths of contjuest. 

Hier. Hip. Cont. Alph. We all speak 
Their language, mighty sir. 

Coz, You know our temper. 
And therefore with more boldness venture on it : 
And, would not our cou.sent to your demands 
I )eprive us of a liappiness hereafter 
Ever to be despaired of, we, perhaps, 
Might hearken nearer to you ; and could wi.sh 
With some (juaHHcalion or excuse 
You might make less the mountains of your crimes. 
And so invite our clemency to feast with you. 
But you, that knew with what impatiency 
Of grief we parted from the fair Ciarinda, 
Our duchess ( let her memory still be sacred !), 
And with what imprecations on ourself 
We vow'd, not lioping e'er to see her equal. 
Ne'er to make trial of a second choice, 
If nature framed not one that did excel her. 
As this maid's beauty ])rompts us that she does: 
And yet, with oaths then niix'd with tear.-, upon 
Her monument we swore our eye should never 
Again be tempted ; — 'tis true, and those vo^s 
Are registered tibove, sonietling here tells me. 
Carolo, thou heardst us ^wear. 

Char. And swear so deeply. 
That if all women's beauties were in this, 
(As she's not to be named with the dead duchess,) 
Nay all their virtues bound up in one story 
(Of which mine is scarce an epitome), 
If you should take her as a wife, the weight 
Of your perjuries would sink you. If I uurst, 
I had told you this before. 

Coz. "lis strong truth. Carolo : 



♦ The ladies descend from the i\A\e.\ i.e. Ironi I lie r,ii«ed 
plHtfuriri (Jh wliicli tlie tlidiis wtre placed. Si»' The UtauU 
man. Act I., sc. iii. 



Scene HI.] 



THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE, 



223 



And yet, what was necessity in us 
Cannot free them from treason. 

Char. There's your error ; 
The prince, in ciire to have you keep your vows 
Made unto heaven, vouchsafed to love my daughter*. 

Lid. He told me so, indeed, sir. 

Fior. And the count 
Averr'd as much to me. 

Cos. Vou all conspire 
To force our mercy from us. 

Char. Which given up. 
To aftertimes preserves you unforsworn : 
An honour, which will live upon your tomb, 
When ^our greatness is forgotten. 

Coz. Though we knowf 
All this is practice, and that both are false ; 
Such reverence we will pay to dead Ciarinda, 
And to our serious oaths, that we are pleased 
With our own hand to blind our eyes, and not 
Know what we understand. Here, Giovanni, 
We pardon thee ; and take from us, in this. 
More than our dukedom : love her. As I part 
With her, all thoughts of women fly fast from us ! 
Sanazarro, we forgive you : in your service 
To this princess merit it. Yet, let not others 
That are in trust and grace, as you have been, 
By the example of our lenity 
Presume upon their sovereign's clemency. 

Enter Calasduino and Peironella. 

Alt. Long live great Cozimo ! 

Cat. Sure the duke is 
In the giving vein, they are so loud. Come on, 

spouse. — 
We have heard all, and we will have our boon too. 

Coz. What is it? 

Cat. That your grace, in remembrance of 
My share in a dance, and that 1 plpy'd yo'ir part. 
When you should have drunk hard, would get this 

signior's grant 
To give this damsel to me in the church. 
For we are contracted. In it you shall do 
Your dukedom pleasure. 

Coz. How? 

Cat. Why, the whole race 
Of such as can act naturally fools' parts, 
Are quite worn out ; and they that do survive, 
Do only zany us: and we will bring you, 



• The prince, in care to have you keep your vows 

Made unto heaven, vouchsafed to love my dauyhfer.] 
This attempt to impose upon tlie great duke is inuro deplor- 
ablt! than the former. It has falsehood and improbability 
written on its face: the duke indeed is not deceived by it ; 
but surely the author showed a strange want of judginent 
in this gratuitous degradation of three of hi» most estimable 
characters, 
t Coz. Though we know 

All this it practice,] i. e. artifice, or insidious design. So 
in Shakspeare : 

•' Thif act persuades me 

That this remotion of the duke and her 

I* practice only." King Lear. 



If we die not without issue, of botl sexes. 
Such chopping mirth-makers, as sliall preserve 
Perpetual cause of sport, both to "our grace 
And your posterity, that sad n lela icholy 
Shall ne'er ajiproach you. 

Coz. We are plea.sed in it, 
And will pay her portion. [Cornea forward. 

May the passage prove, 
Of what's presented, u'or(/ii/ of your Une 
And favour, a.> vius aim'd ; and tve have all 
That can in compass if our wishes fall. [Exeunt* 



• It is impossible not to be charmed with the manner in 
which this play is written. The style is worthy of lliu most 
polished stage. It neither descends to meanness, imr iiiltcts 
a blustering magnificence, but preserves an e.isy ilcvation 
and a mild dignity; and attbrds an excellent H.odcl l»r the 
transaction of dr.ini.itic business between persons of liiyh 
rank and relined education. As to the subject, it Is, in itself, 
of no great import.tnce : but this is somuwli.it coniiK-ns.iteii 
by llie interest which ihe princip.il ch.iracters tike in it, 
and the connection ot love with the views of st.ite. — The 
.scenes between Giovanni and Lidit present a most bLMiiiiful 
picture of artless attachment, and of that unrcserveil inno- 
cence and tender simplicity which Massinger describes in a 
manner so eminently happy. 

it i.« to be wished that this were all ; for the impression 
on Ihe mind of the reader makes him more than usually 
fearful of any distiirb.ince of his feelings, lint in the drama, 
as in life itself, something will ever be amiss, 'i'lie very 
attractive manner in which the characters ai,;! their con- 
cerns are announced is m.tde to change as the plot advances 
to its conclusion ; and in the fourth act we are grieved to 
see them 

In pejus mere, ac retro sublapsa referri. 

The charm of Lidia is dissolved by the substitution of Petro 
nella, — a contrivance which U at once me.in and rluinsy, 
and is conceived in utter defiance of the general character of 
Cozimo. The only way of removing this objection was to 
alter Co7.iiiio hinuself, together with the delicacy of the sub- 
j;o:. This is done for the sake of maintaiiiiii!; an imhippy 
consistency. 'Ihe diike is cmnpelled to forego his usual 
dignity and sag.iclty. He loses the very renieinbrance of bis 
own motives of aciion, and is played upon by those who are 
themselves sunk in our esteem. 

The connection of the plot with .in event in the life of 
Edg.ir has been mentioneil by the Editor. As to Co/imo, 
some circumstances seem to point him out as the fiist grand 
duke. I'isa and Sienna are alluded to as recent acqiiisiiioiis ; 
though Contarino is too complaisant in atlriliuling the con 
quest to the arms of his master. There are some personal 
points w hich may assist this conjecture. Co/.inio is addressed 
in a suboii.ssive manner, and seems to be conscious that his 
resentment is feared by those around him : and this reminds 
us of the man who coveted the title of King, and executed 
summary justice on a son with his own hand. However, 
oilier circumstances rather allude to a peiiod not mmh 
earlier than the date of this very play;'t>(>. some attempt at 
independence by the Pisans, which Sanazarro might liave 
checked ; and some benefit derived to Florence (though not 
of the kind here mentioned; from the duchy of Urbino. 
But why a nephew was called in, when a son was not 
wanting to either of the Cosmos, or why Ihe state of a child- 
less widower was invented for the great duke, is not so easy 
to gues^ : nor is it wcith our while. — The dramatist rejects 
or invents as he pleases; and what he chooses to ado|it may 
be divided between distant ages or countries. The incidents 
of his arbitrary story are widely dispersed, like the limbi 
wantonly scattered by Medea ; and, if ever to be found, 
must be searched for in places remote and unexpected : 
Ditiipat in multis invenienda locis. 

Db. Ireland. 



THE MAID OF HONOUJl. 



The Maid or Honour.] — TTiis " Trafji-comedv" does not appear, under the present title, in the Ofiic** 
book of Sir H. Herbert: but a play called The Honour of Women was entered there May 6th, 1C'28, which 
Mr. Malone conjectures to be the piece before us. He speaks, however, with some hesitation on the subject, 
as a play of Massinger's, called The Sjjanish Viceroii, or The Honour of IFomen, was entered at Stationers' Hall, 
for Humjilirey Mosely, in 1653. If this double title be correct, of which we may reasonably entertain a 
doubt, the plays cannot be the same ; for among the dramatis personaj of the present, no such character as 
a Spanish viceroy is to be found. Sicily, indeed, was long governed by viceroys from Spain ; but Roberto 
is here styled King, and constantly acts from himself. 

Mr. IMalone says, that The Maid of Honour was printed in 1631. All the copies which I have seen (foi 
there is but one edition) are dated 163'.', which was probably the earliest period of its appearance : as we 
learn from the commendatory verses prefixed to it by Sir Aston Cockayne, that it was printed after Thi 
Emperor cf the East, which was not given to the press till this year. 

'I'his play was always a favourite, and, indeed, with strict justice ; for it has a thousand claims to admira. 
tion and aj plause. It was frecpiently acted, the old title-page tells us, " at the Phwnix in J)rurie-lace, 
with good allowance, by the Queen's Majesties servants." An attempt was made some years since torevjvs 
it, by J\Ir. Kemble, but, as I have been informed, without success. 



TO MY MOST HONOURED FRIENDS, 

SIR FRANCIS FOLJAMBE, KNT. k BART., 

AND 

SIR THOMAS BLAND, KNT. 

That you have been, and continued so for many years, since you vouchsafed to own me, patrons to me 
and itiy despised studies, I cannot but wiih all humble thankfulness acknowledge ; and living as you bavB 
done, ii;separable in your friendship (notwithstanding all dilferences, and suits in law arising between you*), 
1 held it as impertinent as absurd, in the presentment of my service in this kind, to divide ymi. A free 
coniossion of a debt in a meaner man, is the amplest satisfaction to his superiors ; and 1 heartily wish that 
the world may take notice, and from myself, that 1 had not to this time subsisted, but that I was sujiported 
by your frecjuent courtesies and favours. When your more serious occasions will give you leave, \o\i may 
please to pei use this trifle, and peradventure find something in it that may app^-ar worthy of your protection 
Receive it, i beseech you, as a testimony of his dutv who, while he lives resolves to be 
Truly and sincerely devoted to your service. 

PiJli^lh MASSINGER, 



• Notwitl.M'uritUny all differenri's, and miils hi law a'tMm/ beiwcvi you.' The suit* in law— between these true frieodi 
oi Jla«6iiis»'r, oiigiii.i ed iu * quvsti'>ii as to tliu ri^lu oi' working siune coal mutes.— Cilchrist. 



Scene I.j 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



99ft 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



Roberto, king of Sicily. 

Ferdinand, duke of Urbin. 

Bertoldo, the king's natural brother, a knight of Malta. 

GoNzAGA, a knight of Malta, general to the duchess of' 

Sienna. 
ArruTio, a counsellor of state. 
FuLOENTio, the minion o/' Roberto. 
AuoRNi, a folio Iter of CamioVd's father. 
SiGNiOR SvLLi, a foolish setf-loier. 

^ ' ' i tu-o rich heirs, city-bred 

ijrASl'ARO, ) •' 

PiERio, a colonel to Gonzaga. 



RODERICO, -I , . , ^ 

Jacomo, ] captains to Gonzagn. 

Dnuso, ? ^ . , , -^ ,. , 

Livio * captains to duke Ferdinand. 

Father Paulo, a priest, Camiola's conftaor. 

Ambassador from the duke of Urbin. 

A bishop. 

A page. 

AuRELiA, duchess ©/"Sienna. 

Camiola, the Maid of Honour, 

Clabinda, her woman, 

Hcout, Soldiers, Gaoler, Attendants, Servants, i^e. 



SCENE, partly in Sicily, and partly in the Siennese. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — Palermo. A State-room in the palact. 
Enter Astutio and Adorni. 
Ador. Good day to your lordship. 
Ast. Thanks, Adorni, 

Ador. May I presume to ask if the ambassador 
Employ 'd by Ferdinand, the duke of Urbin, 
Hath audience this morning ? 

Enter Fulgentio. 

Ait, 'Tis uncertain ; 
For, thouo;h a counsellor of state, I am not 
Of the cabinet council : but here's one, if he please, 
That may resolve you. 

Ador. I will move him. — Sir ! 

FuL If you've a suit, shew water*, I am blind 
else. 

Ador; A suit; yet of a nature not to prove 
The quarry that you hawk for : if your words 
Are not like Indian wares, and every scruple 
To be weigh'd and rated, one poor syllable, 
Vouchsafed in answer of a fair demand, 
Cannot deserve a fee. 

FuL It seems you are ignorant, 
I neither speak nor hold my peace for nothing ; 
And yet, for once, I care not if I answer 
One single question, gratis. 

Ador. I much thank yoUi 
Hath the ambassador audience, sir, to-day ? 

Ftil. Yes. • 

Ador. At what hour ? 

FuL I promised not so much. 
A syllable you begg'd, my charity gave it ; 
Move me no further. [_Exit, 

Ast. This you wonder at: 
With me, 'tis usual. 

Ador. Pray you, sir, what is he? 



• Shew water.] i. e. to clear hi? sight. — This was a pro- 
vcibial peiiiilirasis for bribe, wliich in Mas.iinger'* days 
(though liappily not since f) was found to be the only colly- 
riani tor tUe eyes of a courtier. 



Ast. A gentleman, yet no lord*. He hath some 
drops 
Of the king's blood running in his veins, derived 
Some ten degrees off. His revenue lies 
In a narrow compass, the king's ear ; and yields him 
Every hour a fruitful harvest. Men may talk 
Of three crops in a year in the Fortunate Islands, 
Or profit made by wool ; Lut, while there are 

suitors. 
His sheepshearing, nav, shaving to the quick, 
Is in every quarter of the moon, and constant. 
In the time of trussing a point, he can undo 
Or make a man : his play or recreation 
Is to raise tljis up, or pull down that ; and, though 
He never yet took orders, makes more bishops 
In Sicily, than the pope himself. 

Enter Bertoldo, Gasparo, Antonio, and a Servant, 

Ador. Most sirange ! 

Ast. The presence fills. He in the Malta habit 
Is the natural brother of the king — a by-blow. 

Ador. I understand you. 

Gasp. Morrow to my uncle. 

Ant. And my late guardian: — but at length I 
have 
The reins in my own hands. 

Ast. Pray you, use them well, 
Or you'll too late repent it. 

Bert. With this jewel 
Presented to Camiola, prepare, [have 

This night, a visit for me. [Eiit Servant.'] 1 shall 
Vour companv, gallants, I perceive, if that 
The king will hear of war. 

Ant. Sir, I have horses 
Of the best breed in Naples, fitter far 
To break a rank than crack a lance ; and are. 
In iheir career, of such incredible swiftrii^ss, 
They outstrip swallows. 

• Ast. A gentleman, yet no lord.) Would not the fatire 
be more apparent, if tlie sentence weie reversed? As it 
stands now, it is scarcely intelligible. 



ns 



THE MAID OF HONOUR 



Act I.^ 



Bert. And such may be useful 
To run away with, sliould we be defeated • 
You are well j)rovided, signior. 

Ant. Sir, excuse me ; 
All of their V;icc, by instinct, Imow a coward, 
And scorn tlie burthen: they come on like light 

ninsf ; 
Founder'd in a retreat. 

Bert. 15y no means bactc them ; 
Unless you know vour courage sympathize 
With the daring of your horse. 

Ant. ]\Iy lord, this is bitter. 

Gasp 1 will rsiise me a company of foot; 
And, when at push of ])ike I am to enter 
A breach, to show my valour 1 have bought* me 
An r.rinour cannon-proof. 

Bert. You will not leap, then, 
O'er an outwork, in your ahirt ? 

Gasv. I do not like 
Activity that vfay- 

Bert. You had rather stand 
A m;irk to trv their muskets on 1 

Gasp. If I'do 
No good, I'll do no hurt. 

Bert 'Tis in you, sigiiior, 
A Christian resolution, and becomes you ' 
But I will not discourage you. 

Ant. You are, sir, 
A knight of Malta, and, as I have heard, 
Have served against the Turk. 

Bert. 'Tis true. 

Anf. Pray you, show us 
The difference between the city valour. 
And Service in the field. 

Bert. Tis somewhat more 
Than roaring in a tavern or a brothel. 
Or to steal d constablef from a sleeping watch, 
Then burn their halberds ; or, sale guarded by 
Your tenants' sons, to carry away a may-pole 
From a neighbour village. You will not find there. 
Your masters of dependencies^ to take up 



• to show my valour, I have bought me] 

CiixcliT and M. Mason read, 1 liavf brouyht ine : llie old 
cop> i- surely right. 

t Or to steal a comt.Mi- from a slrrping watch,'] For this 
exprtssioii, so exquisitely hiiiiiorous, the iiuiderii editors 
give IIS, 

Or to steal a lan'horii from a sleeping watch ! 
It is scarcely possible to inaik tiiese waiitoii deviations from 
llic original, wiiliout some dt'srec of warmth. By no pro- 
cess in hliiiidering coidd lanthom lie written for <:onstab!e: 
(he editori, therefore, miisl liave giaHiiloii.-Iy taken upon 
themselves the reformation ot t e laiitjii.ige. Pity lor the 
author must be mixed with our iudigiiatiim at tlieir pir- 
verse lemeiity, when we ihu^ find them banishiiii; his nio-t 
wit'v cxp|■es^ions from the text, uii<ler the bold idea of 
improving it ! 

It is tlie more singular tliat they should do this in the 
present case, as tlie same tlioiight, in nearly the same words, 
IS to be found in The lienegado. 

J t/ou will not find there 

Your masters of dependencies, &c.] Masters of de- 
pendencies were a set of needy bravoes, who unilertooU to 
ascertain the authentic grounds of a quarrel, and, in some 
eases, to settle it for the timorous or nnskilful. Thus Beau- 
mont and Fletcher : — 

— " Your high offer, 

" Taught by the ma\ters of dependeni:iea. 
That, by compounding diitereiices 'tween others, 
Supply their own necessities, with ine 
Will never carry it." The Elder Brother. 

In this piinitilicius age, all matters relative to duelling were 
arraimed, in set treatises, willi a gravity that, in a business 
less serious, would be infinitely ridiculous. Troops of dis- 
banded soldiers, or rather of such as pretended to be so. 



A drunken brawl, or, to get yon the names 

Of valiant chevnliers, fellows that wi'il be, 

For a cliiak with tlirice-died velvet, and a cast suit, 

Kick'd down the stairs. A knave with half a breech 

there. 
And no shirt (being a thing superfluous, 
And worn out of his memorv), if you bear not 
Yourselves both in, and upright, with a provao 

sword* 
Will slash your scarlets and your plush a new way ; 
Or with the hilts thunder about your ears 
Such music as will make your worships dance 
To the doleful tune of Lachrym<E\. 

Gasp. I must tell you 
In private, as you are my princely friend, 
I do not like such fiddlers. 

Bert. No ! they are useful 
For your imitatioiij ; I remember you, 
When you came first to the court, and talk'd of 

nothing 
But your reiits and your entradas, ever chiming 
Tlie golden bellj^ in yotir pockets ; you believed 
The taking of the wall as a tribute due to 
Your gaudy clothes ; and could not walk at mid- 
night 
Without a causeless quarrel, as if men 
Of coarser outsides were in duty bound 
To suffer your affronts : but when you had been 
Cudgell'd well twice or thrice, and from the doctrine^ 
Made profitable uses, you concluded 
The sovereign means to teach irregular heirs 
Civility, with conformity of manners. 
Were two or three sound beatings. 

Ant. 1 confess 
They did much good upon me. 

Gasp. And on me : 
The principles that they read were sound. 

Bert. You'll find 
The like instructions in the camp. 
Ast. The kino- ! 



look up the " noble science of arm."," and, with the nse ol 
the small sword (then a novelty), taught a jargon respecting 
the various modi s of " honourable quarrelling," which, 
thOU'.;h seemingly calculated to baffle alike the patience and 
the understanding, was a fashionable object ot study. The 
dramatic p'.etj, iHithliil to the nioial end of their high art, 
combated this contagions folly with the united powers of 
wit and humour; and, after a long and >\ell conducted 
struggle, succeeded in rendering it as contemptible as it was 
odious, and tiiially supressed it. 

• • ivith a provant sword, Ac] A 

provant stcord is a pUin, niioinamented sword, such as 
sohliers are supplied with by the stale. Thus, in Exiery 
Man in his Humour, when Master Stephen produces hit 
" pure Toledo," Bobadil exclaims, 

" This a Tnle.lof pish! 

" Steph. Why do ymi pish? 

" Hob. A Fleniiiig, by heaven ! I'll buy them for a guildef 

apiece, an I would liaxe a thousand of them : a pool 

provant rapier ; no better." 

Properly speaking, provant means provisions; thus 
Petillius, in the tragedy t>( Bonduca ; 

" All my company 
Are now in love ; ne'er think of meat, nor talk 
Of what provant is." 
But our old writers extend it to all ihe articles which make 
up the maga7iiies of an army. 

It appears, from the pointing of the fomer editors, that 
they had not the slightest notion of what their author was 
taking. 

♦ To the do/eful tune of Lachrymae.] See the Picture. 

t For your i:iiiiaii')ii ;] Thus the quarto: Mr. M. Mason 
reads. For your initiation; an alteratiou as void of mean- 
ing as ol harmony. 

^ and from the dortrini' 

Made profitable uses, &c.] See The Emperor of the Eati 



Scene I.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



i9t 



A Jloiirish, En(e/- Roberto, Fulgentio, Ambassador, 
and Attendants. 

Eoft. (Ascends the throne.) We sit prepared to hear. 

Amb. Your majesty 
Hatli been long since familiar, I doubt not, 
With the desperate fortunes of my lord ; and pity 
Of the much that your confederate hath sufter'd, 
You being his last refuge, may persuade you 
Not alone to compassionate, but to lend 
Your royal aids to stay him in his fall 
To cerlaiu ruin. He, too late, is conscious 
That his ambition to encroach upon 
His neighbour's territories, with the danger of 
His liberty, nay, his life, hath brought in question 
His own inheritance: but youth, and heat 
Of blood, in your interpretation, may 
Both plead and mediate for him. I must grant it 
An error in him, being denied the favours 
Of the fair princess of Sienna (though 
He sought her in a noble way), to endeavour 
To force affection by surprisal of 
Her principal seat, Sienna. 

Rob. Which now proves 
The seat of his captivity, not triumph : 
Heaven is still just. 

Amb. And yet that justice is 
To be with mercy temper'd, which heaven's deputies 
Stand bound to minister. 'J"he injured duchess, 
By reason taught, as nature, could not, with 
The reparation of her wrongs, but aim ut 
A brave revenge ; and my lord feels, too late. 
That innocence will find friends. The great Gonzaga, 
The iionour of his order (I must praise 
Virtue, though in an enemy), he whose fights 
And conquests hold one number, rallying up 
Her scatter'd troops, before we could get time 
To victual or to man tlie concjuer'd city. 
Sat djwn before it ; and, presuming that 
I'is not to be relieved, admits no parley. 
Our flags of truce hung out in vain : nor will he 
Lend an ear to composition, but exacts. 
With the rendering up the town, the goods and lives 
Of all within the walls, and of all sexes, 
To be at his discretion. 

Rob. Since injustice 
In your duke meets this correction, can you press us, 
With any seeming argument of reason. 
In foolish pity to decline* his dangers, 
To drnw them on ourself ? Shall we not be 
Warn'd by his harms ? The league proclaim'd be- 
tween us 
Bound neither of us further than to aid 
Each other, if by foreign force invaded ; 
And so far in my honour 1 was tied. 
But since, without our counsel, or allowance. 
He hatli ta'en arms; with his good leave, he must 
Excuse us if ^ steer not on a rock 
We see, and may avoid. Let other monarchs 
Contend to be made glorious by proud war, 



• III foolish pity to derline his danyera, 

'Jo (Irair them on ourself!] To declinK, here means to 
divert Hoiii ihi'ir course; in » liicli sense it is trequeiitly 
met »iili in our old poets. Tims Joii>^oii : 

" — — «li<) deitining 

Tlieir way, not able, for the throng, to I'ullow, 
Slijit down tlie Geinonies." Srjanul. 

Again, in his Forat : 

" Tlii> make?, liiat widely yon (icc/ine yonr life 
I''ar from the maze of custom, errour, strife." 



And, with the blood of their poor subjects, purchase 

Increase of empire, and augment their cares 

In keeping that which was by wrongs extorted, 

Gilding unjust invasions with the trim 

Of glorious conijuests ; we, that would be known 

The lather of our jteople, in our study 

And vigihmce for their safety, must not change 

Their ploughshares into swords, and force them ' 

from 
The secure shade of their own vines, to be 
Scorched with the flames of war; or, for our sporti 
Juxpose their lives to ruin. 

Amb. Will vou, then. 
In his extremity, forsake your friend ? 

Rob. No ; but preserve ourself. 

Bert. Cannot the beams 
Of honour thaw your icy fears? 

Rob. Who's that? 

Bert. A kind of brother, sir, howe'eryour subject; 
Your father's son, and one who blushes that 
You are not heir to his brave spirit and vigour, 
As to hisliingdom. 

Rob. How's this ! 

Bert. Sir, to be 
His living chronicle, and to speak his praise, 
Cannot deserve your anger. 

Rob. Where's your warrant 
For this presumption ? 

Bert, ilere, sir, in my heart : 
Let sycophants, that feed upon your favours. 
Style coldness in you caution, and prefer 
Your ease before your honour; and conclude. 
To eat and sleep supinely is the end 
Of human blessings; 1 must tell you, sir. 
Virtue, if not in action, is a vice ; 
And, when we move not forward, we go backward* : 
Nor is this peace, the nurse of drones and cowards, 
Our health, but a disease. 

Giisp. Wt^ll urged, my lord. 

Ant. Perfect what is so well begun. 

Amb. And bind 
My lord your servant. 

Bob. Hair-br<iin'd fool ! what reason 
Canst thou infer, to make this good? 

Bert. A thousand. 
Not to be contradicted. But consider 
WHiere your command liesf : 'tis not, in France, 

- / must tell you, sir, 



Virtue, if not in action, is a vice ; 
And when we move not forward, we yo backward:] ThU 
is a beautiful impiovement on Horace: 

Paulum sepultw distat inertia: 
Celata virtus. 
It is, however, surpassed by the spirited apostrophe of Joa- 
son to himself: 

" Where dost tliou careless lie 
Buiied in ease and sloth J 
Kno»lcd(;e, that sleeps, doth die ; 
And tills security, 

It is the common moth 
That eals on wit and arts, and so destroy them both. 

i/ttderwoods. 
The last line of the text »11udes to the Latin adage : Non 
proyredi est reyredi. 

T But consider 

M'here your command lies: &c. | Davies, I tliink, says, 
that here is an allusion to the affairs of this country under 
James. 

However that may be, it is, at least, certain that the 
aullior, in this animated description, was ihiukini; oi Eng- 
lanil only. Me could scarcely be so ignorant of the n.itural 
liis!or» of Siilly as not lo know how lillle of his deM"iiption 
applie<l to ill il island ; while everv word of it was perleclly 
applicable to this. 



fS8 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



['\or L 



Spain, Germany, Portugiil, but in Sicily ; 

An island, sir. Here are no mines of gold 

Or silver to enrich you ; no worm spins 

Silk in her womb, to make distinction 

Between you and a peasant in your habits ; 

No fish lives near our shores, whose blood can die 

Scarlet or purple ; all that we possess. 

With beasts we have in common : nature did 

Design us to be warriors, and to break through 

Our ring, the sea, by whicli we are environed ; 

And we by force must fetch in what is wanting 

Or precious to us. Add to this, we are 

A populous nation, and increase so fast, 

That, if we by our providence are not sent 

Abroad in colonies, or fall by tlie sword, 

Not Sicily, though now it were more fruitful 

That i^'heii 'twas styled tlie granary of great Rome, 

Can yield our numerous fry biead : we must starve. 

Or eat up one another. 

Ador. Jhe king hears 
With much attention. 

Ast. And seems moved with what • 
Bertoldo hath deliver'il. 

Bert. May \ou live long, sir. 
The king of peace, so you deny not us 
The glory of tiie war ; let not our nerves 
Shrink up with sloth, nor, for want of employment, 
Make younger brothers thieves : it is their swords, 

sir, 
Must *ow and reap their harvest. If examples 
May move you more than ary-uments, look on Ensr- 

land, 
The empress of the European isles. 
And unto wiiom alone ours yields precedence : 
When did she flourish so, as when she was 
The mistress of the ocean, her navies 
Putting a girdle round about the world ; 
When the Iberian quaked, her worthies named; 
And the fair flower-de-luce grew pale, set by 
'I'he red rose and the white? Let not our armour 
Hung up, or our unrigg'd armada, make us 
Ridiculous to the late poor snakes our neighbours, 
Warm'd in our bosoms, and to whom again 
We may be terrible ; while we spend our hours 
Without variety, confined to drink, 
Dice, cards, or whores. Rouse us, sir, from the sleep 
Of idleness, and redeem our mortgaged honours. 
Your bit th, and justly, claims my father's kingdom ; 
But Iiis heroic mind descends to me : 
I will confirm so much. 

Ador. In his looks he seems 
To break ope Janus' temple. 

Ast. How these younglings 
Take fire from liim ! 

Ador. It works an alteration ' 
Upon the king. 

Ant. 1 can forbear no longer : 
War, war, my sovereign ! 

Fid. The king appears 
Resolved, and does prepare to speak. 

Rob. Think not 
Our counsel's built upon so weak a base, 
As to be overtuni'd, or shaken, with 
Tempestuous winds of words. As I, my lord, 
Before resolved you, I will not engage 
My person in this quarrel ; neitlier press 
My subjects to maintain it : yet, to show 
My rule is gentle, and that I have feeling [weary 
O' your master's sufFermgs, since these eallants, 



Of the happiness of peace, desire to taste 
Tiie bitter sweets of war, we do consent 
That, as adventurers and volunteers. 
No way compell'd by us, they may make trial 
Of their boasted valours. 

Bert. We desire no more. 

Rob. 'lis well ; and, but my grant m this, expect 
not 
Assistance from me. Govern as you please 
The province you make choice of; for I vow 
By all things sacred, if that thou miscarry 
In this rash undertaking, I v.ili hear it 
No otherwise than as a sad disaster. 
Fallen on a stranger ; nor will I esteem 
That man my subject, who, in thy extiemes, 
in purse or person aids thee. Take your fortune ; 
You know me ; I have said it. So, my lord. 
You have my absolute* answer. 

Anib. My prince pays 
In me his duty. 

Rob. Follow me, Fulgentio. 
And you, Astutio. 

[^Flourish. Exeunt Roberto, Fulgentio, Astutio, 
and Attendants. 

Gasp. What a frown he threw. 
At his departure, on you ! 

Bert. Let liim keep 
His smiles for his state catamite, I care not. 

Ant. Shall we aboard to-ni'^ht ? 

Amb. Your speed, my lord. 
Doubles the benefit. 

Bert, I have a business 
Requires dispatch ; some two hours hence I'll meet 
you. lEieunt. 



SCENE II. — The same. A Room in Camiola's Home. 

Enter Signior Sylli, walking fantastically , followed hii 
Cajiiola and Clauinda. 

Cam. Nay, signior, this is too much ceremony 
In my own house. 

Syl. What's gracious abroad, 
Must be in private practised. 

Clar. For your mirth's sake 
Let him alone ; he has been all this morning 
In practice with a peruked gentleman-usher, 
To teach him his true amble and his postures, 

[Siflli walking by, and pradisixg his postures 
When he walks before a lady. 

Syl. You may, madam. 
Perhaps, believe that I in this use art. 
To make you dote upon me, by exposing 
My more than most rare features to your vievr ; 
BufI, as 1 have ever done, deal simply ; 
A mark of sweet simplicity, ever noted 
In the family of the Syllis. Therefore, lady. 
Look not with too much contemplaUpn on me ; 
If you do, you are in the suds. 

Cam. You are no barber 1 [drawn 

Syl. Fie, no ! not I ; but my good parts havb 
More loving hearts out of fair ladies' bellies, 
Than the whole trade have done teeth. 

Cam. Is't possible ? 



-So, my lord. 



You have my absoluie answer.} thus the quarto : Coxetei 
and Mr. M. Mason, very correctly as well as metrically 
read, >'»u have my whole amwer .' How little bat bitlicrto 
been seen of Massiiiger! 



SCKNE II.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



129 



Syl. Yes, and they live too ; marry, much con- 
doling 
The scorn of their Narcissus, as they call me 
Because 1 love myself 

Cam. AVitliout a rival. 
What philters or love powders do you use, 
To force aflection ? I see nothing in 
Your person but 1 dare look on, yet keep 
IMy own poor heart still. 

St^l. You are warn'd — be arm'd ; 
And do not lose the hope of such a husband, 
In being too soon enaniour'd. 

Clar. Hold in your head. 
Or 30U must have a inartingal, 

Sul. I have swijvn 
Never to take a wife, but such a one, 

may your ladyshij) |)rove so strong] as can 
Hold out a month against me. 

Cam. Never fear it ; 
Though your best taking part, your wealth, were 
irehled, 

1 would not woo you. But since in your pity 
■^ou pl(^ase to give riie caution, tell me what 
'lemptaiions I must fly from. 

Si^l. The first is, 
That vou never hear me sing, for I'm a syren : 
If vou observe, when I warble, the dogs howl, 
A.s ravisli'd with my ditties ; and you will 
Bnn mad to hear me. 

Cam I will sto[) my ears. 
And keep my little wits. 

•Vi//. Next, when I dance, 
And come aloft thus, cast not a sheep's eye 
Upon the cpiivering of my calf. 

Cam. Proceed, sir. [not 

■Sijl Hut on no terms, for 'tis a main point, dream 
0' th' strength of my back, though it will bear a 

burthen 
With anv [)orter. 

Cam. I mean not to ride vou. 

Sifl. Nor I your little ladyship, till you have 
Perform'd the covenants, lie not taken vi'ith 
Aly pretty spider-fingers, nor my eyes, 
That twinkle on both sides. 

Cam. Was tlitre ever such " 
A piece of motley heard of! [A hioching within. 
Who's that! [Eiit Clarinda.\ You may spare 
The catalogue of my dangers. 

Syt. No, good madam ; 
I have not told you half. 

Cam. Enough, good signior; 
If I eat more of such sweetmeats, I shall surfeit. 

Ite-enler Ci.arinda. 
Who is't? 

Clar. The brother of the king. 

Syl. Nay start not. 
The brother of the king ! is he no more? 
Were it the king himself, I'd give him leave 
To speak his mind to you, for I am not jealous ; 
And, to assure your ladyship of so much, 
I'll usher him in, and that done — hide mvself. 

[Exit. 

Cam. Camiola, if ever, now be constant : 
This is, indeed, a suitor, whose sweet presence 
Courtship, and loving language, would have stag- 

ger'd 
The chaste Penelope ; and to increase 
The wonder, did not modesty forbid it, 

18 



I should ask that from him he sues to me for: 
And yet my reason, like a tyrant, tells me 
I must nor give nor take it*. 

He-enter Sylli uith Bertoldo. 

Syl. I must tell you. 
You lose your labour. Tis enough to prove it, 
Signior Sylli came before you; and you know. 
First come first served ; yet you shall have my 

countenance. 
To parley with her, and I'll take special care 
'J'hat none shall interrupt you. 

Bert. Yonr are courteous. 

SiiL Come, wench, wilt thou hear wisdom ? 

Cbir. Yes, from you, sir. \Thp.[) comerse aside. 

Bert. If forcing this sweet favour fr^m your 
lips, [hiisesher. 

Fair madam, argue me of too much boldness. 
When you are pleased to undnrstaufi I lake 
A parting kiss, if not excuse, at least 
Twill (jualify the offence. 

Cum. A parting kiss, sir ! 
What nation, envious of the iiappiness 
\\ liich Sicily enjoys in your sweet presence, 
Can buy you from her 1 or what climate yield 
Pleasures transcending those which v(.u enjoy here. 
Being both beloved and honnur'd ; the north-star 
And guitler of all hearts ; and, to sum up 
Your full account of happiness in a word. 
The brother of the king ! 

Beit. Do you, alone. 
And with an unexampled cruelty. 
Enforce my absence, and deprive me of 
Those blej-sings which you, with a polish'd phrase, 
Seem to insinuate that 1 do possess. 
And yet tax me as being guilty of 
My wilful exile? What are titles to me, 
Or popular suflrat;e, or my nearness to 
The king in blood, or fruitful Sicilv, 
i hough it confess'd no sovereign but my.self. 
When you, that are the essence of my being, 
'i'he anchor of my hopes, the real substance 
Of mv felicity, in your di>dain 
Turn all to fading and deceiving shadows 1 

Cam. You tax me without cause. 

Bert. You must confess it. 
But answer love with love, and seA the contract 
In the n iting of our souls, how gladly 
(Though now I were in action, and assured. 
Following my fortune, that plumed X'ictory 
\Vould make her glorious stand upon my tent) 
Would I put off my armour, in my heat 
Of concjuest, and, like Antony, jiursue 
My Cleopatra' Will you yet look on me 
With an eve of favour? 

Cam. Truth bear witness for me. 
That, in the judgment of my soul, you are 
A man so absolute, and circular 
In all those wish'd-for rarities that may take 
A virgin cuptive, that, though at this- instant 
All sceptr'd monarchs of our western world 
\Vere rivals with you, and Camiola worthy • 
Of such a competition, you alone 
Should wear the garland. 



• / tnust nor give nor take it.] Tliis nioMe of expression 
■wliicli is very frtqueiit in Masj-inger, i> almost as ire(|uecitly 
changed by Mr. M. Mason into I mutt not yiiM, Sec 



«30 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act I. 



Bert. If so, what diverts 
Your favour from me? 

Cam. No mulct in yourself, 
Or in your person, mind, or fortune. 

Bert. What then? [sir. 

Cum. The consciousness of mine own wants : alas ! 
We are not parallels ; but, like lines divided *, 
Can ne'er meet in one centre. Your birth, sir, 
Without addition, were an ample dowry 
For one of fairer fortunes; and this shape. 
Were you ignoble, far above all vahie : 
To this so clear a mind, so furnish'd with 
Harmonious faculties moulded from heaven, 
Thst though you were Thersites in your features. 
Of no descent, and Irusin your fortujtes, 
Ulysses-like you'd force all eyes and ears 
To love, but seen ; and, when heard, wonder at 
Vour matchless sjory : but all these bound up 
Tog-ether irf one "volume ! — give me leave, 
With admiration to look upon them ; 
But not presume, in my own flattering hopes, 
I may or can enjoy them. 

Bert. How you ruin 
What you would seem to build up ! I know no 
I)isj>arity between us ; you're an heir 
Sprung from a noble family ; fair, rich, young-, 
And every way my equal. 

Cam. Sir, excuse me ; 
One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses 
The eagle and the wrenf : — tissue and frieze 

— alas, sir! 



IVe ure not parallels; but, like lines divided. 
Can ne'er meet in one centre.] Tlils Fceiiis badly ex- 
pressed. Paralltis are the only lines that cannot meet in a 
centre; for all lines divided with any angle towards each 
other, must meet somewhere, if continued both ways. 

COXETER. 

By liiies divided, Massinger does not mean, as the editor 
•npijoses, lines inclined to each other in any angle; but the 
divided parts of the same right line, which never can meet 
in one crnlre. M. Mj^son. 

If Mr. M. Mason tinderstandi his own meaning, it is well; 
that of his .iUthor, I apprehend, he has not alioj^etlier made 
o«t. Our old writers were not, generally speaking, very 
expert mathematicians, and therefore fre(|uenlly confounded 
tile properties of lines and fi;;ures. Not only Massinger, 
but many others who had good means of information, use 
paraltelii (as it seems to me) for radii. Ur- Sacheverell was 
accused hy the wits, or rather whigs, of his day, for speak- 
ing, in his famous University Sermon, of parallel lines that 
met in a centre. The charge appears to be jnst, lor, though 
be changed the expression when the sermon was committed 
to the press, lie retained his conviction of its propiiety : 
" They" (temptations), he says, " are the centre in wliicli 
all our passions terminnte and join, though never so much 
repugnant to each other." 

Ill ihe Pioeme to Herbert's Travels, vihli^h were printed 
not long after The Maid of Honour, a similar expression is 
found : " Great Britalne — contains the summe and abridged 
of all sorts of excellencies, met here like parallels in their 
proper centrt." 

In the life of Dr. H. More (1710) there is a letter to a 
correspondent who had sent him a pious treatise, in which 
the same expression occurs, and is thus noticed by the 
doctor: "There is but one passage that I remember, which 
will artbrd Ihem (the profane and atheistical rout of the age) 
« disingenuous satisf.iction ; which is in p. 4^0, where you 
•ay that straight lines drawn from Ihe centre run parallel 
together. To a candid reader your intended sense can be no 
other than that they run Trap aWqXa^ that is, by one 
•nother; which they may do, though they do not run all 
•lung equidistantly one by another, which is the mathe. 
matical sense of ihe word parallel." See Gent. Mag. May, 
ITS*. The good doctor is, | think, the best critic on the 
•object that has yet appeared, and sufficiently explain! 
Massinger. 
♦ Cam. Sir, excute me; 
One aerie with proportUM Ne'«r dlicloset' ' ' 



In the same garment, monstrous ! But suppose 
That what's in you excessive were diminish 'd. 
And my desert supplied, the stronger bar. 
Religion, stops our entrance : you are, sir, 
A knight of Malta, by your order bound 
To a single life ; you cannot marry me ; 
And, I assure myself, you are too noble 
To seek me, though my frailty should consent. 
In a base path. 

Bert. A dispensation, lady, 
Will easily absolve me. 

Cam. O take heed, sir ! 
When what is vow'd to heaven is dispensed with, 
'i'o serve our ends on earth, a curse inust follow. 
And not a blessing. 

Bert. Is there no hope left me ? 

Cam. Nor to myself, but is a neighbour to 
Impossibility. True love should walk 
On equal feet ; in us it does not, sir ; 
But rest assured, excepting this, I shall be 
Devoted to your service. 

Bert. And this is your 
Determinate sentence? 

Cum. Not to be revoked. 

Bert. Farewell then, fairest cruel ! all thought* 
in me 
Of women perish. Let the glorious light 
Of noble war extinguish Love's dim tapet-*, 
That only lends me light to see my folly : 
Honour, be thou my ever-living mistress. 
And fond afl'eciion, as thy bond-slave, serve thee ? 

[Exit 

Cam. How soon mj' sun is set, he being absent, 
Never to rise aj;ain ! What a fierce battle 
Is fought between my passions ! — methinks 
We should have kiss'd at parting. 

Sijl. 1 perceive 
He has his answer : now must I step in 
To comfort her. You have found, I hope, sweet 

lady. 
Some difference between a youth of my pitch, 
And this bugbe-ir Bertoldo ; men are men, 



Tfie eagle and the'xcren .•— 1 The modern editors read Qnt 
airy with proportion, &c. Upon which Coxeler observe!, 
that " the passage is somewhat dithcult." It means, liow- 
ever, he adds, "that om- who is piitl'ed up with an high op^ 
nion of his birth (i.e. airy viith proportion), \\\\\ never sloop 
so low as Bertoldo must, to marry Camiola !" 'I'o this M». 
M. Mason s;il)joins, that for discloses we should read encloses, 
and that the ineanin:: is, " ilie airy that is fit for an eagle 
cannot be equally tit for a wren!" poor Coxeter's blunder 
is sutlicicnily licliciilous : bui did not Mr. M. Mason, who 
tells H8, in a note, of the absolute necessity of consulting and 
comparing contemporary authors, recollect those heaulifu) 
lines of Shakspeare ! 

" Anon, as patient as the female dove. 
Ere liiat her gol len couplets are disclosied. 
His silence will sit drooping." Hamlet. 

Disclose, in short, is constantly used by our old wrilero for 
hatch, as aerie is, for the nest of any bird of prey : and tbe 
meaning of this "somewhat difliciilt passage" nothini^ more, 
than that eagles and wrens are loo disproportion.itc in bulk 
to be hatched in the same n/'«^ 

* f^et the glorious light 

Of nob/e war extinguish Love's i\im taper,] SothcqOarto: 
for which fine line the modern edilors give ns, 

— — Let the gloriouf light 

Of noble war extinguish /,ove's divine taper f 
It seems strange ihai no want of harmony in the metre, n* 
defect of sense in t- e e\pre.«sion, could everroiise them inttt 
a suspicion of iheir iii.icciiracy. I have not, however, 
pointed out every error to the reader: in what has already 
pant of this act, the old reading has been silently i est oi-ed-«n 
numerouk instance!. 



StEst. n.] 



THE MAID OF IIOVOIR. 



<3i 



The kiris^'s brother is no more ; n:oocl parts will do it, 
Wlien titles fiiii. Despair not; I may be 
In time entreated. 

Cam. lie so now, to leave me. 
Lights for mv ciiamber. O mv heart ! 

[_ExeuiU Camiola and Clarinda. 



Sql. She now, 
I know, is goin^ to bed to ruminate 
\\ bicli way to o|ut herself upon my jjerson ; 
Hut. for my oatii's sake, 1 will keep her hungrj. 
And, to grow full myself, I'll straight— to sujiper. 

iEiit. 



ACT II. 



SCK3VE l.—The same. A Room in the Palace. 
Eater RonEtiTO, Fulgentio, and Astutio. 

Unb. Embark 'd to night, do you say? 

Fid. I saw him aboard, sir. 

lioh. And witiiout taking of his leave! 

Asc. 'Twas strange ! 

Uoh. Are we grown so contemptible ? 

Fui. 'lis far 
From me, sir, to add fuel to your anger. 
That in your ill opinion of him, burns 
Too hot already ; else I should affirm 
It was a gross neglect. 

/?()/). A wilful scorn 
Of duty and allegiance; you give it 
Too fair a name. But we shall think on't ; can you 
Guess what the numbers were that follow'd him 
In liis desperate action? 

Ftil. More than you thinlf, sir. 
All ill-affected spirits in Palermo, 
Or to your government or person, with 
The turbulent swordsmen, such whose poverty 

forced them 
To wi>h a change, are gone along with him ; 
Creatures devoted to his undertakings. 
In right or wrong : and to express their zeal 
And readiness to serve him, ere they went, 
Profanely took the sacrament on their knees, 
1 o livr and die with him. 

Uoh. O most impious ! 
Their loyalty to us forgot? 

Ful. I fear so. 

Ast. Unthankful as they are ' 

Ful. Yet this deserves not 
One troubled thought in you, sir ; with your pardon, 
I hold tiiat their remove from hence makes more 
For your security than danger, " 

Boh. True ; 
And, as I'll fashion it, they shall feel it too. 
Astutio, you shall presently be dispatch'd 
With letters writ and sign'd witli our own band, 
To the duchess of Sienna, in excuse 
Of these forces sent against her. If you spare 
An oath, to give it credit*, that we never 
Consented to it ; swearing for the king, 
Though false, it is no perjury. 

-// you spare 



An nafh, to give it credit, <SiC.] This detestable doctrine 
is niiuuithy uf llie king, who has hitherto conducted liiinself 
with propriety, ami preserved some degree of interest with 
tlie reader. Massiuger, however, has laken siifticient care 
tu disclose his own ideas of such pernicious tenets, which, I 
hope, were never fashionable, by the ridicule which lie 
dexterously flings over them ill the Kubsequent speeches. 



Ast. I know it. 
They are not fit to be state agents, sir, 
That, without scruple of their conscience, canaol 
lie prodigal in such trifles. 

Fill. Riglit, Astutio. 

Rtib. You must, beside, from us take some In- 
structions, 
To be imparted, as you judge them useful, 
To the general Uonzaga. Instantly 
Prepare you for vour journey. 

Ast. With the wings 
Of loyalty and duty. fErtt, 

Fill. I am bold 
To {)ut your majesty in mind 

Hob. Of my promise. 
And aids, to further you in your amorous project 
To the fair and rich Camiola : there's my ring ; 
Whatever you shall sav that I entreat. 
Or can command by power, I will make good. » 

Ful. Ever your majesty's creature. 

Roh. Venus prove 
Propitious to you ! f Ejrtf, 

Ful. All sorts to my wishes ; 
Bertoldo wasnnv hindrance : he removed, 
I now will court her in the conqueror's style ; 
Come, see, and overcome. Boy ! 

Enter Page. 

Page. Sir : your pleasure ? 

Fill. Haste to Camiola ; bid her prepare 
An entertainment suitable to a fortune 
She could not hope for. Tell her, I vouchsafe 
To honour her with a visit. 

I'lige. 'Tis a fav«^ 
Will make hi-r ])roiiv. 

Ful. I know it. 

Page. I am gone, sir, [Eitt. 

Ful. Entreaties fit not me ; a man in grace 
May challenge awe and privilege, by his pldce. 



SCENE II. — The same. A Room in Camiola's Hiuu 

Enter Adorni, Svlu, and Clabinda. 

Ador. So melancholy, say you • 

CL'V. Never given 
To such retirement. 

Ador. Can you guess the causft' 

Clar. If it hiith not its birth and being from 
The brave Bertoldo's absence, I coufeu 
'Tis past my apprehension. 

Syl. You are wide. 



«s» 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Af.T II. 



The whole field wide*. I, in my understanding, 
Pity your ijrnorance ; — yet, if you will 
Swear to conceal it, I will let you know- 
Where her shoe wrintrs her. 

Cl'ir, I vow, signior, 
By my virginity. 

Sul- A perilous oath, 
In a waitinofwoman of fifteen ! and is, indeed, 
A kind ofnotliing. 

Ador- I'll take one of something, 
If you please to minister it, 

Sitl- Nay, you shidl not swear : 
1 hail rather take your word ; for, should you vow, 
D — n me. I'll do this ! — you are sure to break. 

Ador. 1 tiiank you, signior ; but resolve us. 

Syl. Know, tlinn, 
Here walks the cause. She dares not look upon me ; 
Mv beauties are so terrible and enchanting, 
She cannot endure my si^■ht. 

Ador. 'I'here I believe you. 

Syl. But the time will come, be comforted, when 
I will 
Put off this vizor of unkindness to her. 
And sliow an amorous and yielding face : 
And, until then, tiiough Hercules himself 
Desire to see her, he had better eat 
His club, than pass her threshold ; for I will he 
Her Cerberus to guard her. 

Ador. A good dog ! 

Clar. Worth twenty porters. 

Enter Page. 

Page. Keep you open house here ? 
No groom to attend a gentleman ! O, I spy one. 

Si^l. He means not i)ie, I am sure. 

Page. Vou, sirrah shee])'s-head, 
With a face cut on a cat-stick, do you hear"! 
You yeoman fewtererf, conduct me to 
The lady of the mansion, or my poniard 
Shall disembogue tliy soul. 

Sul. O terrible ! 
Disembogue ! I talk'd of Hercules, and here is one 
Bound up in decimo seilol, 

Pujie. Answer, wretch. 

Sul. Pray you, little gentleman, be not so furious ; 
Tlie l.idy keeps her chamber. 

Page. And we present! 
Sent in an embassy to her ! but here is 
Her gentlewoman : sirrah ! hold my cloak, 
While 1 take a leap at her lips^ do it, and neatly ; 
Or, having first tripp'd up thy heels, I'll m;ike 
Thy back my footstool. [7lisses Clmmda. 

Siyl. Tamberlane in little! 
Ami turn'd Turk§ ! What an office am I put to ! 

Clar. My lady, gentle youth, is indisposed. 



* The whole field wide.} This liemistich is dropt by Mr. 
M. Masim : it sigiiilies liille th^it the measure of two lines is 
ipoileil by his ne!;ligence, for, as he modestly Siiys of his 
cdilion, " co^rectne^s is the only iiitril it preieods to." The 
expression, however Signior S>lli picUeil it up, is a Latin- 
ism : Emit, tota via aberras. 

t You yeoman fewterer,] See The Picture. 

\ / talli'd of Hercules, and here is one 

Bound up in deciino se\io.] We have already had this 
expression appVied to a p.igc in The Unnatural Combat, Act 
III., t-c. ii. Indeed, noautlior, wilhwliom I am acquainted, 
repeats himself so frequently, and with so little ceremony, 
an Massinger. 

> Am J turn'd Turk!] Alluding to the story of Tamber- 
lane, who is sai<l to have mounted his horse Irom the back 
»r Bajaiet, the TurkJiU Emperor. To turn Turk is an ex- 



Page. Though she were dead and buried, only tell 
her, 
The great man in the court, the brave Fulgentio, 
Descends to visit her, and it will raise her 
Out of the grave for joy. 

Enter Fulgentio. 

Si//. Here comes another ! 
The devil, 1 fear, m his holiday clothes. 

Page. So soon I 
My part is at an end then. Cover my shoulders ; 
When 1 grow great, thou shalt serve me. 

Fill. Are you, sirrah, [To 5i///i. 

An implement of the house? 

Sul. Sure he will makii 
A joint stool of me '. 

Fill. Or, if vou belong [To Adwiii. 

To the lady of the place, command her hither. 

Ador. 1 do not wear her livery, yet acknowledge 
A duty to her ; and as little bound 
To serve your peremptory will, as she is 
To obey your .-ummoiis. 'J'will become yoit, sir, 
To wail her leisure ; then, her pleasure known, 
You may present your duty. 

Fnl. Duty ! Slave, 
I'll teach you manners. 

Ador. I'm jrast learning ; make not 
A tumult in the house. 

Fill. Shall I be brav'd thus 1 [They dratr, 

Syl. 0, I am dead ! and now I swoon. 

[Fulls on his face. 

Clar. Help ! murder ! 

Page. Recover, sirrah ; the lady's here. 

Enter Camiola. 

Svl. Nay, then 
I arn alive again, and I'll be valiant. [Riies, 

Cam. What insolence is this? Adorni, hold, 
Hold, I command you. 

Ful. Saucy groom ! 

Cum. Not so, sir ; 
However, in his life, he had dependence ■ 
Upon my father, he's a gentleman 
As well born as yourself*. Put on your Lat. 

Fill. In my presence without leave 1 

6'i//. He has mine, madam. [guage, 

Cum. And I must tell you, sir, and in plain lan- 
Howe'er your glittering outside promise gentry. 
The rudeness of your carriaoe and behaviour 
Speaks you a coarser thing. 

Syl. She means a clown, sir ; 
I am her interpreter, for want of a better. [you 

Cam. I am a queen in mine own house ; nor mast 
Expect an empire here. 

Syl. Sure 1 must love her 
Before the day, the pretty soul's so valiant. [me ? 

Cam. What are you? and what would you with 

Ful. Proud one. 
When you know what I am, and what I came for, 
And may on your submission, proceed to, 
You in your reason must repent the coarseness 
Of mv entertainment. 



pression frequently c«ed to imply a change of silnalion, oe- 

cupalion, mode of thought or action. See The Jienei/ad0 

Act v., sc. iii. 

* He's b gentleman 

As well born as yourself.l This is the second passage, in 

the compass of luile more than a page, which i^ wholly 

omitted by Mr. M. MasonI 



Scene II.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



933 



Cam. Wliy, fine man ? whiit are you ? 

Fill. A kinsman of tlie king's. 

Cam. I cry you mtrcy, 
For liis s:ike, not your own. But, grant you are so, 
'Tis not impossible but a king may have 
A fool to his kinsman, — no way meaning you, sir. 

Ful. You have heard of Fulgentio ? 

Cam. Long since, sir ; 
A suit-broker in court. He has the worst 
Report anion g good men, I ever heard of, 
For br.berv and exiortion : in t)ieir ])rayers, 
Widows and orphans curse him for a canker 
And caterpdlar in the state. I hope, sir, 
You are not the man ; much less employ 'd by him, 
As a smock agent to me. 

Fill. I reply not 
As you deserve, being assured you know me ; 
Pretending ignorance of my person, only [courtly ; 
To give me a taste of your wit: 'tis well, and 
I like a sharp wit well. 

Si^l I cannot endure it ; 
Nor any ot the SvUis. 

Fid. iMore ; I know too, 
This harsh induction must serve as a foil 
To the well-tuned observance and respect 
You will hereafter pay me, being made 
Familiar with my credit with the king. 
And that (contain your joy) I deign to love you 

Cam. Love me ! 1 am not ra[)t with it. 

FtiL. Hear't again : 
I love you hone>tly : now you admire me. 

Cum. I do, indeed : it being a word so seldom 
Heard from a courtier's mouth. But, pray you, 

deal plainly. 
Since you find me simple ;wha». might be the motives 
Inducing you to leave the freedom of 
A bachelor's life, on your so*'t neck to wear 
The stubborn yoke of marriage; and, of ail 
The beauties in Palermo, to choose me. 
Poor me. ! tliat is tjie main point you mus| treat of. 

Flit. Why, I will tell you. Ot'a little thing, 
You are a pretty peat*, indifferent lair, too ; 
And, like a new-rigg'd ship, both tight and yare, 
Well truss'd to bear : virgins of giant size 
Are sluggards at the sport ; but for my jileasure. 
Give me a neat well-timber'd gamester like you ; 
Such need no spurs, — the quickness of your eye 
Assures an active spirit. 

Cam. You are pleasant, sir ; 
Yet 1 presume that there was one thing in me 
Unmention'd yet, that took you more than all 
Those parts vou have remember'd. 

Ful. What? 

Cam. Wy wealth, sir. 

Fid. You are in the right ; without that beauty is 
A flower worn in the morning, at night trod on : 
But beauty, youth, and fortune, meeiing in you, 
I will vouchsafe to marry you. 

Cam. You speak well ; 
And, in return, excuse me, sir, if I 
Deliver reasons why, upon no terms, 
I'll marry yim ; I fable not. 

Syl. I am glad 
To hear this ; I began to have an ague 

Fid. Come, j'our wise reasons. 



• Yim are a pretty peat,] For peat tl\e inoilern editors 
arc pltMsfd lo yive us piece; a colloiiiiial baibarisia of our 
own tiiiiea. 



Ccm. Such as they are, pray you take them : 
First. I iim douhtful whether you are a maUj 
Since, for your shape, trimm'd up in a lady's dressing, 
\ on miglit pass for a woman ; now I love 
'l"o deal on certainties : and, for the fairness , 
Of your complexion, which you think will take me, 
The colour, I must te 1 you, in a man 
Is weak and faint, and never will hold out, 
If put to labour : give me the lovely brown, '" 
A thick curl'd hair of the same die, broad shoulders, 
A brawny arm full of veins, a leg without 
An artificial calf; — I suspect yours ; 
Hut let that pass. 

Sitl. She means me all this while. 
For 1 have every one of those good parts, 

Sylli! fortunate Sylli ! 
Cum. You are moved, sir. 
Ful. Fie ! no ; go on. 

Cam. Then, as vou area courtier, 
A graced one too, I fear you have been too forward ; 
Anil so much for your person. Rich you are, 
Devilish rich, as tis rep:)rted, and sure have 
The aids of Satan's little fiends to get it ; 
And what is got u])on his back, must be 
Spent you know where; — the proverb's stale. 

One word more. 
And I have done. 

Ful. I'll ease vou of the trouble, 
Coy and disdaint'ul ! 

Cum. Save me, or else he'll beat me. [put me 

Ful. No, your own folly shall ; and, since ycfi 
To my last charm, look upon this, and tremble. 

[Shows the king's ring 

Cam. At the sight of a fair ring ! The knig's, 1 
take it? 

1 have seen him wear the like : if he hath sent it 
As afavnur to me — '■ — 

Ful. Ves, 'lis very likely ; 
His dying mother's gift, prized at his crown: 
By this he does command you to be mine ; 
By his gift you are so : — vou may yet redeem all. 

Cam. Vou are in a wrong account still. Though 
the king may 
Dispose of my life and goods, mv mind's mine own, 
And_ never shall be j'our's. 'I'iie king heaven bless 
Is good and gracious, and, being in himself [him 
Abstemious from base and goatish looseness. 
Will not compel, against their wills, chaste maidens 
'l"o dance in his minion's circles. 1 believe. 
Forgetting it when he wash'd his hands, you stole it 
With an intent to awe me. But you are cozeii'd ; 
I am still mvself, and will be. 

Ful. A proud haggard. 
And not to be reclaiin'd ! which of your grooms, 
^ our coachma'i, fool, or footman, ministers 
Night-physic to you ? 

Cam. ^'ou are foul-mouth'd. 

Ful. iMucli fairer 
Than thy black soul ; and so I will proclaim thee. 

Cam. Were I a man, thou durst not speak this. 

Ful. Heaven 
So prosper me, as I lesolve to do it 
To all men, and in every place ; — scorn 'd by 
A tit of ten-pence! [Exeunt Fulgentio and Pagt, 

Syl. Now 1 begin to be valiant: 
Nay, I will draw my sword. O for a brother*! 

O for a butcher I 



Do a friend's part, &c. , This is a true picture of a r6|t. 



S34 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act II 



Do a friend's part; pray you, carry Lira the length, 

oft. 
I give him three years and a day to match my Toledo 
And tncn we'll figiithke dragons. 

Ador. Prav, have patience, 

<'aOT. I may live to have vengeance: my Bertoldo 
Would not have heard this. 

Ador. Madam, 

Cant. Pray you, spare 
Your language. Prithee fool, and make me merry*. 

Sill, 'i'hat is my office ever. 

Ador. 1 must do, 
Not talk ; this glorious gallant shall hear from me. 

\^Eieuut. 

SCENE m.-The Sienneset. A Camp Ix fore the 
Walls o/' Sienna. 

Chambers shot off: a Flourish as tn an Assuiilt : after 
which, enter Gonzaga, Piekio, IIodeuigo, Jacomo, 
and Soldiers. 

Goni, Ts the breach made assaultable ? 

Pier. Yes, and the moat 
Fill'd up ; the cannoneer hath done his parts ; 
We may enter six abreast. 

Rod. 'I'here's not a man 
Dares show himself upon the wall. 

Jac, Defeat not 
The soldiers' hoped-for spoil. 

Pier, If you, sir, 
Delay tiie assault, and the city be given up 



Nothing conld be more abjectly fearful than this oiir 
brav.iilo, when in <lan!;er: but, now his enemy is »;one, lie 
swaggers about most conragtoiisly. IVow I beyin to be 
valiant : nay, I will draw my sword. () for a butcbtr! 
Tlie bloody iTiiil temper of one — Coxetkk. 

O for a butcher!] it is impossible th.ii ibe words should 
convey tlie sense tiial the editor altiibules to iheni. It is a 
dilhoidt pa»8.ii;e, and my conjeciuie may possibly be errone- 
ous, but 1 sboidd read it llms :— 

A'«y. / will draw my sword: O for a bout ! Here, 
Do a friend's part, iVtc. — M. M \son. 

Sylli is no fop, but a fool: one of lliose characters which 
tlie andii'iices of Masfins;er's lime looked for in every piece 
that c.ime before tliem. By fool, 1 do not mean siicb a>-aie 
foniiil in .Sliakspeare, compounds of archness, knavery, 
petulance, and licenlioiiiness, inlinitely diversilied (for to 
the proilnction of such our poet was not e(|iial), but a lianii- 
less ^illlplelon, whose vanity is too puerile and cowardice 
too abject, to excite in our timts eitber interest or mirth : — 
for the rest, nothing can be more contemptible than the 
jargon of Coxeter on his own erroneous reading. I have 
Consulted all the copies to which I had access, and they 
concur in reading, O for a brother I (with the single excep- 
tion, indeed, of Mr. Malone's, which reads Imtcher), i. e. a 
brother in arms (I suppose to do what he immediiitely after 
teiiticsts Adorni to do tor him), a common expression at the 
time, and well nnderslood by Massiiiger's au<lieiice. The 
grave remark of Mr. M. Mason on the spurious rea<ting (if 
Coxeter is truly ridiculous. Why did he not examine the 
old copies ! 

• (!ani. Pray you. spare 

Your lanijuaije. Prithee, fool, and make me merry ] i. e. 
play the fool. An explanation that wonld have been wholly 
unnecessary, if tlie inoflern editors lia<l not mistaken the 
sense, ahd ilierefi>re altered the passajje. They read, in 
despite of the inetie. 

Pray yon ipare 

Your lamittoye Prithie fool, and make me merry. 

t The Sienne.-e. &c.] Here, as in 'J'he Duke of .Milan, 
Coxeter attempted lo particularize the place of action, but 
with as liitle success as before. He reads, 'I'he Castle at 
Sienna ; this, .lowever, was in the hands of the diike of 
Urbin ; while (Jonzaga and his army are described as l^ing 
encamped before the walls of the town ; which they are 
now preparing to assault. The castle of Sienna, if caslle it 
uinst be, should be placed at the head of the next scene. 
Mr. M. Mason copies all these absurdities, as usual. 



To your di.scretion, you in honour cannot 
Use the pxtrentttv of war, — but, in 
Compassion to thfm, yon to us prove cruel 

Jac. And an cneiny to yourself. 

Ihid. A hiiidrance to 
The brave revenge you have vow'd. 

Goni. Temper your Iieat, 
And lose not, by too sudden rashness, that 
Which, be but patit-nt, will be offer'd to you. 
Security ushers ruin ; proud contempt 
Of an en^rny three parts vanquish'd, with desire 
And greediness of spoil, have often wrested 
A certain victory from the conqtieror's gripe. 
Discretion is the tutor of the war. 
Valour the pupil : and, when we command 
With lenity, and our direction's follow 'd 
With cheerfulness, a prosperous end must crown 
Our works well undertaken. 

Bod. (Jurs are finish'd 

Pier. If we make use of fortune. 

Gonz. Her false smiles 
Deprive you of your judgments. Ti)e conditioa 
Of our affairs exacts a double care, 
.4n(l, like bifronted .lanus, we must look 
Backward, as forward : though a flattering calm 
Bids us urge on, a sudden tempest raised. 
Not feared, much less expected, in our rear 
May fonllv fall upon us, and distract us 
To our confusion. 

Enter a Scout. 

Our scout ! what brings 
Thy ghastly looks, and sudden speed? 

Scout. The assurance 
Of a new enemy. 

Gonz. This 1 foresaw and fear'd. 
What are tliev, know'st thou? 

Scout. They are, by their colours, 
Sicilians, bravely mounted, and the brightness 
Of their rich armours doubly gilded with 
Reflection of the sun. 

Gonz. From Sicily? 

The king in league ! no war proclaim'd ! 'tis foul • 
But this must he prevented, not dis|)uted 
Ila! how is this? yotir estridge* plumes, that but 
Even now, like quills of porcupines, seem'd to 

threaten 
The stars, drop at the rumour of a shower. 
And. like to captive colours, sweep the earth ! 
Bear up ; but in great dangers, greater jniiuls 
Are never proud. Sliall a few loose troops, un- 
But in a customary ostentation, [trained 

Presented as a sacrifice to your valours. 
Cause a dejection in you ? 

Pier. No dejection. [low. 

Bod. Howevw startled, where you lead we'll fol- 

Gonz. 'lis bravely said. We will not stay their 
charge. 
But meet them man to man, and horse to horse. 
Pierio, in our absence hold our place, 
Atid with our foot men, and those sickly troops. 
Prevent a sally. I in mine own person. 
With part of the cavalleryf. ^vill bid 

• your estridge phime.t, &c. I For 

estridye {\\e moiierii editions read ostrich: — but this is not 
the only capricious alteration which they have introduced 
into this beaiilifid sieech. 

t H ilh part of the cavalleiy,! So it must be spelt, and so 
the quarto spells it : the modern editions have cavalry. 



gCBN'K v.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



«35 



These hunters welcome to a bloody breakfast : 
But I lose lime. 

Pier. I'll to my charge. [Exit. 

Gnnz. And we • 

To ours : I'll brino; vou on. 

Jac. If we come off, 
It's not amiss ; if not, my state is settled. 

\^Exeunt. Alarum within. 



SCENE 1\.— The same. The Citadel of Sienna. 
Enter Feudinand, Druso, and Livio, on the Walls. 

Fer. No aids from Sicily ! Ilath hope forsook us ; 
And tliat vain comfort to affliction, pity. 
By our vow'd iViend denied us ? we can nor live 
Nor die with lionopr : like beasts in a toil, 
We wait the leisure of the bloody hunter, 
Who is not so far reconcil'd unto us. 
As in one death to give a period 
To our calamities ; but in delaying 
The fate we munot fly from, starved with wants, 
We die tliis nis^lit, to live again to-morrow. 
And sufter greater torments. 

Dm. '1 here is not 
Three days' ])rQvision for every soldier, 
At an ounce of bread a day, left in the city. 

Liv. To die tlie be<;gar's death, with hunger made 
Anatomies while we live, cannot but crack 
Our heart-strings witli vexation. . 

Fer. Would tliey would break, 
Break alto<;elher ! How willin-jly, like Cato, 
Could I tear out mv bowels, rather than 
Look on the conqueror's insulting face ; 
But that reliijioa ', and the horrid dream 
To be suflVr'd in tiie other world, denies it ! 

Enter a Soldier. 

What news with thee 1 

Sol. From the turret of the fort, 
By the rising clouds of dust, through which, like 

lightning, 
The sjdendour of bright arms sometimes brake t 

through, 
I did descry some forces making towards us ; 
And, from the camp, as emulous of their ^lory, 
The general (for I know him by his horse), 
And bravely seconded, encounter'd them. 
Their greetings were too rough for friends ; their 

swords. 
And not their tongues, exchanging courtesies. 
By this the main battalias are joinM ; 
And, if you please to be spectators of 
The horrid issue, I will bring you where. 
As in a theatre, yon may see their^fates 
In purple gore presented. 

Fer. I leaven, if yet 
Thou art ajipeased for my wrong done to Aurelia, 
'"ake pitv of my miseries ! Lead the way, friend. 

[Exeunt. 



which h not metre, nor asiy thing like metre. The oM 
expression is neither iiiconect, nor iiiicommoii, as I couUI 
easily ^h(>w, it' it were at al! neeessary. 

• Btif that re'ic/inn] Here IMa^'iiiger had Hamlet in 
view — bit has impiuved Iiis senlinipiits. 

t The sijlendour of brhiht arms souetimrs brake thrniu/h,] 
Both Ciiiettr ami Mr. M. Mason corrupt brake into break, 
though ii be arrant nonsense! 



Sc«NE V. The same. A Plain near the Camp. 

A long Charge : after which, a Flourish for victorif , 
then enter Gonzaga, Jacomo, and lionERir.o, 
wounded ; Bertoldo, Gaspauo, and Antonio, 
Prisoners. 

Gonz. We have them yet, though they cost us 
dear. This was [selves 

Charged home, and bravely foUow'd. Be to your- 
[To Jacomo and Roderigo. 
True mirrors to each other's worth ; and looking 
With noble emulation on Iiis wounds, 
The glorious livery of trinmpliant war. 
Imagine these with equal grace appear 
Uyon yourselves. The bloody sweat you have suf- 

fer'd 
In this laborious, nay, toilsome harvest. 
Yields a rich crop of conquest : and the spoil, 
Most precious balsam to a soldier's hurts. 
Will ease and cure ihem. Let me look u])on 

[Gasparo and Antonio hrouu^ht fo'-uard. 
The prisoners' faces. Oh, how much transt'orm'd 
From what they were I O Mars ! were these toys 

fashion d 
To undergo the burthen of thy service? 
The weight of their defensive armour braised 
'i heir weak effeminate limbs, and would have forced 

thein. 
In a hot day, without a blow to yield. 

Ant. This insultation shows not manly in you. 

Gonz, To men 1 liad forborne it ; vou are women, 
Or, at the best, loose carpel-knights*. W iiat fury 
Seduced you to exchange your ease in court 
Fer labour in the field ? perhaps, vou thought 
To charge, through dust and blood, an, armed foe, 
Was but like graceful rtinning at the ring 
For a wanton mistress' glove ; and the encounter, 
A soft impression on her lips : but \ou 
Are gaudy butterflies, and 1 wrong myself 
In parling witli you. 

Gasp. Vte victis! now we ])rove it. 

Rod. But here's one fashion'd in aiiother mould. 
And made of toucher metal. 



• you are women. 

Or, at the best, /oose car|>et-knii;lit.«.l Carpet kn'yhts, a 
term of contempt very frequently n«eil by mir ulil wiiiers 
were such as uere niafle on occasinn ot public le-livities, 
marriages, births, &c.in contradistinction to those (li.it were 
created on the field of bailie ailer a victory. Tiny vveie 
naturally little regarded by the liuer; and,' indeed, their 
tiile had long been given, in scoin, to etteminaie cc.nriiers, 
favouiitcs, &.C. To confine, as some do, the rxpre-sion to 
tlie knights made by James 1. is evidently erroneous; 
since il was in use, and in the opprobiioiis sen-eof tl^e text, 
before he was born. I hope il will not lie thoiiglit that I 
have loaded the page with snpcrtlnons qiiol,)iioii>, whieli it 
has been my chief study to avoid : — there i-^, liowwer, so 
beautiful a passage in Fletcher's /'"air Afaid of the Inn, 
lliat, as it is not altogether irrelevant to the subject, i rai>- 
not resist the pleasure of transcribing it : 
" Oh the brave dames 
Of wiilike Genoa ! they had eyes to see 
Tlie inward man; and only Irom his worth. 
Courage and conqwsts, the blind archer knew 
To he d his sh d'ls, or light his qiienclied toich ; 
They were proof against him else I o caipet-lm'ykt. 
That spent h's youth in gioves or phvis.uit bowers, 
Or stretching on a' couch his lazy limbs, 
Sung to his lute such soil and plea-iiig iiotes 
As Ovi'l nor Anactemi ever knew. 
Could work on them, nor once bewitch'd their sense, 
Though he came so perfumed, as he had robb'd 
Sabca or Arabia of their wealth, 
And stored it in one suit" 



«36 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act III. 



Gims. True ; I oive liim 
For tliis wound bravely given. 

Bert. O rliat mountains 
Were hfap'd u])on me, that I might expire 
A wretcli n," more reiiiember'd I 

Gonz. Look up, sir ; 
To be o'ercome deserves no shame. If you 
Had fallen iiiglorionsly, or could accuse 
Your want of courage in resistunce, 'twere 
To be lamented : but, since you ]>erform'd 
As much as could be lioped for from a man 
(Fortune his enemy), you wrong yourself 
In this dejection. I am honour'd in 
My victory over you ; but to have these 
My prisoners, is, in my true judgment, rather 
Captivify than a triumj)h : you sh;ill find 
Fair quarter from me, and vour many wounds. 
Which I hope are not mortal, witii such care 
Look'd to and cured, as if your nearest friend 
Attended on )ou. 

Bert. When von know me better. 
You will make void this promise :. can you call me 
Into your memory f 

Gonz. The brave Berloldo ! 
A brother of our order ! J5y St. John, 
Our holy patron, 1 am more amazed. 
Nay, thunderstruck with thy ajjostacy. 
And preci|)ice from the most solemn vows 
Made unto heaven, when this, the glirious badge 
Of our Redeemer, was conferr'd upon thee 
By the great muster, than if I liad seen 
A reprobate .lew, an atheist, Turk, or J'artar, 
Baptized in our religion ! 

Bert. I his 1 look'd for ; 
And am resolved to suH'er. 

Gonz. Fellow-soldiers, 
Behold this man, and, taught by bis example, 
Kaow tha: 'lis safer far to play 'with lightining, 



Than trifle in things sacred. In my rage \_Weept 

I shed these at the funeral of his virtue, 

Faith, and religion : — Why, I will tell vou ; 

He was a gentleman so train'd up and fashion 'd 

For noble uses, and l)i? youth did promise 

Such certainties, more than hopes, of great achieve* 

ments, 
As — if the Christian world bad stood opposed 
Against the Othoman race, to try the fortune 
Of one encounter, this Bertoldo had been, 
For his knowledge to direct, and matchless courag 
'I'o execute, without a rival, by 
'I he votes of good men, chosen general, 
As the prime soldier, and most deserving 
Of all tliat wear the cross ; which now, injustice, 
I thus tear from him. 

Bert. Let me die with it 
Upon mv breast. 

Gonz. No ; by this thou wert sworn, 
On all occasions, as a knight, to guard 
Weak ladies from oppression, and never 
'l"o draw thy sword against them ; whereas thou, 
In liope of gain or glory, when a jirincess, 
And such a princess as Aureha is, 
Was dispossess'd by violence, of what was 
Her true inheritance ; against thine oath 
Hast, to thy uppermost, labour'd to uphold 
Her falling enemy. But thou shalt pay 
A heavy forfeiture, and learn too laie. 
Valour employ'd in an ill quairel, turns 
To cowardice, and Virtue then puts on 
Foul Vice's visor." This is that which cancels 
All friendship's bands between us. — Bear them off; 
I wi.l hear no rejily : and let theransome 
Of these, for they are yours, be highly rated. 
In this 1 do but right, and let it be 
Styled justice, and not wilful cruelty. [_Exeunt, 



ACT III. 



Scene I. — The same. A Camp he/ore the IVaiU of 
Sienna. 

Enter Gonzaga, Astitio, Roderico, and Jacomo. 

Gons. What I liave done, sir, ty the law of arms 
I can and will make good. 

Asl. 1 have no commission 
To expostulate the act. These letters speak 
The king my master's love to you, and his 
Vow'd service to the duchess, on whose pe 
I am to give attendance. 

Gonz. At this instant, 
She's at Fienza* : you may spare the trouble 
Of riding thither; 1 have advertised her 
Of our success, and on what humble terms 
Sienna stands : though jiresently 1 can 
Possess it, 1 defer it, that she n'lay 



person 



• She's at ViL-nzn:] So the old copies. The modern cdi 
tors re.i<l Pienza. 



Enter hrr own, and, as she jdease, dispose ot 
The prisoners and the spoil. 

Ast. I thank you, sir. 
In the mean time, if I may have your license, 
I have a neplrew, and one once my ward. 
For whose liberties and ransoms 1 would gladly 
Make composition. 

Gonz. They are, as I take it, 
Call'd Gnsparo and Antonio. 

Ait. 'I'he same, sir. 

Gonz. For them, you must treat with these : but, 
for Bertoldo, 
He is mine own : if the king will ransome him. 
He Jiays down fifty thousand crowns; if not 
He lives and dies my slave. 

Ast. Pray you, a word : 
The king will rather thank you to detain hiin, 
Than give one crown to free him. 

Gonz. At his ])leasure. 
I'll send tjie ])risoners under guard : my business 
Calls me another way. [fi«{ 



Scene I.J' 



'JIIF, MAID OF HONOUR. 



9Sf 



Ast. My service waits you. 
Now, o-entlemen, do not deal like mercbants with 

me, 
But noble cnptains ; you know, in great minds 
Posse et nolle, nobile. 

Hod. Piiiy vou, speak 
Our laiiouaoe. 

Jac. 1 (iiid not, in my commission, 
An officer's bound to speak or understand 
More tii;iri bis motber-tongue. 

Hod. It' lie speak tbat 
After raidnigbt, 'tis remarkable. 

Asl. in jilaii) terms, tben, 
Antonio is your prisoner ; Gasparo, yours. 

Juc. Vou are in tiie riglit. 

Asi. At wbat sum do you rate 
Their several ransomes? 

Hod. I must make my market 
As the commodity cost nie. 

Ast. As it cost vou ! 
Vou did not buy your captainship? your desert, 
I hope, advanced you. 

Eod. How! It well appears 
You are no soldier. Desert in tliese days' 
Desert mav make a Serjeant to a colonel, 
And it mav binder him from rising higiier; 
But, if it ev( r get a company, 
A company, pray you mark me, witliout money. 
Or jiriva'e service done ("or the general's mistress, 
With a cominendatory epistle from her, 
I will turn lanceprezado* \ 

Jac. I'ray you observe, sir : 
I served two prenticeships, just fourteen years, 
Trailing the puissant ]>ike, and half so long 
Had the right-hand iile ; and I fought well, 'twas 
said, too: [till doomsday. 

Hut 1 might have served, and fought, and served 
And ne'er have carried a flag, but for the legacy 
A bucksome widow of threescore bequeath'd me; 
And that too, my back knows, I labour'd hard for, 
But was better paid. 

Ast. Vou are merry with yourselves ; 
JJut this is from the purpose. 

Hod. 'I'o the point then. 
Prisoners are not ta'en every day; and, when 
We have them, we must make the best use of them. 
Our pay is little to the pait we should bear. 
And that so long a coming, that 'tis sj)ent 
Before we have it, and hardly wipes oft' scores 
At the tavern arid the ordinary. 

Jac. You may add, too. 
Our sjiort ta'en up on trust. 

Hod. Peace, thou smock-verinin ! 
Discover commanders' secrets!— In a word, sir, 
We have enquired, and find our prisoners rich : 
Two thousand crowns a-pieceour companies cost us ; 
And so much each of us will have, and that 
Jn present pay. 

Jac. It is too little: yet, 
Since vou have said the word, I am content. 
But will not go a gazet lessf. 



• / will turn lanceprezado.] " The lowest range and 
meWiesl oilicir in an aiiiiy is oiled Ilie lancej esado or pre- 
zado, who is ilie leader or jjovenior of half a lile"; and 
thertfoit is coniinonly called a niid<lle man, or captain over 
lour." 

7'he Soldier's Accidence, p. 1. 

♦ But will not go a gizet less.] \ yazet (yazetta) h a 
Veneti.in cum, worth about three-farlhinijs of our money. 



Ast. Since you are not 
To be brought lower, there is no evading; 
I'll be your paymaster. 

Hod. We ilesire no better. 

Ast. But iKit a word of what's agreed between us, 
Till I have school'd my gallants. 

Jac. 1 am dumb, sir. 

Enter a Guard tvith BEiiroi.DO, Antonio, and Gas- 
PERO, in irons. 

Bert. And where removed now ? hath the tyrant 
Worse usage for us J [f.Miiid out 

Ant. Worse it cannot be. [kennel; 

My grevbouird has fresh straw, and scrajis, in his 
But we have neither. 

Gas. Did 1 ever think 
To wear such garters on silk stockings : or 
'J'hat my too ct:rious appetite, that turn'd 
At the sight of godwits, pheasant, jiartridge, quails, 
Larks, woodcocks, calver'd salmon*, as coarse diet. 
Would leap at a mouldy crust ? 

Ant. And go without it, 
.So oft as 1 do ! Oh ! how have I jeer'tl 
The city entertainment ! A huge shoulder 
Of glorious fat ram-mutton, seconded 
With a pair of tame cats or conies, a crab-tart, 
With a worthy loin of veal, and valiant capon 
Mortified to griw tender! — i!)ese I sc'rii'.l 
From their ]dentiful horn of abundance, though 

invited : 
But now I could carry my own s*ool to a tripe, 
And call tlieir chitterlings charity, and bless the 
founder. 

Bert. O that I were no further sensible 
Of my miseries than vou are! you, like beasts, 
Feel only stings of hunger, and com])!aiil not 
But when you're etniity : but your nairow souls 
(If you have am) cannot corn|.reliend 
How insupportable the torments are, 
Which a free and noble soul, made captive, suffers. 
Most miserable men ! and what an 1, then. 
That envy vou ? Fetters, though nrade of gold. 
Express base thraldom ; and all delicates 
Prepared by Median cooks for epicures, 
When not our own, are bitter; (|uilts fiU'd high 
With gossaiiiere and roses cannot yield 
The body soit re|iose, the mind kept wakmg 
With aiigui.-h and affliction. 

Ast. IMv good lord 

Bert. This is no time nor place for flattery, sir* 
Pray you, style me I am, a wretch forsaken 
Of the world as myself. 



Tiie pclly Italian coniant {fo«Uo d'avvisi) wan originally 
sold tor lliis snin ; hence il dtiived tin- u.mie, which is now 
conniion lo all ihe newspapers of Europe. 

• c.ilvei (I salmon ] For calver'd 

iahnon, Mr. M. Mason, who had not y< t discovereil the 
necessity " of reading with attention ihedramalic produc 
tions of Ihe lime; gives us collar d salmon ! The old ex- 
pression, however, is not uncommon: indeed it occur* 
again in llie following pages: 

•' great lords sometimes. 

For change, leave calver'd salmon, and eat sprats." 
The Ounrdian.-, 

" My lootbiiy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmon, 
Knot, godwits, \r." 'Ike AlcUemiat. 

This dish whs nvt out of recpicst in Sha<lweU s time: Tope 
('n\ the ,Scowrirs) says, " I came here to veotnre lor a 
good stomach to xuy calver' d salmon mk\ Inrhot." Il ap- 
pears to have ditlertd but hltle iruMi wh ,t is n-'W called 
pickled salmon ; as the ilirtciit.ns f.T prei.ariug it are — " to 
bull it in vinejjar with oil and spicts.'' 



t38 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act. IIL 



A.tt. I would it were 
1:: me U> help you. 

Bert. If that you want power, sir, 
Lip-comfort cannot cure me. Pray you, leave me 
To mine own private tlioun-lits. [IFu/Asfev. 

Ast. My valiant nejiliew ! [you, 

And my more than warlike ward ! I am glad to see 
After vour glorious coiujuests. Are these cl'ains 
Rewards for your g-ood service? if ihPy are. 
You should wear them on your necks, 'since tbey are 
Like aldermen of the war. [massy, 

Aiit You jeer us too! 

Gasp. Good uncle, name not, as ycu are a man 
of honour. 
That fat;il word of war , the very sound of it 
Is more dreadful than a cannon. 

Ant. But redeem us 
From this captivity, and I'll vow hereafter 
Never to wear a sword, or cut my meat [first. 

With a knife tiivit has an edge or point; I'll starve 

Gasp. I will cry brooms, or cat's-meat, in 
Palermo ; 
Turn porter, carry burthens, any thing. 
Rather tiiati live a soldier. 

Ast. 'i'his should have [y°^> 

Been thought upon before. At what price, think 
Your two wise heads are rated? 

Aiit. A calf's head is [in't 

More worti) tlian mine ; I'm sure it has more brains 
Or I had ne'er come here. 

Rod. And I will eat it 
With bacon, if I have not speedy ransome. [sir : 

Ant. And a little garlic too, for your own sake, 
Twill boil in your stomach else. 

Gasp. Beware of mine. 
Or the horns mav choa-k you ; I am married, sir. 

Ant. You shall have my row of houses near tho 
pal. ce. 

Gasp. And my villa ; all 

A>'t. All that wo have._ 

Ast. Well, have more wit hereafter : for this time, 
You are ransomed. 

.lac Oft' with their irons. 

Rod. Do. do : 
If you are ours again, you know your price. 

Aitt. Pray you (lispatch us: 1 shall ne'er believe 
I am a free man, till 1 set my foot 
In Sicily agam, and drink Palermo, 
And in Palermo too. 

Ast. The wind sits fair. 
You shall aboartl to night ; with the rising sun. 
You may touch uiioii the coast. But take your 
Of the late gene.-.d first. [leaves 

Gap. 1 will be brief. 

Ant. And 1. i\ly lord, heaven kcepvou ! 

Gasp. \'ours, to use 
In the way of jieace ; but as your soldiers, never. 

Ant. A pox of war ! no more of war. 

l^Eiemit Rod. Jac. Ant. and Gasp. 

Bert. Have you 
Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave 
The brother of your king, whose worth disdains 
Comparison wiih .such as these, in irons ? 
If ransome may redeem them, J have lands, 
A patrinion. of m ne own assigned me 
By my deceased sire, to satisf'v 
Whate'er can he demanded for mv freedom. 

Ast. I wi>h you had, sir ; but the king, who yields 
No reason for his will, in his di.spleasuro 



Hath seized on all you had ; nor will Gcnzaga, 
Whose pri>oner now you are, accept of less 
Than fiftv thousand crowns. 

Bert. I find it now. 
That misery never comes alone. But, grant 
The king is yet inexorable, time 
IVIay work him to a feeling of my sufferings. 
I have friends that swore their lives and fortunes 

were 
At my devotion, and, among the rest. 
Yourself, my lord, when forfeited to the law 
For a foul murder, and in cold blood done, 
I made vour life my gift, and reconciled you 
To this incensed king, and got your pardon. 
— Beware ingratitude. 1 know you are rich, 
And mav pay down the sum. 

Ast. I might, my lord. 
But pardon me. 

Bert. And will Asfutio prove, then. 
To please a passionate man (the king's no more). 
False to his maker, and his reason, which 
Commands more than I ask ? O summer-friendship. 
Whose flattering leaves, that shadow'd us iu our 
Prosperity, with the least gust drop off 
In the auuimn of adversity ! How like 
A prison is to a grave ! when dead, we are 
With solemn jionip brought thither, and our heirs. 
Masking their joy in false, dissembled tears. 
Weep o'er the hearse ; but earth no sooner covers 
The earth brought thither, but they turn nu ay 
With inward smiles, the dead no more ren:ember'd ; 
So, enter'd in a ])rison 

Ast. My occasions 
Command me hence, my lord. 

Bert, l^ray you, leave me, do ; 
And tell the cruel king, that I will wear 
These fetters till my flesh and they are one 
Incorjjorated substance. [Exit Aslntin.] In myself. 
As in a glass, I'll look on human frailty. 
And cuise the heiglit of royal blood : siiue I, 
In being born near to .love, am near his thunder*. 
Cedars once shaken with a storm, their own 
Weight giuhs their roots out. — Lead me where you 

])lease ; 
I am his, not fortune's maityr, and will die 
The great example of his cruelty. \_Exit guarded. 



SCENE II.— Palermo. A Grove near the Palace. 

Enter Adorni. 
Ador. He undergoes my challenge, and contemns 
if. 
And threatens me with the late edict made 
'Gainst duellists, the altar towards fly to. 
But I, that am en-aged, and nourish in me 
A higher aim than fair Camiola dreams of, 
Must not sit down thus. In the court 1 <l;ue not 
Attempt him ; and in public he's so guarded 
With a herd of parasites, clients, fools, and suitors, 
That a musket cannon reach him :— my designs 
Admit of no delay. Tiiis is her birthday, 
Which, with a lit and due solemnity, 
Camiola celebrates ; and on it, all such 
As love or serve her usually present 

• /?» bein'i born near to .Jove, am mar his thunder.] 

Tloppuj AiOQ Kai Ti TTOppUi Kipcivv^. We tiavn 

already ha.l an allusiou tu this piovuib, ii) 1 l.c Virj-iu 
Martyr, Act. 1. Sc. 1. 



S.:fae III.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



?39 



A tributary dutv. I'll have something 

To 5?i\'f , if" inv iiiicUigenl'e prove true, 

Shiill find accf ptaiice. I am told, near tliis grove 

Fulgeiitio, every morning, makes tiis markets 

With his peiitioners ; I mav present him 

With a sharp petition ! Ha ! 'tis he : my fate 

Be ever blessVl for't ! 

Enter Fui.cF.XTio nnd Page. 

Ful. Command such as wait me 
Not to i)resume, at the least for half an hour, 
To press on my retirements. 

Page. I will say, sir, 
You are at your prayers. 

Ful That will not find belief; 
Courtiers have something else to do : — begone, sir. 

[Exit Page. 
Challenged ! 'tis well ; and by a groom ! still better. 
Was this shape made to fight? I have a tongue yet, 
Howe'er no sword, to kill him ; and what way, 
This morning I'll resolve of. [Exit. 

Ador. I shall cross 
Vour resolution, or suffer for you. 

[Exitjfolhwiitg him. 



SCENE III. — The same. A Rnom in Camiola's 
House. 

Enter C AMioi. A, fmhwecl hii Servants loith Presents; 
Svi.Lt and Clarinda. 

Sill. What are all these ? 
Clar. Servants with several presents. 
And rich ones too. 

1 Serv. With her best wishes, madam, 
Of many such days to you, the lady I'etula 
Presents you with this fan. 

2 Serv. 'I his diamond 
From your aunt, Ilonoria. 

3 Serv. This piece of plate 

From your uncle, old Vicentio, with your arms 
Graven upon it. 

Cam. Good friends, they are too 
Munificent in their love and favour to me. 
Out of my cabinet return such jewels 
As this directs you: — [To C/u/iWa.] — for your 

pains ; and your's ; 
Nor must you be forgotten. [Cues them money.] 

Honour me 
With the drinking of a health. 

1 Serv. Gold, on my life ! 

2 Serv. She scorns to give base silver. 

3 Serv. Would she had been 
Born every month in tiie year ! 

1 Serv. Month ! every day. 

2 Serv, Show such another maid. 
"3 Serv. All happiness wait you ! 

Clar. I'll see your will done. 

[Exeunt Sylli, Clarinda, and Servants. 

Enter Adorni wounded. 
Cam. How, Adorni wounded ! 
Ador, A scratch got in your service, else not 
worth 
Your observation : I bring not, madam, 
In honour of your birthday, antique plate. 
Or pearl, for which the savage Indian dives 
Into the bottom of the sea ; nor diamonds 
Hewu from steep rocks with danger. Such as give 



To those tliat have, what they themselves waut, 

aim at 
A glad return with profit: yet, despise not 
My offering at the altar of your fav .ur ; 
Nor let the lowness of the giver lesser. 
The height of what's presented : since jt is 
A precious jewel, almost forfeited. 
And dimm'd wiili clouds of infaniv, redoom'd. 
And, in its nritu:al splendour, with addition 
Restored to tlio true owner. 

Cu7n. IIow is this ? 

Ador. Not to hold you in suspense, I bring you, 
madam. 
Your wounded reoutation cured, the stin"- 
Of virulent malice, festering your fair name, 
Pluck'd out and trod on. That proud man, that was 
Denied the hoiicur of your bed, yet durst 
With his untrue reports, strumpet your fame, 
Compeird by me, hath given himself the lie, 
And in his own blood wrote it: — yo'i may read 
Fulgentio subscribed. [OJ'eriiig a paper. 

Cum. I am amazed ! 

Adw. It does deserve it, madam. Common 
service 
Is fit for hinds and the revi-ard pro[)ortion'd 
To their conditions : therefore, look not on me 
Asa follower of your father's fortunes, or 
One that subsists on yours ; — you frown ! my service 
Merits not tiiis aspect:. 

Cam. Wliich oi' my fiivours, 
I might say bounties, hath begot and nourish 'd 
This more than rude presumption I Since voii had 
All itch to try your desperate valour, wherefbio 
U'ent you not 'o the war ? couldst iliou su^ pose 
My innocence could ever fill so loiv 
As to have need of thy rash sword to guard it 
Against malicious slander? O how much 
Those ladies are deceived and cheated, when 
The clearness and integrity of their actions 
Do not defend themselves, and stand secure 
On their own bases ! Such as iii a colour 
Of seeming service give protection to ilieni, [out 
Betray their own strengths. IMalice scorn'd, puts 
Itself; but argued, gives a kind of credit 
To a false accusation. In this, this your 
Most memorahle service, you believed 
You dill me right ; but you have wrong'd me more 
In your defence of my undoubted honour. 
Than false l-ulgentio could. 

Ador. I am sorry what was 
So well intended is so ill received : 

Re-enter Ci.ahinda. 

Yet, under your correction, you wish'd 
Bertoldo had been present. 

C<im. 'i rue, I did : 
But he and you, sir, are not parallels, 
Nor must you think yourself so. 

Adtrr. I am what 
You'll please to have me. 

Cam. If Bertoldo had 
Punish'd Fulgentio's insolence, it had shown 
His love to her whom, in his judgment, he 
Vouchsafed to make his wife ; a lieight, I hope. 
Which you dare not aspire to. The same actions 
Suit not all men alike ; — but I perceive 
Repentance in your looks. For this time, leave me. 
I may forgive, perhaps forget, your folly : 
Conceal yourself till this storm be blown over. 



C49 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act IIL 



You will be sought for ; yet, if my estate 

[Gives him her hand to hiss. 
Can hinder it, shall not sutler in my service. 

Ador. This is something' yet, though 1 miss'd the 
mark I shot at. [Exit. 

Cam. Tliis gentleman is of a noble temper; 
And I too harsh, perhaps, in my reproof: 
Was I not, Clarinda? 

CLtr. I am not to censure 
Your actions, madam ; but there are a thousand 
Ladies, and of good fame, in such a cause 
Would he proud of such a servant. 

Cam. 1 1 may be ; 

Enter a Servant. 

Let me offend in this kind. Why, uncall'd for? 

Serv. The signiors, madam, Gasparo and Antonio, 
Selected friends of the renown'd Bertoldo, 
Put asliore this morning. 

Cum. Without him? 

Serv. 1 think so. 

Cam. Never think more then. 

Serv. 1 hey have been at court, 
Kiss'd the king's hand ; and, their first duties done 
To him, appear ambitious to tender 
To you their second service. 

Cam. Wait them hither. [Exit Servant. 

Fear, do not rack me ! Reason, now, if ever, 
Haste witli tliy aids, and tell me, such a wonder 
As my Bertoldo is, with such care fashion'd, 
Must not, nay, cannot, in heaven's providence. 

Enter Antonio and Gaspeiio. 
So soon miscarry!— pray you, forbear; ere you take 
Tlie privilege, as strangers, to salute me 
(Excuse my manners), make me first understand 
How it is wiih Bertoldo. 

Ga^p. The relation 
Will not, 1 fear, deserve your thankg. 

Ant, I wish 
Some other should inform you. 

Cam. Is hf df ad ? 
You see, though with some fear, I dare enquire it. 

Gas/i. Deac! ! Would that were the worst, a debt 
were paid ilicn, 
Kings in tlieir birth owe nature. 

Cum. Is there aught 
More terrible than death? 

Ant. Ves, to a spirit 
Like his ; cruel imprisonment, and that 
Without the h(ii)e of freedom. 

Cum. You abuse me*: 
The royal king cannot, in love to virtue 
(Though all springs of affection were dried up), 
But j)ay his ransoine. 

Gasp. W hen you know what 'tis, 
You will think otherwise : no less will do it 
Than fifty tliousand crownfe. 

Cam. A petty sumf, [sand ! 

The ])rice weigh'd with the purchase; fifty thou- 
To the king 'tis nothing. He that can spare more 
To his minion for a mask, cannot but ransome 
Such a brother at a million. You wrong 
Tlie king's magnificence. 

• Cam. y'nu abiisr me:] i.e. practise on my credulity 
with » t'oig.d tall-: ihe word oiieii occurs in lliis sense. 

t A p.lty sum,] Tlie old copi.s read a pretty sum ; and 
ire probihly ns;lit ; pre»y is ottcn used in ilie sense of 
trifling, inco'isidtrable, iScc, by onr ancient wi iters. 



Ant, In your opinion ; 
But 'tis most certain : he does not alcae 
In himself refuse to pay it, but forbids 
All other men. 

Cam. Are you sure of this? 

Guip. Vou may read 
The edict to that purpose, publish'd by Lim ^ 
That will resolve you. 

Cam. Possible ! pray vou, stand off, 
If I do not mutter treason to myself, 
My heart will break ; and yet 1 will not curse him , 
He is my king. The news you have deliver'd 
Makes me weary of your company ; we'll salute 
Wlien we meet next. I'll bring you to the door. 
Nay, pray you, no more compliments. 

Gasp. One thing more. 
And that's substantial : let your Adorni 
Look to himself. 

Ant. The king is much incensed 
Against him for Fulgentio. 

Cam. As I am. 
For your slowness to depart. 

Both. Farewell, sweet latiy. 

[Exeunt Gaspero and Antmxio. 

Cam. O more than impious times ! when not 
alone 
Subordinate ministers of justice are 
Corrupted and seduced, but kings themselves, 
The greater wheels by which thelesser move. 
Are broken, or* disjointed ! cuuU it be, else, 
A king, to soothe his politic ends, should so far 
Forsake his honour, as at once to break 
The adamant chains of nature- and religion. 
To bind upatheismf, as a defence 
To his dark counsel ? Will it ever be. 
That to deserve too much is dangerous. 
And virtue, when too eminent, a crime? 
Must she serve fortune still, or, when slripp'd of 
Her gay and glorious favours, lose the beauties 
Of iter own natural shape? O, my Bertoldo, 
Thou only sun in lionour's sphere, how soon 
Art thou eclipsed and darkeu'il ! not the nearness 
Of blood prevailing on the king ; nor all 
The benefits to the general good dispensed, 
Gaining a retribution ! But that 
To owe a courtesy to a simple virgin 
Would take from thef deserving, 1 find in me 
Some sparks of fire, which, fann'd with honour** 

breath. 
Might rise into a flame, and in men darken 
Their usurp'd splendour. Ha ! my aim is high, 
And, for the honour of my sex, to fall so. 
Can never prove inglorious. — 'lis resolved : 
Call in Adorni. 

Clar. I am happy in 
Such an employment, madam. [Exit 

Cam. He's a man, 



• Are broken, or disjointed !] So all llie editors I ill Mr. 
M. Mason, ulio clioo.-es to read-Are broken a«rf dis- 
jointed. It' tl;e wheels were once brol^en, the state of 
their joints was a ni.itier ot no great ronijiieni e. 

♦ Vo bind tip atheism,] Dnr oil writers .-ecm to have 
used such words as prolaneness, blasphemy, at/ieium, &c. 
with a laxity which mo ein practice does not acknovv- 
ledsje. 1 liey applied iheiii to any exlraordinaiy violdtiou 
of iiu)ral oi- n.itural decornin. 

i Hould take from i\ik dvsfirvinn.] The modern edi- 
tors read, //(// deservMii;. 1 li.i\e followed the (piarlo. The 
obsei vaiion is uiiieral, not liiiiiied to her li.-Vi r. 1 need 
not obseiveon ihe uucoioiiioii beaui> of this spirited (peech 



Scene I.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



»*\ 



I know, that at a reverent distance loves me ; 

And such are ever faithful. What a sea 

Of meltinrj ice I w.ilk on ! what strange censures 

Am I to undergo ! but good intents 

Deride all future rumours. 

lie-enter Clarinda with Adorni. 

Ador. I obey 
Your summons, madiim. 

Cum. J^eave the place, Clarimla ; 
One woman, in a secret of such weight. 
Wise men may think too much: [Eiit Clarinda "^ 

nearer, Adorni, 
I warrant it with a smile, 

Ador. I cannot ask 
Safer protection ; what's your will? 

Cam. To doubt 
Your ready desire to serve me, or prepare you 
With the repetition of former merits, 
Would, in my diffidence, wrong- you: but I will. 
And wiiliout circumstance, in the trust that 1 
Impose liponyou, free you from suspicion. 

Ador. I foster none of you. 

Cam. I know you do not. 
You are, Adorni, by the love you owe me 

Ador. The surest conjuration. 

Cam. Take me with you*, — 
Love born of duty ; but advance no further. 
You are, sir, as 1 said, to do me service, 
To undertake a task, in which your faith. 
Judgment, discretion — in a word, your all 
That's good, must be engaged ; nor must you study, 
In the execution, but what may make 
For the ends I aim at. 

Adm-. They admit no rivals. [toldo's 

Cam. You answer well. You have heard of Ber- 
Captivity, and the king's neglect ; the greatness 



Of his ransome ; fifty thousand crowns, Adcrui ; 
'J'wo parts of my estate ! 

Ador. 'I"o what tends this? 

Cum. Yet I so love the gentleman, for to you 
I will confess my weakness, that 1 pur])06e 
Now, when he is forsaken by the king, 
And his own hopes, to ransome him, and receive bim 
Into my boscmi, as my lawful husband- 
Why cliani^e you colour? 

Ador. 'lis in wonder of 
Your virtue, madam. 

Cam. You must, therefore, to 
Sienna for me, and pay to Gonznga 
'I'his ransome for his liberty ; you shall 
Have bills of exchange along with you. Let bim 

swear 
A solemn contract to me, for you must be 

IMy principal witness if he shaiihi but why 

Do 1 entertain these jealousies? ^'ou will do this? 

Ador. Faithfully, madam — but not live long 
after. \^Aside. 

Cam. One thing I had forgot : besides his 
freedom, 
He mav want accommodations ; furnish him 
According to his birth : and from (Jamiola 
Deliver this kiss, printed on your lips, [Ames him, 
Seal'd on his hand. You shall not see my bluslies : 
I'll instantly dispatch you. [fail. 

Ador. 1 am half 
Hang'd out o' the way already. — Was there ever 
Poor lover so employ 'd against himself 
'I'o make way for his rival ? I must do it, 
]\'ay, more, 1 will. If loyalty can find 
Recompense beyond hope or imagination. 
Let it fall on me in the other world. 
As a reward, for in this I dare not hope it. [Eiit. 



ACT i;. 



SCENE I. — The Siennese. A Camp before the 

Watts of Sienna. 

Enter Gonzaga, Pierio, Roderigo, and Jacomo. 

Gonz. You have seized upon the citadel, and dis- 
arm'd 
All that could make resistance? 

Pier, Hunger had 
Done that, before we came ; nor was the soldier 
Compell'd to seek for prey : the famisb'd wretches, 
In hope of mercy, as a sacrifice offer'd 
All that was worth the taking. 

Gonz. You proclaim'd. 
On pain of death, no violence should be offer'd 
To any woman ? 

Hod. But it needed not; 
For famine had so humbled them, and ta'en off 
The care of their sex's honour, that there was not 
So coy a beauty in the town, but would, 

• Tahe me with, you.] See Tlie Great Duke of Floriince. 
—Act. 11. Sc. 2. 



For balf a mouldy biscuit, sell herself 

To a poor bisognion*, and witliout shrieking. 

Gonz. Where is tlie duke of Urbin ? 

Jac. Under guard. 
As you directed. 

Gonz. See the soldiers set 
In rank and file, and, as the duchess passes. 
Bid them vail their ensignsf : and charge them, on 
Not to cry Whores. [their lives, 

* To a poor bisognion,] Bitogni, in Italian, signifies a 
recruit. M. Mason. 

Mr. M. Mason's Italian is nearly as correct as his Eng- 
lish. Bisoyno is sonutimes, ir.deed, used tor a 5olilier in 
liis first campaign (a tyro,) but for a recruit, in oiir fense 
oi I lie word, 1 believe never. A b'soynion ((dim bi$oy- 
noso,) is a necessitous person, a beggar, &lc. in our olil 
\\r'\i' rs it Ircquently occurs as a term of cooteinpt. 

♦ Did them vail their entiyns j ] i.e. lower tliem, in 
token of superior authority : 

" Now the time is come 

That France must vnil her lofty-plumed crest. 
And let her head fall into Engl.md > lap " 

" First Part o/ Kiny Henry VJ 



tit 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act IV 



Jac. 'Hie df vil cnnnot fright them 
From tlieir military license. 'Iliouijh iliey know 
They "'"e lier subjects, and will jiart with being 
To do her service ; yet, since she's ii woman, 
Ihey will touch at her breech witli llieir tongues; 

and that is ;ill 
That tliey can hope for. 

I A ihoiil, and a general cry within, Whores I 
w holts ! 
Govt. O the devil I they are at it 
Hell stop their brawling tliiouts. Again ! make up, 
And luduel them into jelly. 

lind. 'I'o no purpose, 
Though their nioihers were tliere, they would have 
the same name for them. [^Eteunt. 



SCENE II. — The same. Another Part rf the Camp. 

Loud Music. Enter RoDEnioo, Jacomo, PrFRio, 
GoNZAiJA, and AunELiA uiidiT a Cai.opy. Abtutio 
presents her irith ietters. 

Gum. 1 do beseech vour liigliness not to ascribe 
To the want of discipline the barbarous rudeness 
Of the S(iklier, in his profanation of 
Your sacred name and virtues. 

Aiirel. No, lord general ; 
I've heard my father say oft, 'twas a custom 
Usual in the camp; nor are they to be punish'd 
For words, that have, in fact, deserved so well : 
Let the one excuse the other. 

All. Excellent princess ! [us, 

Aiird Hut for these aids from Sicily sent against 
To blast our spring of conquest in the bud ; 
I cannot find, my lord ambassador. 
How we should enterlain't but as a wrong, 
V\ itii purpose to detain us from our own. 
However the king endeavours, in his letters, y 
To mitigate the aftVont. 

Ast. \'our grace hereafter 
May hear from me such strong assurances 
Ol his unlimited desires to serve you. 
As will, 1 hope, drown in forgetlulness 
The memory of what's |iast. 

Aiirel. We shall take time 
To search the depth oft further, and proceed 
As our council'shall direct us. 

Gonz. We present you 
With the keys of the city, all lets are removed ; 
Your way is smooth and easy ; at your feet 
Vour proudest enemy falls. 

Auiel. We thank your valours: 
A victory without blood is twice achieved, 
.\nd the disposure of it, to us tender'd. 
The greatest honour. Worthy captains, thanks ! 
My love extends itself to all. 

Gonz. Make way there. 

[-4 Guard draun up; A urelia passes through 
them. Loud mu^ic. [ Eieunt. 



SCENE III. — Sienna. A Poom in the Prison. 
Bfhtoi EC it discotertd in fetters, readinv. 

Bert. 'Tis here determined (great examples arm'd 
With aririiments, produced to make it good) 
1 hat neither tyiants, nor the wrested laws, 
The people'.s frantitf rage, sad exile, want. 



Nor that which I endure, captivity, 

Can do a wise man any injury. 

Thus Seneca, when he wrote it, thotiglit. — But thea 

Felicity courted him ; his weallh exceeding 

A jirivate man's ; bap])y in the embraces 

Of his chaste wife Paulina ; his house full 

Of chddreii, clients, servants, flattering friends. 

Soothing his lip-posiiioiis ; and created 

Prince of the senate, by the general voice, 

At his new pupil's suffrage : then, no douht. 

He Iiehl, and ilid believe, this. But no sooner 

1 he prince's frowns and jealousies had thrown him 

Out ol security's lap, and a centurion 

Had orter'd him what choice of death he pleased. 

But tohl liini, die lie must ; when straight tbs 

armour 
Of his so boasted fortitude fell off, 

[7"/i)o(is auau the book. 
Complaining of hi.s frailty. Can it then 
Be censiire<l womanish weakness in me, if, 
Thus clogg'd with irons, and the period 
'I'o close up all calamities denied me. 
Which was presented Seneca, I wish 
I ne'er had being ; at least, never knew [tice 

What hapjiiness was: or argue with heaven's jus- 
Tearing my locks, and, in defiance, throwing 
Dust ill the air : or, falling on the ground, thus 
With my nails and teeth to dig a giave or rend 
'1 he bowels of the earth, my step-mother, 
And not a natural jiarent? or thus practise 
'Jo die, and, as 1 were insensible. 
Believe 1 had no motion ? [Falls on hiifaat 

Enter Gonzaga, Adohni, and Gaoler. 

Gonz. There he is : 
I'll not eiu)uire by whom his ransome's paid, 
I'm sati^fied that 1 have it ; nor allege 
One leasoii to excuse his cruel usage, 
As you may interpret it ; let it sufhce 
It was my will to have it so. He is yours now. 
Dispose of him as you jdease. [Exit. 

Ador. llowe'er 1 hate him, 
As one preferr'd before me, being a man, 
He does deserve my pity. Sir ! — he sleeps : — 
Or is he dead ( would he were a saint in htaven ! 
'Tis all the hurt 1 wish him. But, 1 was not 
Born to such h-.ippiness — [Kneels by him.] — no, he 

breathes — come near. 
And, ift be possible, without his feeling. 
Take off his irons. — [His irons taken off.] — So ; now 

leave us private. [Eiit Gaoler. 

He does begin to stir ; and, as transported 
With a joyful dream, how he stares ! and feels hia 

legs. 
As yet uncertain whether it can be 
True or fantastical. 

Bert, [rising.] JMinisters of mercy. 
Mock not lalamity. Ha! 'tis no vision! 
Or, if it be, the happiest that ever 
Appear'd to sinful flesh! Who's here? bis faca 
Speaks him Ailorni ; — but some glorious angel. 
Concealing its divinity in his shape, 
Hath (lone this miracle, it being not an act 
For wolfish man. Resolve me, if thou bck'st for 
Bent kuees in adoration? 

Ador. O forbear, sir ! 
I am Adorni, and the instrument 
Of your deliverance ; but the benefit 
You owe another. 



CCENE IV.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



ttf 



Bert. If he has a name, 
As soon as spoken, 'tis writ on my heart 
I am liis bondmiin. 

Adiir. To trie shame of mtm, 
This great act is a woman's. 

Bert. The whole sex 
For lier sake must be deified. How I wander 
In my imagination, yet cannot 
Guess who this phoenix should be ! 

Ador. ' Tis Caraiola. 

Beit. Prav you, speak't again : there a music in 
her name. 
Once iiiore, I pray you, sir. 

Ador. Camiola, 
The Maid or Honour. 

Bert. Curs'd atheist that I was, 
Only to doubt it could be any other : 
Since she alone, in the abstract of herself, 
That small, but ravishing substance, comprehends 
Whatever is, or can be wi>h'd, in the 
Idea of a woman! Owhat service, 
Or sacritice of duty, can 1 pay her. 
If not to live and die her charity's slave, 
Which is resolved already ! 

Ador. She expects not 
Such a dominion o'er you : yet, ere I 
Deliver her demands, give me your hand : 
On this, as she enjoin'd me, with my lips 
I print her love and service, by me sent you, 

Brrt. 1 am overwhelmed with wonder ! 

Adnr. You must now, 
Which is the sum of all that slie desires. 
By a solemn contract bind yourself, win n she 
Requires it, as a debt due for your freedom, 
To marrv her. 

Bert. This does engage me further; 
A payment! an increase of obligation. 
To marry her ! — 'twas my nil ultra ever : 
The end of my ambition. O that now 
The holy man, s-he present, were prepared 
To join our hands, but with that speed my heart 
Wishes mine eyes might see her I 

Ador. You must swear this. [tions, 

Btrt. Swear it! Collect all oaths and impreca- 
Whose least breach is damnation, and those 
Minister'd to me in a form more dreadful ; 
Set heaven and hell before me, I will take them : 
False to Camiola ! never. — Shall I now 
Begin my vows to you ? 

Ador. I am no churchman ; 
Such a one must file it on record : you are free ; 
And, that you may appear like to yourself [may 

("For so she wish'd), here's gold, with which you 
Redeem your trunks and servants, and whatever 
Of late you lost. I have found outthe captain 
Whose spoil they werej his name is Roderigo. 

Bert. I know him. 

Ador. 1 have done my parts*. 

Bert. So niuch, sir, 
As 1 am ever yours for't. Now, methinks, 

I walk in air .' Divine Camiola 

But words cannot express thee : I'll build to thee 

An altar in my soul, on which I'll oiler 

A still-increasing sacrifice of duty. [Eai'f. 

Ador. \\ hat will become of ni© now is apparent. 
Whether a poniard or a halter bo 

Adiir. / have done my parts.] There iS no expression 
more l.tniili.ir \u our old rtiiiers tliiin ihi'*; jit Masfiiiger's 
editois, ill ilitir bliiiil rase li«i- reloiiiialiun, perptluilly cor- 
^pt it lulu— y havedorte mf/ part. 



I he nearest way to hell (fori must thither. 
After I've kill'd myself), is somewhat doubtful. 

I his Roman resolution of self-murder 

Will not hold water at the hii;h tribunal, 

W hen it comes to be argued ; my good genius 

Prompts nie to this consideration. He 

'I'liat kills himself to avoid misery, fears it, 

And, at the best, shews but a baMaid valour. 

This life's a fort committed to mv trust. 

Which I must not yield up till it he forced : 

Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die. 

But he that boldly bears calamity. [ExiL 



SCENE IV. — Tlie sawe. A State-room in tkt 
Palace. 

A Flourish, Enter Pieiuo, RoDEnico, .Tacomo, 

GONZAGA, Auntl.IA, 1-tHDINAND, AsTt-'TlO, U7ld 

Attendants. 

Aurel. A seat here for the duke. It is our glory 
To overcome with courtesies, not rigour ; 
The lordly Roman, who held it the height 
Of human hajipiness to have kings and queens 
'i"o wait by his triumphant chariot-wheels. 
In his insulting pride deprived himself 
Of drawing near the nature of the gods. 
Best known for such, in being merciful. 
Yet, give me leave, but still witli gentle language, 
And with the freedom of a friend, to tell you, 
To seek by force, what courtship could not win. 
Was harsh, and never taught in Love's mild school. 
Wise' poets feign that Venus' coach is drawn 
By doves and sparrows, not by bears and tigers. 
I spare the application*. 

Fer. In my fortune 
Heaven's justice hath confirm 'd it: yet, great lady, 
Since my oft'ence grew from excess of love, 
And not to be resisted, having paid, too, 
With loss of liberty, the forfeiture 
Of my presumption, in your clemency 
It may find pardon. 

Aurel. You shall have just cause 
To say it hath. The charge of the long siege 
Defray'd, and the loss my subjects have sustain'd 
Made good, since so far I must deal with caution, 
You have your liberty. 

Fer. I could not hope for 
Gentler conditions. 

Aurel. My lord Gonzaga, 
Since my coming to Sienna, I've heard much of 
Your prisoner, brave Bertoldo. 

onz. Such an one, 
Madam, I had. 

Ast. And have still, sir, I hope, 

Gonz. Your hopes deceive you. He is ransomed, 
madam. 

Ast. By whom, I pray you, sir? 

Gonz. You had best enquire 
Of your intelligencer: I am no informer. 

Ait. I like not this. 

Aurel. He is, as 'tis reported, 
A goodly gentleman, and of noble parts ; 
A brother of your order. 



• / spare the application.] Coxelfr and Mr. M. ^^H^on 
j;ive lliis litiiiislicli tu Fiidiii.nid, and so indrid dors niT 
qiurlo: all llie oilieis wliich I liave exaiiriiied make % 
conclude Aurelia's ^pcecb, to wtiicli it evidcnilj belongs.- 



144 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act IV 



Gonz. He whs, matlnin, 
Till he, against liis oiuli, wrong:'cl vou, a princess, 
Which his religion bound him from. 

Aurel. G^^at minds, 
Eor trial of their valours, oft maintain 
Quarrels that are unjust, yet without malice; 
And sucli a tair construction I make of him: 
I would see that brave enemy. 

Gonz. My duty 
Commands me to seek for him. 

Aurel. i'ray > ou do ; 
And bring- him to our presence. [Exit Gonzaga. 

Ast. 1 must blast 
His entertainment. IMay it please your excellency, 
He is a man debauch'd, and for his riots. 
Cast off bv the king my master ; and that, I hope, is 
A crime sufficient. 

Fer. To you, his subjects. 
That like as your ting likes. 

Aurel. But not lo us; 
We must weigh with our own scale. 

Re-enter Gonzaga, with Bertoluo richly hubiUd, and 
Adorni. 

This is he, sure. 
How soon mine eye had found him ! wliat a port 
He beais ! how well his bravery bt comes him ! 
A prisoner ! nay, a princely suitor, rather! 
But I'm too sudden. [Aside. 

Gonz. M^dam, 'twas his suit, 
Unsent for to present his service to you, 
Ere his departure. 

Aurel. With what majesty- 
He bears himsi If ! 

Ast. The devil, I think, supplies him. 
Ransomed, and thus rich too ! 

Aurel. You ill deserve 

[Bertoldo kneeling, kisses her hand. 

The favour of our hand we are not well, 

Give us more air. [Rises suddenly. 

Gonz. What sudden qualm is this ! 

Aurel. —That lifted yours against me. 

Bert. Thus, once more, 
I sue for pardon. 

Aurel. Sure his lips are poison'd. 
And through these veins force passage to my heart. 
Which is already seized on. [Aside. 

Bei-t. I wait, madam, 
To know what your commands are ; my designs 
Exact me in another place. 

Aurel Before 
You have our license to depart ! If manners. 
Civility of manners, cannot teach you 
To attend our leisure, I must tell you, sir, 
That you are still our prisoner; nor had you • 
Commission to free him. 

Gonz. How's this, madam? 

Aurel. You were my substitute, and wanted power 
Without my warrant, to dispose of Lim: 
1 will pay back liis ransome ten times over, 
Rather tlian quit my interest. 

Bert. This is 
Against tlie law of arms. 

Aurel. But not of love. [Aside. 

Why, hafli your entertainment, sir, been such. 
In j'our restraint, tliat, with the wings of fear. 
You would fly from it ? 

Bert I know no man, madam, 
Enamour'd of his fetters, or delighting 
In cold or hunger, or that would iu reason 



Prefer straw in a dungeon, before 
A do^^ n-bed m a palace. 

Autel. How I — Come nearer : 
Was lis usage such ? 

Goni. Yes ; and it had been worse. 
Had I foreseen this. 

AiireL O tliou mis-shaped monster ! 
In thee it is confirni'd, that such as have 
No share in natuie's bounties, know no pity 
To such as have them. Look on him with my eyes. 
And answer, then, whether 'his were a man 
Whose cheeks of lovely fulness should be made 
A prey to meagre famine? or these eyes. 
Whose every glance store Cujud's emptied quiver, 
To be dimm'd with tedious watching ? or these lips. 
These ruddy lips, of whose fresh colour cherries 
And roses were but cojJies, should grow jiale 
For want of neitar? or these legs, that bear 
A burthen of more worth than is su])poned 
By Atlas' wearied shoulders, should be cramp'd 
With the weight of iron ? O, I could dwell ever 
On this description ! 

Bert. Is this in derision. 
Or pity of me ? 

Aurel. In your charity 
Believe me innocent. Now you are my prisonei. 
You shall have fairer quarter ; you will siiame 
The place where you have been, should you now 

leave it. 
Before you are recover'd. I'll conduct you 
To more convenient lodgings, and it shall bo 
My care to cherish you. Repine who dare ; 
It is our will. You'll follow me? 

Bert. To the centre, 
Such a Sybilla guiding me. 

[E.x£unt Aurelia, Bertoldo, and Attendants 

Gonz. Who speaks first? 

Fer. We stand as we liad seen Medusa's head. 

Pier. I know not what to think, I am so amazed. 

Rod. Amazed ! I am thunderstruck, 

Jac. We are enchanted 
And this is some illusion. 

Ador. Heaven Yorbid ! 
In dark despair it shows n beam of hope : 
Contain thy joy, Adorni. 

Ast. Such a princess. 
And of so long-experienced reserv'dness. 
Break forth, and on the sudden, into flashes 
Of more than doubted looseness ! 

Gonz. 'Ihey con.cj again. 
Smiling, as I live ' his arm circling her waist. 
I shall run mad :— ^ome iury bath possess'd her. 
If I speak, 1 may be blasted. Ha ! I'll mumble 
A prayer or iv^o, and cross myself, and then, 
Though the devil f — fire, have at him. 

Re-enter Bebtoldo and Aurelia. 

Aurel. Let not, sir. 
The violence of my passion nonrish in you 
An ill-opinion ; or, grant my carnage 
Out of the road and garb of private women, 
'Tis still done with decorum. As I am 
A princess, what I'do is above censure. 
And to be imitated. 

Bert. Gracious madam, 
Vouchsafe a little pause ; for I am so rapt 
Beyond myself, that, till 1 have collected 
My scatter'd faculties, I cannot tende." 
Mv resolution. 



Scene V] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



ftiS 



Aurel. Consider of it, 
I will not be long from you. 

[Bertoldo walks by, musing. 

Gans. Pray I cannot, 
This cursed object stmngles my devotion : 
I must speak, or I burst. Pray you, lair lady, 
If you can, in courtesy direct me to 
The cliaste Aurelia. 

Aurel. Are you blind ? who are we? 

Gonz. Another kind of thing. Her blood was 
govern'd 
By her discretion, and not ruled lier reason; 
The reverence and majesty of Juno 
Shined in her looks, and, coming to the camp, 
Appear"d a second Pallas. I can see 
No such divinities in you : if I, 
Without offence, may speak my thoughts, you are, 
As 'twere, a wanton Helen. 

Aurel. Good ; ere long 
You shall know me better. 

Gonz. Why, if you are Aurelia, 
How shall I dispose of the soldier? 

Ast. May it please you 
To hasten my dispitch ! 

Aurel. Prefer your suits 
Unto Bertoldo ; we will give him hearing, 
And you'll find him your best advocate. £Exif. 

Ast. This IS rare ! 

Gonz. What are we come to ? 

Rod. Grown up in a moment 
A favourite ! 

Ferd. He does take state already. 

Bert. No, no ; it cannot be : — yet, but Camiola, 
There is no stop between me and a crown. 
Then my ingratitude ! a sin in which 
All sins are comprehended ! Aid me, virtue. 
Or I am lost. 

Gons. May it please your excellence — 
Second me, sir. 

Bert. Then my so horrid oaths. 
And hell-deep imprecations made against it ! 

Ast. The king, your brother, will thank you for 
the advancement 
Of his affairs. 

Bert. And yet who can hold out 
Against such batteries as her power and greatness 
Raise up against my weak defences ! 

Gonz. Sir, 

Reenter Aurelia. 

Do you dream waking ? 'Slight, she's here again ! 
Walks she on woollen feet*! 

Aurel. Vou dwell too long 
In your deliberation, and come 
With a cripple's pace to that which you should fly to. 

Bert. It is confess'd : yet why should I, to win 
From you, that hazard all to my poor nothing. 
By false play send you off a loser from me ? 
I am already too, too much engaged 
To the king my brother's anger ; and who knows 
But that his doubts and politic fears, should you 
Make me his equal, may draw war upon 
Your territories : Were that breach made up, 
I should wiih'joy embrace what now I fear 
To touch but with due reverence. 



Aurel. That hinderance 
Is easilv removed. 1 owe the Iting 
For a royal visit, which I straight will pay him ; 
And having first reconciled you to bis iavo'j'", 
A dispensation shall meet with us. 

Bert. I am wholly yours. 

Aurel. On this book seal it. [gain's sure. 

Gonz.. What, hand and lip too ! then ilie bar- 
You have no employment for me 1 

Aurel. Ve.«, Gonzaga , 
Provide a royal ship. 

Gonz. A siiip ! St. .John ; 
Wiiiiher are we bound now? 
-Auri-l. You shall know hereafter. 
Mv lord, your pardon, for my too much trenching 
Upon your patience. 

Ador. Camiola. lAtide to Bertoldo. 

Aurel. How do you do? 

Bert. Indisposed ; but I attend you. 

[Eieunt all but Adomi 

Ador. The heavy curse that waits on perjury, 
And foul ingratitude, pursue thee ever! 
Vet whv from me this '. in his breach of faith 
My loyalty finds reward : what poisons him. 
Proves mitliridate to me. I have perform 'd 
Ail she commanded, punctually : and no«-, 
III the clear miiror of my truth, she may 
Behold his falsehood. . O that 1 had wings 
'Jo bear me to Palermo! This once known, 
INIust change her love into a just disdain. 
And work her to compassion of my pain. [E«/ 



ff'alks she orp woollen feet !] These words are cer- 
tainly pari of Giaizjga's sprecli, who is surprised at the 
Midden rtturn of Aiirvlia; tlicy would come slnuiffely from 
Bertoldo, in the midst of his meditations. M. Mason. 

I have adopted Mr. M. Mason's amendment. The old 
••V' *ives this hemisticli to Bertoldo. 

19 



SCEN K V. — Palermo. A Room in Camiola's House. 

Enter Sylli, Camiola, and Clarinda, at several 

doors. 

Sul. Undone I undone! poor I, that ■whilome was 
The top and ridge of my house, am, in the sudden, 
'I'urn'd to the pitifuUest animal 
O' the lineage of the Syllis ! 

Cam. What's the matter? 

Sill. '1 he king— break girdle, break ! 

Cam. Why, what of him ? 

5iy'- Hearing how far you doated on my person, 
Growing envious of my happiness, atid knowing 
His brother, nor his favourite, Fulgeiitio, 
Could get a sheep's eve from vou, 1 being present. 
Is come himself a suitor, with the awl 
Of his authority to bore my nose. 
And take vou from me — Oh, oh, oh I 

Cam. Do not roar so : 
The king ! 

HuL 1 he king. Yet loving Sylli is not 
So sorry for his own, as your misfortune; 
If the king should carry you, or you bear him, 
What a loser should you be ! He can but make you 
A (jueen, and what a simple thing is that. 
To the being my lawful spouse ! the world can never 
Afford you such a husband. 

Cam. I believe you. 
But how are you sure the king is so inclined? 
Did not you dream this ? 

Sul. VVith these eyes I saw him 
Jlismiss his train, and lighting from his coach, 
Whispering Fulgentio in the ear. 

Cam. It so, 
I gu'ss the business. 

Sul. It can be no othef-, 
But io give me the bob, that being a matter, 
Of main importance. Yonder they are, I dare not 



M6 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[AcrV 



Enter Roberto and Fulgentio. 

Be seen, I am so desperate : if you forsake me, 
Send me word, that I may provide a willow garland, 
To wear when I drown myself. O Sylli, Sylli ! 

\^Exit crying. 

Ful. It will be worth your pains, sir, to observe 
Tlie constancy and bravery of her spirit, 
riiougii great men tremble at your frowns, I dare 
Hazard my head, your majesty, set oflF 
With terror cannot fright her. 

Huh. May she answer 
My expectation ! 

Ful. There she is ! 

Cam. My knees thus 
Bent to the earth, while my vows are sent upward 
For the safety of my sovereign, pay the duty 
Due for so great an honour, in this favour 
Done to your humblest handmaid. 

Roh. You mistake me ; 
I come not, lady, that you may report 
The king, to do you honour, made your house 
(He being there) his court ; but to correct 
Your stubborn disobedience. A pardon 
For that, could you obtain it, were well purchased 
With this humility. 

Cam. ^A pardon, sii: f 
Till I am conscious of an offence, 
I will not wrong my innocence to beg one. 
What is my crime, sir? 

Rob. Look on him I favour. 
By you scorn'd and neglected*. 

Cam. Is that all, sir ? 

R4)b. No, minion ; though that were too much. 
How can you 
Answer the setting on your desperate bravo 
To murder him ? 

Cam. With your leave, I must not kneel, sir, 
While I reply to this : but thus rise up 
In my defence, and tell you, as a man 
(Since, when you are unjust, the deity 
Which you may challenge as a king parts from you), 
'Twas never read in holy writ, or moral, 
That subjects on their loyalty were obliged 
To love their sovereign's vices; your grace, sir. 



To such an undeserver is no virtue. 

FitL What think you now, sir? 

Cam. Sny, you should love wine. 
You being the king, and, 'cause I am your subject, 
Must 1 be ever drunk ? 'I'yrants, not kings. 
By violence, from humble vassals force 
The liberty of their souls. ' I could not love him j 
And to compel affection, as I take it, 
Is not found in your prerogative. 

Rob. Excellent virgin ! 
How I admire her confidence ! \Atid$, 

Cam. He complains 
Of wrong done him : but, be no more a king. 
Unless you do me right. Burn your decrees, 
And of your laws and statutes make a fire 
To thaw the frozen nuhibness of delinquents, ■ 
If he escape unpunish'd. Do your edicts 
Call it death in any man that breaks into 
Another's house, to rob him, though of trifles; 
And shall Fulgentio, your Fulgentio, live. 
Who hath committed more than sacrilege. 
In the pollution of my clear fame. 
By his malicious slanders ? 

Rob. Have you done this ? 
Answer truly, on your life. 

Ful. In the heat of blood. 
Some such thing I reported. 

Uob. Out of my sight ! 
For I vow, if by true penitence thou win not 
This injured virgin* to sue out thy pardon. 
Thy grave is digg'd already. 

Ful. By my own folly 
I have made a fair hand oft. [Exit. 

Roh. You shall know, lady, 
While I wear a crown, justice shall use her sword 
lo cut offenders off, though nearest to us 

Cam. Ay, now you show whose deputy you are . 
If now I bathe your feet with tears it cannot 
Be censured superstition. 

Rob. You must rise ; 
Rise in our favour and protection ever. [A'isses her. 

Cam. Happy are subjects when the prince is still 
Guided by justice, not bis passionate will. 

[£xeun4 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — The tame, A Room in Cauiola's House. 
Enter Camiola and Sylli. 

Cam. Yott see how tender I am of the quiet 
And peace of your affection, and what great ones 
I put off in your favour. 

Syl. You do wisely, 
Exceeding wisely ; and when I have said, 
I thank you for't, he happy. 

Cam. And good reason. 
In having such a blessing. 



• Rob, Look on him I favour, 

By you ncom'd and neglected."] Coxeter and llr. M. 
Mason, iu defiance of metre and sense : 

Kob. Look on him I favour, ■ 
Yoa «c«m'i, Ste. 



Syl. When yoti liave it ; 
But the bait is not yet ready. Stay the time. 
While I triumph by myself. King, by your leave, 
I have wiped your royal nose without a napkin ; 
You may cry, willow, willow ! for your brother, 
I'll only say, go byf ! for my fine favourite. 



• This injured vhgin to sue mit tht/ pardon,] I ha»e 
alreaily observed th;it llieic is bill one edition ol iliis pliiy; 
(be copies, however, v:iry considerably. In this line, Jor 
example, some of lliem read virgin, somp lady, and home 
omit the word ahogether. In these cases nolliiiig remaini 
for an editor, biit lo make use of liis judgment, and select 
(hat which appears the least objectionable. 

t for t/our brother, 

I'll only say, Go by!] Tliis is an allusion to The Spanish 
Tragedy ; the con'^l.int butt of all writers of those time', 
who seem to be a little nneasy, notwithstanding their scoSs, 
at its popularity. 'Md Jeroniiuo, however, ke|>( Uu |;r(Kiatf 



dCKNS L] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



U7 



He may grnze where he please ; his lips may water 
Like a puppy's o'er ii f'jnneiity pot, wiiile SylH. 
Out of his two-leavtd cherry-stone dish, drinks 

nectar ! 
I camiot hold out any long:er ; luaven forj^ive me ! 
"lis not the first oath 1 have broke; I must take 
A little lor a preparative. 

[^Offers to kiss and embrace her. 

Cam. Bv no means 
If vou forswear yourself, we shall not prosper : 
I'll r.ither lose my longing. 

6t/^. I'retty soul! 
How ciireful it is of me ! let me buss yet 
Thy little dainty foot for't : that, I'm sure is 
Dut of my oath. 

Cam. Why, if thou canst dispense wiih't 
So Car, I'll not be sciu|>ulous ; such a ftivour 
My amorous slioemaker stt-als. 

Stil. O most rare leather ! [ft'isse* her shoe often. 
I do begin at the lowest, but in time 
I may grow ]iij;her. 

Cum. Kie ! you dwell too long there ; 
Rise, prithee rise. 

Syl. O, 1 am up already. 

Enter Clarinda hastily. 

Cam. How I abuse my hours ! — What news with 
thee, now ? [promise : 

Clar. Off with that gown, 'tis mine ; mine by your 
Signor Adorni is return'd ! now upon entrance ! 
Off with it, off with it, madam ! 

Cam. Be not so hasty : 
When I 1^0 to bed, 'tis thine. 

Syl. You have my grant too ; 
But, do you hear, lady, though I give way to this, 
You must hereafter ask my leave, before 
You part with things of moment. 

Cam. Very good ; 
When I'm yours, I'll be govern'd. 

Syl. Sweet obedience ! 

Enter Adorni. 

Cam. You are well return'd. 

Ador. 1 wish that the success 
Of my service had deserved it. 

Cam. Lives Bertoldo? 

Ador, Yes ; and return'd wilh safety. 

Cam. 'Tis not then 
In the power of fate to add to, or take from 
My perfect happiness ; and yet — he should 
Have made me his first visit. 

Ador. So 1 think too. 
But he 

Syl. Durst not appear, I being present ; 
That's his excuse, I warrant you. 

Cam. Speak, where is hel 
With whom? who hath deserved more from him? or 
Can be of equal merit? 1 in this 
Do not except the king. 

Ador. He's at the palace, 



till the general convulsion, when he sunk, with a thousand 
belter tliini's, to rise no more. 

What hold lie once had of the public mind may be col- 
lected trom an anecdote in that str.iiit;e medley by Prynne, 
which, by the way, contains nion- libjldry in a lew pages, 
than is To be found in lialf the [il.iys he reprobates. He 
there Itlls us of a l.idy who, on her death-bed, instead of 
attciulin<; to the priest, " ciieil out nothing but Jeroiiimol 
Jcruniiiuil"— and died in this reprobate slate, " thiuliiiig of 
nolhiiii; but playi." 

Hittriomattix. 



With the duchess of Sienna, One coach brought 

them hither, 
Without a third : he's very gracious with her; 
You may corceive the rest. 

Cum. iMy jealous fears 
Make me to apprehend. 

Ador. Pray you, dismiss 
Sigiiior wisdom, and I'll make relation to you 
Of the particulars. 

Cam. Servant, 1 would have you 
To haste unto the court. 

Syi. 1 will outrun 
A footman, for your pleasure. 

Cam. There observe 
The duchess' train and entertainment. 

i>yl. Fear not ; 
I will discover all that is of weight, 
To the liveries of her pages and her footmen. 
This is fit employment lor me. £E«»f. 

Cam. Gracious with 
The duchess! sure, you said so? 

Ador. I will use 
All possible brevity to inform you, madam, 
Of what was trusted to me, and discharged 
With faith and loyal duty. 

Ca»n. I believe it ; 
You ransome<i him, and supplied his wants — ima- 
That is already spoken ; and what vows [§>'»•. 

Of service he made to me, is apparent; 
His jov of me, and wonder too, perspicuous; 
Does not your story end so? 

^</ftr. VVould the end 
Had answered the beginning! — In a word. 
Ingratitude and perjury at the height 
Cannot express him. 

Cum. 'lake heed. 

Ad<T. Truth is arm'd. 
And can defend itself. It must out, madam . 
I saw (the presence full) the amorous duchess 
Kiss anil embrace him ; on his part accepted 
With equal ardour, and their willing hands 
No sooner join'd, but a lemove was publish'd 
And put in execution. 

Cam. 'Llie proofs are 
Too pregnant. O Bertoldo ! 

Ador. He's not worth 
Your sorrow, madam. 

Cum. Tell nie, when you saw this, 
Did not you grieve, as 1 do now to hear it? 

Ador. His precipice from goodness raising mine. 
And i-erving as alod to set my faith off, 
I had little reason. 

Cum. In this you confess 
The devilish malice of your disposition. 
As vou were a man, you stood bound to lament it; 
And not, in flattery of your false hopes, 
To glory in it. When good men pursue 
The path mark'd out by virtue, the blest saint* i 
With joy look on it, and heraphic angels 
Clap their celestial wings in Jieavenly plaudits, 
To see a scene of grace so well presented. 
The fiends, and men made up of envy, mourniug<. 
Whereas now, on the contrary, as far 
As their divinity can partake of passion. 
Wilh me thev weep, beholding a fair temple. 
Built in Bertoldo's loyalty, turn'd to ashes 
By the flames of his inconstancy, tlie damn'd 
ifcejuiciiig in the object. — 'lis not well 
In you, Adorni. 

Adt>r. W hat a temper dwells 



UB 



THE MAID OF HOxNOUR. 



[ActV 



In this rare virgin ! Can you pity bim, 
That liath shown none to you ? 

Cam. 1 must not be 
Cruel by his example. You, perhaps, 
Expect now I should seek recovery 
Of what I have lost, bv teai's, ihitl witii bent knees 
Beg- his compassion. No ; my towering virtue. 
From (he assurance of my merit, scorns 
To stoop so low. I'll tike a nobler course, 
And, confident in the justice of my cause, 
The king his brother, and new mistress, judges, 
Ravidh iiim from her arms. Vou have (be contract, 
In which he swore to marry me? 

Ador. 'Tis here, madam. [band ; 

Cum. He shall be, then, against his will, my hus- 
And when I have hi.ii, I'll so use him ! — doubt not. 
But that, your honesty being un(|uestion'd, 
.This writing, with your testimony, clears all. 

Ador. And buries me in the dark mists of error. 

Cam- I'll presently to court ; pi ay you, give order 
Fcm my caroch*. 

Ador. A cart for me were fitter, 
To hurry me to the gallows. [Exit. 

Ciim. O false men ! 
Inconstant ! perjured I My good angel help me 
In these my extremities ! 

Re-enter Sylli. 

Syl. If you e'er will see a brave sight, 
Lose it not now, Bertoldo and the duchess 
Are presently to be married : there's such pomp. 
And preparation ! 

Cum. If I marry, 'tis 
This day, or never. 

Si/i. Why, with all my heart ; 
Though I break this, I'll keep the next oath I make, 
And then it is quit. 

Cam. Hollow m» (o my cabinet ; 
Vou know my confessor, father Paulo ? 

Syl. Yes : shall he 
Do the feat for us 1 

Cam. I will give in writing 
Directions to him, and attire myself 
Like a virgin bride ; and something I will do, 
That shall deserve men's praise, and wonder too. 

Syl. And I, to make all know 1 am not shallow. 
Will have my points of cochine-d and yellow. 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — The same. A State-room in the Palace. 
Loud Music. Eiiter Robekto, Berioi.do, Auuelia, 

FeKDINAND, AsiUTlO, CioNZAGA, RoDERlGO, Ja- 

COMO, PiERio, a Bishop, and Attendants. 

Bob. Had our division been greater, madam, 
Your clemency, the wrong being done to you, 
In pardon of it, like the rod of concord, 
Must make a perfect union. Once more, 
With a brotherly affection, we receive you 
Into our favour : let it be your study 
Hereaft«r to deserve this blessino-, far 
Be\ond your merit. 

Bert. As the princess' grace 
To me is without limit, my endeavours, 



• /''or tny. caroch.] It ?ftnis as if Massinger's editors were 
ignorant of the (■xisteiicf or meauiiii; ot sncli a word as 
taroch ; fince ihey exchange it for cvuch, though it iuvariu- 
bly des''■^ys the metre. 



With all obsetjuiousness to serve her pleasures, 
Shall know no bounds: nor wild 1, being made 
Her husband, e'er forget the duty that 
I owe her as a servant. 

Anrel. 1 expect not 
But fair etiuality, since I well know. 
If that su]ieriority be due, 

'Ts not to me. When you are made my consort. 
All the prerogatives of my high birth cancell'd, 
I'll ])ractise the obedience of a wife, 
And freelv pav it. Queens themselves, if they 
Make choice of their inferiors, only aiming 
To feed their sensual appetites, and to reign 
Over their, husbands, in some kind commit 
Authorized whoredom ; nor will I be guilty. 
In my intent, of such a crime. 

GoHz. This done. 
As it is promised, madam, may well stand for 
A precedent to great women : but, when once 
The griping liunger of ilesire is cloy'd, 
And the poor fuol advanced, brought on his knees. 
Most of your e-.igle breed, I'll not say all. 
Ever excepting )ou, challenge again 
What, ill hot blood, they parted from. 

Aurel. You are ever 
An eneinv of our sex ; but you, I hope, sir, 
Have better thoughts. 

J5er(. 1 dare not entertain 
An ill one of your goodness. 

Rob. To my power 
I will enable him, to prevent all danger 
Envy can raise against your choice. One word laon 
Touching the articles. 

Enter fui.GVNTio, Camiola, Sylii, and Adorni. 
Fill. In you alone 
Lie all my hopes ; you can or kill or save me ; 
But pity in you will bei ome you better 
(Though 1 confess in justice 'tis denied me) 
Than too much rigour. 

Cum. I will make your peace 
As far as it lies in me ; but must first 
Labour to right myself. 

Aurel. Or add or alter 
What you think fit ; in liim I have my all . 
Heaven make me thanklul for him ! 
Rob. On to the temi)le. 

Cam, Slav, royal sir : and as you are a king. 
Erect one* here, in doing justice to 
An injured maid 
Auiel. How's this? 
Bert. O, I nm blasted ! 

Rob. I have given some proof, sweet lady, ol 
my pronip(ness .. 
To do you right, you need not, therefore, doubt me; 
And rest assured, that, this great work disi)atch'd, 
You shall have audience, and satisfaction 
To all you can demand. 

Cum. To do me justice 
Exacts your present care, and can admit 
Of no delay. If, ere mv cause be heard. 
In favour of your brother you go on, sir, 
Your cceptre cannot right me. He's the man. 
The guilty ntan, w hom I accuse ; and you 
Stand bound in duty, as you are supreme, 
I'o be impartial. Since you are a judge. 
As a delinquent look on him, and not 
As on a brother : Justice, painted blind, 

• J^reci one here,] i..e. a temple. M. Ma^oh. 



SCKNP. II.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR 



349 



Infers her ministers are obliged to bear 

The cause, and truth, tlie jiidu;p, deieriiiine of it; 

And not swiiy'd or by favour or affection, 

By a false f;loss, or wrested comment, alter 

The true intent and letter of the law. 

Roll. Nor will 1, madam. 

Aurel. Voii seem trouble.!, sir, 

Gonz. His colour changes too. 

Cam. The alteration 
Grows from his guilt. The goodness of my cause 
Begets such confidence in me, that I brinp^ 
No hired tongue to j)lead for me. that with gay 
Rhetorical flouri.shps may palliate 
That which, .^tiipp'd nakecl, will appear deform'd. 
1 stand here mine own advocate ; and my truth, 
Deliver'd in the plainest language, will 
Make good itself ; nor will I, if the king 
Give suffrage to it, but admit of you, 
My greatest enemy, and this stranger prince, 
To sit assistants with him. 

Aurel. 1 ne'er wrong'd you. . [it. 

Cam. In your knowledge of the injury, I believe 
Nor willyou.iii your justice, when you are 
Acquainted with my interest in this man, 
Which I lay claim to. 

Roh. Let us take our seats. 
What is your title to him? 

Cam. Bv this contract, 
Seal'd solemnly before a reverend man, 

[Piesp/iis a paper to the king. 
I challenge him for my husband. 

Sul. Ha ! was I 
Sent for the friar for this T O Sylli! Sylli! 
Some cordial, or I faint*. 

Riih. '1 Ids writing is 
Authentical. 

Aurel. IJut done in heat of blo^d, 
Charm 'd by her flatteries, as, no doubt, he was. 
To be dis]iensed with. 

Fer. Add liiis, if you^ilease. 
The distance and dispariry between 
Their birtiis and fortunes. 

Cum. What can Innocen'e hope for, 
When such as sit her judj,es are fonuj)ted ! 
Disjiarity of birth or fortune, urge vou? 
Or syren charms? or, at his best, in me 
Wants to deserve him ? Call some few days back, 
And, as he was, consider him, and you 
Must grant liim my inferior. Inuigine 
You saw him now in leitt^rs, with his honour. 
His libei ty lost ; with her black wings Uespair 
Circling his miseries, and this Gonzaga 
Tramj)ling on his afflictions ; the great sum 
Pr(i])osed for his redemption ; the king 
Forbidding jiayment of it ; his near kinsmen, 
With his protesting followers and fntiids. 
Falling oft" from him ; by the whole world forsaken; 
Dead to all ho])e, and buried in the grave 
Of his calamities ; and then weigh duly 
What she deserved, whose merits now are doubted, 
That, as his better angel, in he-r bounties 
Appear'd unio him, his great ransome jiaid, 
His wants, and with a prodigal hand, supplied; 
Whether, then, being my manumised slave. 
He owed not himself to me ? 

Aurei. Is this true ? 

Rob. In his silence 'tis acknowledged. 



• .S'ome cardial, or I faint.] Wholly omitted lo Mr. M. 
Uason't Kdittuo. 



Ganz. If vou want 
A witness to this purpo.-e, I'll depose it. 

Cam. If I hive dwelt too long on my deservings 
To this unthankful man, prav you pardon me, 
The cause required it. And though now I add 
A little, in mv painting to the life 
His barbarous ingratitude, to deter ^ 
Others from imitation, let it meet with 
A fair interpretation. This serpent. 
Frozen to numbness, was no sooner warm'd 
In the bosom of my pity and compassion. 
But, in return, he ruin'd his preserver, 
1 he prints the irons had made in his flesh 
Still ulcerous ; but all that I had done. 
My benefits, in sand or water written. 
As fliey had never been, no more remember 'd! 
And on wiiat ground but his ambitious hopes 
To gain this duches's' favour J 

Aurel. Ves; the object. 
Look on it better, ladv.may excuse 
Tiie change of his affection. 

Cam. The object ! 
In what ? forgive me, modesty, if I say 
Vou look upon your form in the false glass 
Of flattery and self-love, and that deceives you. 
That you were a duchess, as I take it, was not 
Character'd on yi.ur face ; and, that not seen, 
For other feature, make all these, that are 
Experienced in women, judges of them. 
And, if they are not parasites, they must grant. 
For beauty without art, though you storm at it, 
I may take the right-hand file. 

Gonz. Well >aid, i'faith ! 
I see fair women on no terms will yield ' 

Priority in hi'auty. 

Cam. Down, |>rond heart! 
Why do 1 riseiip in defence of that, 
Which, in mv cherishing of it, liath undone mel 
No, ma am, I recant, — y<.u are all beauty, 
Goodness, and virtue ; and poor I not worthy 
As a foil to set vou oft" : enjoy your conquest ; 
But do not tyrannize. ^ et, as I am [m*, 

hi my lowTiess, from your height you may look ov 
And. in your suffrage to me, make him know 
That, though to all men else I did apjiear 
The sliiime and scorn ofwcinen, he stands bound 
'i'o hold me as the masterpiece. 

Roh. By my liie, 
You have shewn yourself of such an abject temper, 
So poor and low-condition'd, as 1 grieve for 
Your nearness to me. 

Fer. 1 am changed in my 
Opinion of you, lady; and profess 
The virtues of your mind an ample fortune 
For an absolute monarch. 

Gonz. Since you are resolved 
To damn yourself, in your forsaking of 
Your noble onler for a woman, do it 
For this. You may search through the world and 
With i-uih another phenix. [meet not 

Aurel. On the sudden 
I feel all fires of love quenched in the water 
Ofmy tompasiion. Make your peace ; you have 
My tree consent ; for here 1 do disclaim 
All interest in vou : and, to further your 
Desires, fair maid, composed of worth and Lonourt 
The dispensation procured by me. 
Freeing Bertoldo from his vow, makes way 
To your embraces. 

Bert. Oh, how have I stray'd. 



850 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



[Act V. 



And, wilfully, out of the noble trnck 

MarkM me by virtue ! till now I \va5 never 

Truly n prisoner. To exiuseniy bite 

Captivity, 1 might allege the malice 

Of Fortune; you, that con(]UPr'(i me, confessing 

Courage in my defence was no way wanting. 

But now I h:ive surrender'd up my strengths 

Into the power of Vice, and on my fureheud 

Brande<l, with mine own hand, in capital letters, 

Disloyal and ingrateful. Tiiough barr'd from 

Human society, and hiss'd into 

Some desert ne'er yet haunted with the curses 

Of men and women, sitting as a judge 

Upon my guilty self, 1 must confess 

It justly falls upon me ; and one tear. 

Shed in compassion of my sufferings, more 

Than 1 can hope for. 

Cam. This com])unction [sboii'd 

For the wrong that you have done me, though you 
Fix here, and your true sorrow move no tur.her, 
Will, in resjiect 1 loved once, make tiiese eyes 
Two S|)rmgs of sorrow for you. 

Bert. In your pity 
My cruelty shows more monstrous ; yet I am not. 
Though most ingrateful, grown to such a height 
Of impudence, as, in. my wi>.hes only. 
To ask your pardon. If, as now, 1 fall 
Prostrate before your feet, you will vouchsafe 
To act your own levenge, treading upon me 
As a viper eating thiough the liowels of 
Yotir benefits, to wliom, with liberty, 
I owe my l)eing, 'twill take from the burthen 
That now is insupportable. 

Cam, Pray you, rise ; 
As 1 wish peace and quiet to my soul, 
I do fiTgive you hearti.y ; yet excuse me, 
Though 1 deny myself a blessing that, 
•By the favour of the duchess, seconded 
With your submission, is offered to me ; 
Let not the reason I allege for't grieve you, 
You have been false once. 1 have done : and if. 
When I am married, as this day I will be^ 
Asa perfect sign of your atonement with me. 
Yon wish me joy, I will receive it for 
Full satisfaction of all obligativns 
In which you stand bound to me. 

Bert. I will <lo it. 
And, what's more, in despite of sorrow, live 
To see myself undone, beyond all hope 
To b« made up again. 

iiyl. AJy blood begins 
To come to my heart again. 

Cum. Pray you, ssiguior Sylli, 
Call in the holy friar ; he's j>repared 
For finishing the work. 

Syt. I knew I was 
The man : heaven make me thankful ! 

Rob. Who is this? 

Ast. His father was the banker* of Palermo, 
And this the heir of his great wealth : Lis wisdom 
Was not hereditary. 

S;il. Though you know me not. 
Your majesty owes me a round sum : I have 
A seal or two to witness ; yet, if you ])lease 



• Ast. His father was the banki-r nf Palrrmo,] Never 
was llirre miiIi a cupy ot' an ainlidr a.'* 'that ol Mas>in!;er by 
Wr. M. Masmi. Jii.«l above, liedinpi a iiioikoj liable to 
»|)(iil the inctie; here he lia» iii>eitc(l one for ihe fame 
n-asiiii: at lea^t I can liud nu otlitr. Hf reads, the great 
banket of Patermo, 



'I'o wear my colours and dance at my wedding 
I'll never sue von. 

Bob. An 1 I'll grant vour suit. 

Si)l. (jrauious inailonn;i, noble general, 
Brive captains, and my (piondam rival ■■, wear them. 
Since I atn confident you dare no^ hai-bour 
A thought b If th:it way curren'. {Exit. 

Aurel. For mv part, 
I cannot guess the issue. 

lir-eiiier Syi.i.i with Father Pavlo. 

Syl. Do your duty ; 
And with all speed you can you may di:patcli us. 

Paul, Thus, as a principal ornament to the church, 
1 seize her. 

All. How! 

Ri)h So young, and so religious ! 

Paul. She has forso.ik the world. 

Sul. And Sylli too ! 
I shall run mad. 

Rob. Hence with the fool! — [Sylli thrust o^.]— 
Proceed, Sir. 

Pai'l. Look on this .Maid of HoNOun, now 
Truly honour'd in her vow 
She pays to heaven : vain delight 
Bv day, or pleasure of the night 
She no more thinks of: 1 his fair Lair 
( Favours for great kings to wear) 
Must now be shorn ; her rich array 
Changed into a homely gray. 
The dainties wi h which she was fed. 
And her proud flesh pampered, 
i\Iust not be tasted ; from the spring, 
For wine, cold water we w:ll bring. 
And with fasting mortify 
The feasts of sensuality. 
Hei jewels, beads ; and she must look 
Not in a glass, but holy book ; 

To teach her the ne'er-er.ing way i 

To immortality. O may 
She,, as she purposes to be 
A child new-born to piety, 
Persever* in it, and good men. 
With saints and angels, say. Amen I 

Cam. I his is the marriage ! this the port to which 
My vows must steer me ! Fill my sj>reading sails 
With the jiure wind of vour de,V(ptions for me, 
That I may touch the secure haven, where 
F.ternal liajipiness keejis her residence, 
Temptations to frailty never entering ! 
] am dead to the world, and thus dispose 
Of what I leave behind me ; and, dividing 
My state into three parts, I thus bequeath it: 
The fiist to the fair nnnnerv, to which 
I dedicate the last and better part 
Of my frail life ; a second ))ortion 
To pious yses ; and the third to thee, 
Adorni, for thy true and faithful service. 
And. ere 1 take my last farewell, with hope 
JO find a grant, my suit to you is, that 
You would, for my sake, pardon this young man. 
And to bis merits love him, and no further. 

Rob. 1 thus confirm it. 

[Oii)« his hand to Fiilgentio. 

Cam. And, Ss e'er you hope, [To Bertoldo. 

Like me, to be made happy, I conjure you 
To reassume your order ; and in fighting 



* Per.^tvfr in it,\ This is the snoond lime »lie editors have 
fnoiU riiistd peisevfir iiilo persevere, to the destrucliou o( Oi» 
verse. See Virgin Martyr, Act 1. Scene j. 



Scene II.] 



THE MAID OF HONOUR. 



951 



Bravely against the enemies of our faith. 
Redeem your mortgaged honour. 

Goiiz. 1 restore this : f GiuM him the v-hite cross. 
Once more, brothers in arms. 

Bert. I'll live and die so. 

Cam. To you my pious wishes ! And, to end 
All differences, great sir, I beseech you 
To be an arbitrator, and compound 
The quarrel long continuing between 
The duke and duchess. 

Rob. I will fake it into 
My special care. 



Cam. 1 am then at rest. Now, father. 
Conduit me where you please. 

\_Exeunt Paulo Mid Camiola 

Rob, She well deserves 
Her name, 'J'he Maid of Honour ! May she stand, 
'I'o all posterity, a fair example 
For noble maids to imitate ! Since to live 
In wealth and pleasure's common, but to part with 
Such poison'd baits is rare ; there being nothing 
Upon this stage of life to be commended. 
Though well begun, till it be fully ended. 

IFluuriih. Exeitnt*. 



• This is of the higher order of Massinger's plays : nor 
will it be \e.'y e.isy lo fiiitl in any writer h subject more 
aniinateil, Of cliar.ccters mure variously and pointedly drawn. 
There is no delay in iiiliuduciiig tiie business ot the drama ; 
and nutliing is allow e<l to interlcie with its progress. In- 
deed this is by far too rapid ; and event is preoipitate<l upon 
event without regard lo time or place. Hut Massinger acts 
with a liberty which ii would be absurd to criticise, 'i'hebes 
and Athens, Palermo air.l Vienna, aie alike lo him; and he 
must be allowed to transport his agents and iheir concerns 
from one. to another, as i>fien as the exigencies of his am- 
bulatory plan may require. 

It is ob.'-ervalile, tliat ill this play Massinger has attempted 
the more ditluiill part of diamalic writing. He is not con- 
tent with dcsciibiiig ditlereiit qualities in his cliai4cters; 
but lays before the leader several dirtcrenccs of the same 
qualities. 'J he coiuai;e of Gonzaga, though by no me.ins 
inferior to it, is not that of Bertoldo. In the former, it is 
a fixed and habitual principle, tlie honourable business of 
his life. In the latter, it is an irrasislible impulse, tiie in- 
stantaneous result of a heiy leiiiper. Boih characters are 
again dittinguislied uom Kuderigo and Jacomo. The^e too 
have Courage : but we cannot separate it from a mere vulgar 
motive, the love of plunder ; and in this respect Gonziga's 
captains lomible tlio-e of Charles in '/'he Duke of Milan. 
There is siill anoilnr rejiiove; and all these branches of 
real coura'^e ditie! firoMi the poor and forced approaches to 
valour in G.isparo and Antonio. These ilistinclions were 
strongly fise<l in iMa'r^inger's mind: lest they sluiuld pass 
without due observation, hi- has made: Gonzaga point out 
BOme of them, Act II. sc. .'. : and Hertoldo dwells upon 
others. Act 111. sc. I. And in thjs respect, again, he has 
copied his own caution, already noticed in the Observaiions 
on The licneyailo. A broader distinction is used wiih his 
two conrliirs; and the rolil intereijt of Astutio is fully con- 
traste<l with ihe dazzling and imprudent assumption of 
Fulgentio. But Camiola herself is the great object that 
reigns tliiouihout the piece, i'veiy wlieie she animales us 
with her spirit, ami inslnirts us with her sense. Yet this 
•uperinnty takes nothing from her softer feelings. Her 
tears 11.. w witli a mingled fondness and regret ; and she is 
swayed by a passion wtiiih is only quelled by her greater 
resoliilion. The intluenee of hei character is also height- 
ened through Iheditteiint manner of !'er lovers; through 
the mad impatience of the uncontrolled Bertoldo, the glit- 
terin|2 pretensions of Fulgentio, and the humble and sincere 



attachment of Adorni, who nourishes secret desires of an 
happiness too exalted lor him, laiihfiilly pertoiinscoiiwnands 
prejudicial to his own views, through the force of an altection 
which ensures his obedience, and, amidst so mncli service, 
scarcely presumes to hint the passion which consumes him. 
1 know not if even signior Sylli is wholly useless here ; be 
serves at least to show her good-hunioiiieii toleration of a 
being hardly imporiant enough for her contempt. 

In the midst of this just praise of Camiola, there are a 
few thini;s to be regretted. Reason and religion had lor- 
bidden her union with Bertoldo; and she had declared her- 
self unallerable in her purpose. His captivity reverses her 
judgment, and slie determines ni>t only to liberate, but to 
marry him. Unfortunately, too, she demands a sealed con- 
tract as the conditiiui of his freedom; though Btitoldo'i 
ardour was alrtady known to her, and the gtneiosity other 
nature ought to have abstained from so degr.uling a bargain. 
But Massinger Wanted to hinder the mariiaceof Auielii; and, 
with an infelicity which attends many of his contrivances, 
he provided a prior contract at the expense of the delicacy, 
as well as the principles, of his heroine. It is well, that 
the nobleness of ihe conclusion throws the veil over these 
blemi lies. Her determination is at once natur.d and unex- 
pected. It answers to the original ind.peiidence of her 
character, and she retires with our highest admiration and 
esteem. 

It may be observed here, that Massinger was not un 
known to Milton. The date of some of Milton s early 
poems, indeed, is not txacil) a'^ceitiined : but if the reader 
will compare the speech of Paulo, with the I'enseroso, he 
cannot tail lo remark a similarity in the cadences, as well 
as in the measure and the solemni y of the llioughts. On 
many other occasions he ceitainly remeinbeis Massinger, 
and frequently in his representations of female purity, and 
Ihe commanding digniiy of virtue. 

A noble lesson arises from the conduct of the principal 
character. .\ fixed sense of truth and reciiiude gives 
genuine superiority; it corrects the proud, and abashes the 
vain, and maiks the proper limi's between humility and 
presumption. It also governs it.-elf wiih the same a»- 
eendancy which it establishes over others. V\ hen the law 
I'ul objects of life cannot be possessed with clearness of 
honour, it provides a nobler plcasiiie in rising above their 
atiraciion, and creates a new happiness by coiiiioUiu); eveo 
innocent desires.— Du. IKELANU. 



THE PIOTUEE. 



The Pictuhe.] This Tragi-comedy, or, as Massinsjer culls it, tliis " true Hungarian Hi&fory," was licensed 
by Sir H. Herbert, June 8tli, 1629. The |)lot, as The Ciwipauhm to the Playhouse observes, is from the 28tb 
fiovel of the second volume of Painter's Palnceof I'^euiitre, 1567. 'I'he mauical circumstance, however, 
from whicli the play takes its name, is found in a variety of iiuthors : it has all (he a])iieorance of at» Arabian 
fiction, an<i was introduced into our romances at a very early period. The following stanza is from a poem 
of the fourteenth century, called Horn Chi Ida and Maiden liimnild, first given to the press by Mr. ilitsoa*. 

" To Rimneld he com wiihouten le^ing 
And sche bitaught liirn a ring 

The vertu wele sciie knew : 
' Loke thou forsake it for no thing 
It schal ben our tokening, 

Tlie ston it is wel trewe. 
When the ston wexetli wan, ^ 
Tiian chaungeth tlie thought of thi leman, 

Take then a newe ; 
Wlieii the ston wexeth rede 
Than have v lorn mi maideiihed, , 

Oyaines the untrewe.' " 

The immediate source of the story was the Koveile of Randello, since exceedingly popular. Massinger, 
however, has made some slight variation — there is no tempiatioii of Ulric (the iMathias of the phiy) and 
very little of his lady. 'J"he knights are secured as fist as thev arrive at her castle ; and the Picture conse- 
quently maintains its jjosition. From the same source, G. Whitston dt-iived the tale of Ulrico and Lady 
Barbara, in his Poch of liegard, wliich Massinger appears to liave read. The stoiv is also to be found 
among the Novelles Gatlautes; but thev liad the same origin, and it is altogether unrieres^ary to enter into 
their resjiec tive variations. The French have modernized it into a pretty tale, under ihe name of Commeiit 
Hler parjait Amour. 

This Pliiv was much approved at its first appearance, when it was acted, as the phrase is, by the whole 
strength of the house. JNJassinger himself speaks of it with complacency ; and, indeed, its claims to admi- 
ration are of no common kind. It was printed in 16.S(); but did not reach a second edition. It is said, in 
the title-page, to have been " often presented at the Globe and Black Friar's playhouses, by the King's 
Majesty's servants." 

An unsuccessful attempt was made to revive this Play, by the Rev. Henry Bate ; M(ig7us excidit autiil 
We tolerate no magic new but Shakspeare's ; and without it The Picture can have no interest. 



TO MY nONOURED AND SELECTED FRIENDS OF THE 

NOBLE SOCIETY OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 

It maybe objected, my not inscribing their names, or titles, to whom I dedicate this poem, proceedeth 
•ither from mv diffidence of their aftection to me, or their unwillingness to be jiublished the patrons of a 
trifle. 'Jo such as sliall make so strict an inquisition of me, 1 truly answer. The play, in the i)ersentment, 
found such e general approbation, tliat it gave me assurance of their favour to whose protection it is now 
eacred ; and they have ]>rofessed they so sincerely allow of it, and the maker, that they would have 
freely granted that in tlie publication, which, for some reasons, I denied myself. One, and that is a main 
one; 1 had rather enjoy (as I have done) the real proofs of their friendship, than, mountebank-like, boast 
their numbers in a catalogue. Accept it, noble Gentlemen, as a confirmation of his service, who hath 
nothing else to assure you, and witness to the world, how much he stands ergaged for your so frequent 
bounties, and in your charitable opinion of rae believe, that you now may, and shallever, command 

Your servant , 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 



Scene I.] 



THE PICTURE. 



259 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Ladislai's, hin^ of Hungary, 

Fehdinanu, general, of the army, 

El'bui.is, (III old counsettor, 

Maiiiias, a knight of Bohemia, 

Ubaldo I ... 

T) 1 uild courtiers, 

KlCAHDO, ■ 

Julio ByiPrisxA, « great scholar, 

HiLAiuf), senaiit to Sophia. 

Two Boijs, " epreseiUiiig A\>o\]o and 

Two Ccuriert. 



Actors' Names. 

R. Benfield. 

R. Sharpe. 
J. Lowin. 
J. Taylc""- 
T. Pdllard. 
E. Suiiastone. 
W. I'en. 
J. Shancke. 



A Guide. 

Servants to the queen. 

Servants to MatUias. 

HoNORiA, the queen, 
Sophia, wife lo Mathias, 

ACANTHE, ) . , ,. , 

c, 1 mains of honour, 

SYLVIA, ) ' 

CoRiscA, Sophia's woman. 



Acton' yiane*. 



.). Thomson. 
J. Hunnieman 
A. Gofie. 



W. Trigge. 
Maskers, Attendants, Officers, Captains, Ifc, 
SCENE, partly in Hungary, and partly in Bohemia. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— The Frontiers of Bohemia. 

Enter IMaiuias, Sophia, Coiusca, Hilario, with 
other Seriaiits. 

Miith. Since we must part, SophiH, to pass further 
Is not alone im])ertinent. but (lnii<i>rous. 
We are not diitaiit from the Tiirkisli camp 
Above five leajiues, and xviio knows but some party 
Of liis '1 iniariots*, ihat scour ii)e couniry, 
May llill upon us? — be now, as thy name. 
Truly interpreted, hah ever sjjoke thee. 
\\ise and discnet ; and to thy undersiaiiding 
Many lliv constant patience. 

Soph. Vdu put me, sir. 
To the utmost trial of it. 

Maih. ^>i a V, no melting ; 
Since I lie necessity that now separates us. 
We have long- since disputed, and the rea>ons, 
Forcing me to it, too oft wash'd in tears. 
I grant th;i; you, in birth, were far above me, 
Anil •;reiit men, my superiors, rivals ibr vou ; 
But niiilu;i! consent of lieart, as hiinds, 
Toin'd hy true love, liath made us one, and equal : 
Nor is it ill me mere dfsiri' of fame. 
Or to be cried up by the public voice. 
For a br.ive soldier, that puts on my armour : 
Such airy tumours take not me. S ou know 
How narrow our ilemeans aref, and, what's more, 
Having as yet no charge of children on us. 
We hardly can sub.-ist. 

Soph. In you alone, sir, 
I have all abundance. 

JU(((/(. For my mind's content. 
In your own language I could answer you. 
You have been an obedient wife, a right one ; 
And 10 my power, though shoit of your desert, 
I have been ever an indulgent husband. 
We have long enjoy 'd the sweets of love, and though 



• TimHiiots are tlie Tinkish Cavaliy, a sort iif feudal 
veoiiiaiuj, «ho liulii tlieir lauds on comlilion ol sirvice. 

// uiv narrow our (lcMiita:is are,\ Demeans is litre used 
for means, as demerits for merits, &c. 



Not to satiety, or loathing, vet 

We must not live such dotards on our pleasures. 

As still to hug them to the certain loss 

Of profit imd preferment. Competent means 

Maintains a (piiet bed; want breeds disseusion. 

Even in good women. 

Soph. Have you found in me, sir, 
Any distaste, cm- sign of discontent, 
For want of what's superfluous? 

Math. No, Sophia ; 
Nor shalt thou ever have cause to repent 
1 hy constant course in goodness, if heaven bless 
My honest uiulei takings. 'Tis for thee 
'J'liat 1 turn >oiilier, anil | ut forth, dearest. 
Upon this sia ol action, as a factor. 
To trade for rich materials to adorn 
Thv noble jiarts, and show them in full lustre. 
I blush that other ladies, less in beauty 
And outward lorni, but in the harmony 
Of the soul's ravishing music, the same age 
Not to be iiaiiK d with thee, should so outshine thea 
In jewels, and variety of wardrobes ; 
^Vhile you, t'l wlmse swiet innocence both Indies 
Compared, nre of no value, wanting these. 
Pass unrei;ar(led. 

Soph. If I am so rich, or 
In your opinion, why should you borrow 
Additions tor ine ? 

Math. W hy ! 1 should be censured 
Of ignorance, possessing such a jewel 
Above all ; rice, if 1 forbear to give it ' 
The best of ornaments: therefore, Sophia, 
In few words know my jileasiire, and obey me, 
As you have evi r done. 'I'o yunr discretion 
I leave the govt rnment of my family, 
And our jioor fortunes ; and from these command 
Obedience to \ou, as to myself: 
'J'o the utmost of what's mine, live plentifully j 
And, ere the remnant of our store be spent. 
With my good sword I hope I shall reap for you 
A harvest in such full abundance, as 
Shall make a meiry >\ inter. 

Soph. S.nce yuu are not 



tM 



THE PICTURE. 



[Acr.l, 



To be diverted, sir, from what you purpose, 

All arouments to stay you here are useless : [not 

Go wiien you please, sir. Eyes, I cluir.ne you waste 

One drop of sorrow ; look you hoard all up 

Till in my widovt'd bed 1 call upon you. 

But then be sure you fail not. \ ou blest angels. 

Guardians of human life, 1 at this instant 

Forbear t'invoke vou . at our parting-, 'twere 

To personate devotion*. My soul 

Shall go along witli you, and, when you are 

Circled wiih death and horror, seek and find j'ou : 

And then 1 will not leave a saint unsued to 

For your protection. 'I'o tell you what 

I will do in your absence, would show poorly ;" 

My actions shall s[)eak for me; 'twere to doubt ou 

To beg I mav hear fiom you . where you are 

You cannot live obscure, nor shall one post, 

By night or day, ])ass unexamined by me. 

If I dwell long upon your lips, considei-. 

After this feast, the griping fast that follows, 

And it will be excusahle; pray turn from me. 

All that 1 can, is spoken. [Exit. 

Math. Follow your mistress. 
Forbear your wishes for me ; let me find them 
At my return, in your prompt will to serve her. 

Mil. For my part, sir, 1 will grow lean with study 
To make her merry. 

Coris. Though you are my lord, 
Yet being her gentb woman, by my place 
I may tnke mv leave; your hand, or, if you please 
To have nie fight so high, I'll not be coy. 
But stand a-tip-toe forV. 

Math. 0, f-irew ell, gill! [Kisses her. 

Hil. A kiss well begg'd, Cf^risca. 

Coris. 'Twas niv f*e ; 
Love, how he inelisf! 1 cannot blame my lady's 
Unwillingness to part wiili such marinaiade lips. 
There will be scrambling for them in the camp ; 
And were it not for iiiy honesty, i could wish now 
1 were his leaguer laundress^ ; 1 would- find 



• 7'3 persniiHte devotiim.] i. p. ti> pl^y it a"! an assnmcd 
part. Sif (Ireat Duke of t'loience. Ail IV. Sc. 2. 

+ Love, hom he melts.'] So Ilie qiiailo: ilii- modern edi- 
tions li.ivf, Jnve, how he melts. W liy Coxeler inadv llie 
alltraiioii I c.iiiinl < viii i;ius- ; Finely, dei'y for deity, tlie 
forhier is llie iiiosl n.iliiial lor Cori.-c.i lo >vieai- by. 

i • / could v:ish now 

I were his Ica-Ji'i'"' laundress:] Mr. M. Mason reads Ms 
leiger landress ; «h,ii lie nudei-tooil by it, 1 know not, but 
Corisca means liis camp laiiiidiess. 

Wiilellay 

III the hayuer at Ardennes, lie corrupts 
Two meiieiiaiy laves," &e. J^ove't Victory. 

Leaguer if the Diilih, or r.itlier Flemish, word for a camp; 
and was one of the iitwlaiii,led leriiis inliodiu-cd from llie 
Low Coiinlriis. 'I'liis imiovalion on the English lansjnasie 
is exctlhntly noticed l)y Sir J. Iin .Sinyihe, in Certain UU- 
coumes concer/iini/ the Formes and hf'icts of divers Sorts 
of H eapons, .Sr., Mo. \:.m. "These," the olhcers men- 
tioned b. foie,) " nii.rlie i;;ii<)r.int of all our auiuient <lisei 
pline and pioceedino. ||, actions of amies, have so allecled 
the Wallons, Flemiiii;s, and base Alinanes discipline, Iliat 
they have pn.ciin (I o iiii, ovale, or rathir to subvert all our 
aiincieiit proceedings in mailers mililaiy :— as, for example, 
they will not von. hs.ifi in iheir speaches or writings to use 
our terines bcionuing to malters of wane, hut doo call a 
Campe by the Uiiuli name of leij/ir ; nor will not atlbrd to 
say Ibai such a lovMie or such a fori is b, sieved, but that it 
is beleyard :—A> thiaiu), ,.,„■ F.iiiilish nalion, which' hath 
been s.. famous in all actions miliiarie maiile hundred 
ycare^ were now bni neuly c.ept into the world; or as 
thoiii;ri our language were so iMrieii, ih.ii il rtere not able «( 
itself, or by deiivaiion, lo art. oid convenient words lo uiler 
onr minds in mail, is of ihai ((u.iliiie." 

I caiiiiol .IV. lid adding my nisli.slhal our oHiccrs would 
rell«rt a litlle on tlicoc sensible obnervalions; there is now 



Snap of mine own, enough to wash his linen, 
Or I would strain hard for't. 

ilil. How the mammet twitters! 
Come, come ; my lady stays for us. 

Coris, Would I had been 
Mer ladyship t,lie last night! 

HiL. No more of that, wench. 

[Kxeunt Hilurio, Corisca, and the rest. 

Math. I am strangely troubled: yet why 1 should 
nourish 
A fury here, and with imagined food. 
Having no real grounds on which to raise 
A building of suspicion she was ever 
Or can be false hereafter? I in this 
But foolishly enquire the knowledge of 
A future sorrow, which, if I find out, •' 

IMy present ignorance were a cheap purcliase, 
Though with my loss of being. 1 have already 
De.ilt with a friend of mine, a general scludar. 
One deeply read* in naiuie's hidden secrets, 
And, though with much unwillingness, have won him 
'I'o do as much as art can. to resolve me 
i\]y fate that follows. — lo my wish, he's come. 

Enter Baptista. 

Julio Baptista, now I may affirm 
^'(lur jiromise and jierformance walk together; 
And therefore, without circumstance, to tlie point ; 
Instruct me what I am. 

Bajit. I could wish you had 
Made trial of my love some other way. 

Math. Nay, this is from the purpose. 

Baiit. If you can 
Proportion your desire to any mean, 
I do pronounce y.m happy; I have found, 
Uy certain rules of art, your niatchless wife 
Is to this present hour from all jiollution 
Free and untainted. 

Maih. Good. 

Btijit. 1 ! reason, therefore, 
You should fix iiere, and make no further search 
Of what may fall hereafter. 

Mutli. U, Baptista, 
'Tis not in me to master so my passion^ ; 
I must know further, or you have made good 
But half your iironiise. While my love stood by. 
Holding her u]>riglit, and my presence was 
A watch upon her, her desires being met too 
With ei|ual ardour from me. what one jiroof - 
Could she give of her constancy, being untempted ? 
But when 1 am absent, and my coming back 
Uncertain, and those wanton heats in women 
Not to be (|uench'd by lawful means, and she 
'J he absolute disposer of herself. 



a greater aflfeclalion than ever, of introducing Fcencli 
niiliiaiy phra^es inlo our army ; the consequences of which 
may be inoie important than they seem to iinai^ine. 

• • a general sc\\o\i\r, 

One deeply read, &c.] In the list of dramatis persona!, too, 
he is call..! a y7eat scholar. The character ol iJapiisla is 
fonnd.d upon a nolioii very generally leceiv.d in lie ilark 
ages, ihat men of learning weie conversant in ilie opera- 
ti.iiis of magic: and, indeeil, a scholar ai<d a m.igi.i.in are 
frequently coiifoiinded by our old wi iters, or la her con- 
sidered as one and the same. The notion i.i nut )ei obsolete 
among ihe vulg.r. 

Bapiisia I'oita has given an elaborate account, in his 
tre.iiise Ue Mayia Aa/«ra/(, of i he powers once supposed to 
he possesse.l and exircised by magician*, liuili ilic woik 
and Ihe author loid long been familiar " in llie mmilhs nt 
men," and were piobably not iinkiiovvn to Massii.ger. it 
is an ingenious cnjecline of Mr. Gib hrisi, th.it lie look the 
name uf his " deep-read schol.ir," from Boptitta Forta. 



Sc»;nf. II. I 



THE PICTURE. 



255 



Without control or curb ; nay, more, invited 
By Ojiiionunity, iuid nil strongs teinpta ions, 
If ilir'ii she lioiil out — 

Bujit. .As, no doubt, slie will, 

Mu'h. 'I'liose doubts must be made certainties, 
B.ipiissa, 
By your assunince ; or your boastefi art 
Deserves no ailiniriitiun. ilow you trifle, 
And jilay witli my affliction ! 1 am on 
Tiie rack, till you lontirm me. 

Biipl Sure, Matliias, 
I am no !^(.d, nor can 1 dive into 
Her hidden tlioughis. or know what lier intents are; 
That is denied to art, and kept coiiceal'd 
fen from the devils themselves : they can but guess, 
Out of long obsei va'.uii, what is likely; 
But jjositivfly to foretel that* shall be, 
You may conclude impossible. All 1 can, 
I will do for you ; when you are di.stant from her 
A thousand league.j, as if v'ou then were with her. 
You shall know truly when she is solicited, 
And how far wrouglit on. 

Math. 1 desire no more. 

Biij)t. 1 ake, liien, this little model of Sopliia, 
With more than human skill limn'd to the life ; 

[G/o« him a picture. 
Each line and lineament of it in the drawing 
So punctually ob.served, that, had it motion, 
In so much 'twere herself. 

Math. It is indeed 
An admirable piece; but if it Imve not 
Some hidden virtue that I cannot guess at, 
In what can it advantage me ? 

Bafjt. I'll instruct you : 
Carry it still about you, and as oft 
As you desire to know how she's affected, 
With curious eyes peruse it: wliile it keeps 
The ligure it now has, entire and perfect. 
She is not only innocent in fact, 
But unattemi)ted ; but if once it vary 
From the true form, and wJiats now white and red. 
Incline to yellow*, rest most confident 
She's with all violence courted,. but unconquer'd ; 
But if it turn all black, 'tis an assurance 
The fort, by composition or surprise, 
Is forced or with her free consent surrender'd. 

Math. How much you have engaged me for this 
favour 
The service of my whole life shall make good. 

Bapt. We will not part so, I'll along with you, 
And It is needful ; with the rising sun 
The armies meet ; yet, ere the figlit begin, 
In spi'te of opposition, I will place you 
In the head of the Hungarian general's troop. 
And near his person. 

Math. As my better angel. 
You shall direct and guide me. 

Bapt. As we ride 
I'll tell you more. 

Math. In all things I'll obey you. [Exeunt. 



• But positivel;/ to foretel that shall /«,] All the copiei 
read, that thin .sli.ill bo, which spoils thu verse, an<l is liut, 
indeed, the lmi',;iin»u ot the age. 

t but if oner it vary 

From the Irue fonn, and u-hat's now white unit red 
Jncliiie to jcIjkw,) It i.^ nut iiiipiub.ible but that these 
tnd isinuliir licii.m." wire orisjiiirtlly deiived from tlie r.)b- 
biciiial ii»li< II, ili.it <liM;iiit tveiii.^ ueie sii^iiitied tu the 
high-piiest by cli,iin;es in the cuhjur of Ihs piccioua stones 
whicli furii.ed tne Uriiii «ud Thuiiimiin. 



SCKNE II. — Hungary. A State-room in the Palace 
Enter Ubai.do and Ricardo. 

Ilic. When came the post ! 

Ubald. 'J'he last night. 

hie. From the catn]i ■{ [sign'd 

Ubald. Yes. as 'tis said, and the letter win and 
By the general, Ferdinand. 

Ric. i\ay, then, sans tpiestion. 
It is of moment. 

Uhald. It concerns the lives 
Of two great armies. 

Ric Was it chei rfully 
Received by the king t 

Uliald. Yes ; for being as.sured 
The armies were in view of one another. 
Having proclaim'd a public fast and prayer 
For the good success, he despatcli'd a genilem n 
Of his privy chamber to the general, 
With absolule authority from him 
To try the foriune ol a day. 

Ric. No doubt then 
The general will come on, and fight it bravely. 
Heaven prosjier him ! J his military art 
I grant to be the noblest of professions ; 
And yet, 1 thank my stars for't, 1 was never 
Inclined tolsarn it; since this bubble honour 
(Which is, indeed, th.- nothing soldiers fight for). 
With the loss of limbs or li!e, is, in my judgment. 
Too dear a jiurchase*. 

Ubald. Give me our court warfare : 
The danger is not great in the encounter 
Of a fair mistress. 

Hie. Fair and sound together 
Do very well, Ubaldo ; but such are 
W ith difficuhy tu be found out ; and when "they knovr 
'1 heir value, prized too high. 'By thy own rejiort, 
'1 hou wast at twelve a gamester, and since that, 
Studied ad kinds of females, from the night-trader 
r the street, with certi'in danger to thy pocket. 
To the great l.idy in her cabinet ; 
'i'hat spent ujton thee more in cullises, 
To strengthen thy v\eak back, than would maintain 
Twelve Flanders niiires,and as many running horses. 
Besides apothecaries and surgeons' bills. 
Paid upon all occasions, and those freciuent. 

Ubald. Vou talk, Kicardo, as if yet you were 
A novice in those mysteries. 

Ric. By no means ; 
My doctor can assure the contrary : 
I lose no time. 1 have felt the pain and pleasure. 
As he that is a gamester, and plays often. 
Must sometimes be a loser. 

Ubald. Wherefore, tlien. 
Do you enry me ? 

Ric. It grows not from my want. 
Nor thy abundance ; but being, as I am. 
The likelier man, and of much more experience, 
IMy good parts are my curses : there's no beauty 
But yields ere it be summon'd ; and, as nature 
Had sign'd me the monopoly of maidenheads, 
There's none can buy it till i have made my markeC 
Satiety cloys me ; as I live, I would part with 



since this bubble honour 



( Which is, indeed, the nothing soldiers Jiylit Jor), 
It ith the loss of limbs or life, is, in my judymeiil, 
Too dear a pit7chase] In ihiit passin;e, wliuh haj been 
hillieitu most abMiriily pulnled, Massjnijer, as Cuxetet 
observes, Uad Shik.-piaie in his tliouj;hls, and principally 
Ftflstatt's huiiiuruus catechism. 



856 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act I. 



Half my estate, nay. travel o'er the world, 
To find tliat only plieiiix in my search. 
That could hoM out against me. 

Ubald. He not rapt so; 
You may spare that labour. As she is a woman. 
What think you of the queen? 

Ric. 1 daie not aim at 
The petticoat royal, tliat is still excepted : 
Yet, were she not my king's, being tlie abstract 
Of all that's rare, or to be wisli'd in woman, 
To write her in my catalogue, having enjoy'd her^ 
I would veniure my neck to a halter — but we talk of 
Impossibilities: as she hath a beauty 
Would make old Nestor young ; such majesty 
Draws forth a sword of terror to defend it, 
As would fright Paris, though the queen of love 
Vow'd lier l)est furtherance to him. 

Ubald. Hiive you observed 
The gravity of her language mix'd with sweetness ? 

Ric. Then at what distance she reserves herself 
When the king himself makes his approaches to 
her. 

Ubald. -As she were still a virgin, and his life 
But one continued wooing. 

Ric. She well knows 
Her wor.h, and values it. 

Ubald. And so fartlie king is 
Indulgent 10 her humours, that lie forbears 
The dutv of a liusb^md, but when she calls for't. 

Ric. All his imaginations and thoughts 
Are buried in iier ; the loud noise of war 
Cannot awake him. 

Ubald At this very instant, 
When both his life and crown are at the stake. 
He only studies her content, and when 
She's idpased to shew herself, music and masks 
Are with all c :re and cost ])rovided for her. 

Ric. 'I'his iiiglit she promised to appear. 

Uliald. \'on may 
Believe it by (he diligence of the king, 
As if lie were her harbinger. 

Enter Ladislaus, Eubui.us, and Attendants, mth 
perfumes. 

Lndis. These rooms 
Are not pei fumed, as we directed. 

Eiibu. Not, sir ! 

[smoke 
I know not what you would have ; I am sure the 
Cost treble the price of the whole week's provision 
Spent in ynur majesty's kitcheiis. 

Ladis. How I scorn 
Thy gross comparison ! When my* Honoria, 
The ama/.enient of the present time, and envy 
Ot all succeeding ages, does descend 
To sanciiiV a place, and in her presence 
Makes it a temple to me, can I be 
Too curious, much less prodigal, to receive her? 
Bit tliat the splendour of her beams ol beauty 
Hah struck ihee blind — 

1 .;/)/(. As dotage hath done you. 

Ladis, iJijtage ! blasjihemy ! is it in me 
To serve her to her merit ? Is she not 
The (laughter of a king ? 

Euhn. And you the son 
Of ours 1 take it ; by what privilege else 

• Jf'/ien my Honoria,] Mr. M. Mason omits my; I know 
not wlulliur by inaUverteiicu or (Itiigii ; but it injures the 
metre. 



Do you reign over us ; for my part I know not 
Where the disparity lies. 

Lndis. Her birth, old man 
(Old in the kingdom's service, which, protects thee), 
Is the least grace in her: and though her beauties 
Wight make the Thunderer a livid lor her, 
Thev are but supierficial ornaments. 
And faintly speak her : from her heavenly luind, 
Were all anti(iuity and Hction lost. 
Our modern poets could not in their fancy, 
liut fashion a Minerva far transcending 
The imagined one whom Homer only dreamt of. 
But then add this, she's mine, mint', ICubulus* ! 
And though she knows one <;lance ironi her fair eyei 
Must make all gazers lier iilol. iters. 
She is so sparing of their intlueiice. 
That, to shun superstition in oihers. 
She slioots her powerful beams only at me. 
And ca'i 1, then, whom she desires to hold 
Her kingly captive above all the world, 
W hose nations and enijiires, if she )>leased, 
She might command as slaves, but gladiv jiay 
The humble t:ibute of my love and servioe, 
Nav, if 1 said of adoration, to her, 
1 did not err ? 

Euhu. Well, since vou hug vour fetters, 
[n love's name wear them ! \ ou ;iro a king, and that 
Concludes 3'ou wiset, vour will, a powerful reason : 
Which we, that are fo()li-.h suhjcis, must nut argue. 
And what in a mean man I should call foliy, 
Is in vour majesty remarkable wisdom : 
But for me, I subscribe. 

Ladis. Do, and look up, 
Upon this wonder. 

Loud music. Enter 1]osor\\ in sin te, under a Canopy , 
her train borne up by Sylvia and Acanuie. 

Ric. Wonder! It is more, sir, 

Ubald. A rapture, an astonishment. 

Ric. What think you, sir \ 

Eubu. As the king thinks, tiiat is the surest guard 
We courtiers ever lie at|. Was prince ever 
So drown'd in dotage ? Without sjieciacles 
1 can see a haiulsoine woman, and r^he is so : 
But yet to admiration look not on lier. 
Heaven, how he fawns! anil, as it were his duty. 
With what assured gravity she receives it! 
Her hand again ! O she at length voudisafes 
lier liji, and as he had siick'd i.ccVjir from ii. 
How lie"s exalted ! Woiiien in their iiatiirrs 
Afttct comniaiid ; but this huiiiiliiv 
In a husband and a king maiks her the way 
To absolute tyranny. [I'lie king seals her on his 

throne.] So ! Juno's ])laced 
In Jove's tribunal ; and, like Mercury 
(Forgetting his own greatness), he attends 



• But then add thin, she's mine, miue, Knhiiins !] Our old 
wriieis wtri; very l.ix 111 tlinr ii<f 1 I' nuiigii 11,11111 s, Mas- 
sui^ir \\A> a ^c'luilar, }el lie |>i'i<iii>iiiic( j Liibiiiiis niuch a* 
Sliakspeare would li.ive ilniu' it. 

t > o« are a king, and that, 

Concludes you wise: &.c\ !•■ as-i g' r ajiinai.- 10 me to 
liavc MVi r.il .'ly llnii.sts, in varioUa (i.irl.s of lii>«iirk.<, at the 
sl.ivisli (joclriiies mainlaiiifil by iiia.-l cf ilic ciltbrated 
wrilirii of liis time : — 

"be it one (loci's (iraik-. 

That it lie pleased, lie pleaseil l>) iii.inty ways, 
Tliat tl.iileiy even to kins;.* lie lit Id a .»i ame, 
And tl oiiLLJit a lie in v. r.-e i.i |iiii>.- llie s iiiie." 
J Kiibii. d.v the king thinks, Ihut is the l,^lu■st };narrt 
M e courtiers e\er lie .it ] i. e lie M:ie-| poamie of d* 
filiee. " 'I lion Unowe.-t,' .-.ij .< Fal-t.irt, " iny old tuard • 
thus I lay." Guard and ward are the eaiiie word. 



Scene II.] 



THE PICTURE. 



isr 



For her employments. She prepares to speak ; 
What oriicles sliall we hear now ? 

Hon. Tliut vou please, sir. 
With such assurances ot" love and favour, 
To graie your haiulniaid.but in being yours, sir, 
A matchless (pieen, and one tliat knows herself so. 
Binds me in retribution to deserve 
The grace coiit'err'd upon me. 

Lddis. Vou transcend 
In all thinifs excellent ; and it is my glory, 
Your wortli weigh 'd tiuly, to depose myself • 
From absolute command, surrendering up 
My will and faculties to your disposure : 
And here I vow. not for a day or year. 
But mv whole life, whicli I wish long to serve you. 
That wliatsover I injustice may 
Exact from these my subjects, you from me 
May boldly challenge : and when you require it. 
In sign of my subjection, as your vassal, 
Thus 1 will ])ay my homage. 

Hun. O forbear, sir ! 
Let not my lips envy my robe ; on them 
Print your allegiance often : I desire 
No other fealty. 

Ladis. Gracious sovereign ! 
Boundless in bounty ! 

Eubu. Is not here fine fooling ! 
He's, questionless, hewitch'd. Would I were gelt, 
So that would disenchant him ! though I forfeit 
My life for't, 1 must speak. By your good leave, 

sir — 
I have no suit.to you, nor can you grant one, 
Having no power : you are like me, a subject, 
Her more than serene majesty being present. 
And 1 must tell you, 'tis ill manners in you, 
Having deposed yourself, to keen your hat on. 
And not stand bare, as we do, being no king. 
But a fellow-subject wiih us. Gentlemen ushers. 
It does belong to your place, see it reform 'd ; 
He has given away his crown, and cannot challenge 
The privilege of his bonnet. 

Ladis. Do not tempt me. [example? 

Eubu. 'J'empt you ! in what? in following your 
If you are angry, question me hereafter. 
As Ladislaus should do Eubulus, 
On equal terms. You were of late my sovereign 
But weary of it, I now bend my knee 
To her divinity, and desire a boon 
From her more than magnificence. 

Hon. Take it freely, [him. 

Nay, be not moved ; for our mirth's sake let us hear 
Eubu. 'Tis but to ask a question : Have you 
ne'er read 
The story of Semiramis and Ninus ? 
Hon. Not as I remember. 
Eubu. 1 V ill then instruct you. 
And 'lis to the purpose : 'i'his Ninus was a king. 
And such an impotent loving king as this was. 
But now he's none ; this Ninus (pray you observe 

me) 
Doted on this Semiramis, a smith's wife 
(I must confess, thure the comparison holds not, 
You are a king's daughter, yet, under your correc- 
tion, 
Like her a woman) ; this Assyrian monarch, 
Of whom this is a pattern, to express 
His love anc' service, seated her, as you are. 
In his regM throne, and bound by oath his nobles, 
Fc^ettiiig all allegiance to himself, 
One day to be her subjects, and to put 



In execution whatever she [him 

Pleased to impose upon them : — pray you command 
I'o minister the like to us, and then 
You shall heiir what follow'd. 

Ladis. Well, sir, to your story, [know 

Eubu. You have no warrant, stand by ; let me 
Your pleasure, goddess. 

H(ui. Let this nod assure you. [idol ! 

Euhii. Goddess-like, indeed ! as I live, a pretty 
She knowing her power, wisely made use of it ; 
And fearing his inconstancy, and repentance 
Of what he had granted (as, in reason, madam, 
N'ou may do his), that he might never have 
Powpr to recal his grant, or question her 
For her short government, instantly gave order 
To have his head struck off. 

Ladis. Js't possible ? [dom 

Eubu. The story says so. and commends her wis- 
For making use of her authority. • 

And it is worth your imitation, madam : 
He loves subjection, and you are no (|ueen. 
Unless you make him feel the weight of it, 
Vou are more than all the world to him, :rud that 
He may be so* to you, and not seek change 
W hen his delights are sated, mew him up 
In some close prison (if you let him live. 
Which is no policy), and there diet him 
As you think fit, to feed your appetite ; 
Since there ends his ambition. 
Ubtild. Devilish counsel ! 
lUc. I'he king's amazed. 
Ubald. The queen appears, too, full 
Of deep imaginations; Eubulus 
Hath jjut both to it. 

Ric. Now she seems resolved: 
I long to know the issue. 

l^Honoria descends from the thront. 
Hon. Give me leave, 
Dear sir, to reprehend you for appearing 
I'erplex'd with what this old man, oiii of envy 
Of your unequall'd graces, shower'd upon me, 
Hath, in his fabulous story, saucily 
Applied to me. Sir, that vou only nourish 
One doubt Honoria dares abuse llie power 
With which she is invested by your lavour ; 
Or that she ever can make use of it 
'Jo the injury of you, the great bestower. 
Takes from your jud»;ment. It was your delight 
Jo seek to me with more obsequiousness 
'J'han J desired : and stood it with my duty 
Not to receive what you were pleased to offer ? 
I do but act the part you put upon me, 
And though you make me personate a queen. 
And you my subject, when the play, your pleasure, 
Js at a period, J am what I was 
Before I enier'd, still your humble wife, 
Anl you my royal sovereign. 



• You are more than all the world to him, and that 
He may be (oe to you,] 'I'liis is llic HMfliu-^ut all the old 
copies, but most ceruiiiily lalse. ll oiiLilit to be 

and that 

He may be so to ynu. Coxeter. 
Wlieu it is consi<lere(l that the olil way of spelling so was 
foe. ;;::<1 tiiat the / is fieqneiitly mistaken f(^r an /, wc 
«liall not be inclined to think extraordinarily hi;;hly of llie 
eilitiii's sagacity, notwithstanding it is set olt by a capit..I 
letter, which is not to be loiin<l in the oriyiiial. But now 
steps in Mr. M. Mason, and, having the scent v< an ameiid- 
liient, pronounces so to be nonsense! and propujei lo read 
(nay, actually prints), true, whicii, saitli lie, " is evidently 
the light word." All this thrashing for chatt ! 



fse 



THE PICTTIRE. 



[Act IL 



Jiir. Admirable! [dangers 

lion. 1 have lieard of captains falcen more with 
Than the rewards ; and if, in your approaches 
To those deli.nhts which are yoiiv own, and freely, 
To heiuhten your desire, you make the passage 
Narrow and difficult, shall I prescribe you. 
Or blnme your fondness ? or can that swell me 
Bevoiid my just proportion .' 

Ufhild. A liove wonder ! [ness. 

I.iidis. Heaven make me thankful for such good- 

//<)«. Now, sir, 
The state I took to satisfy your pleasure, 
I cliauffe to this humility ; and the oath 
You ni;>de to me of homage, 1 thus cancel, 
And seat you in your own. 

[Leadi the king to the tkrorie. 

Ladis. I am transported 
Beyomi myself. 

• Hon. And now, to your wise lo-dship : 
Am I proved a Semiramis? or hatli 
My Niiius, as maliciously you made him, 
Cause to repent the excess ol favour to me, 
Which you call dotage? 

Lddis. Answer, wretch, 

Eiilm. I dare, sir. 
And s:i3', however the event may plead 
In your defence, you had a guilty cause ; 
Nor was it wisdom in you, 1 repeat it, 
To teach a lady, humble in herself. 
With ilie ridiculous dotage of a lover, 
To he ambitious. 

Jliiii. Eubulus, I am so ; 
'Tis rooted in me ; you mistake my temper. 
I do profess myself to be the most 
Ambitious of my sex, but not to hold 
Command over my lord ; such a proud torrent 
Would sink me in my wishes : not that I 
Am iunorant how much 1 can deserve, 
And may with justice challenge. 

Eiibii. This 1 look'd for ; 
After this seeming humble ebb, I knew 
A gushing tide would follow. 

Hon. IJy my birth. 
And liberal gifts of nature, as of fortune, 
Fr.im you, as things beneatli me, 1 ex[)ect 
What's due to majesty, in which 1 am 
A sharer with your sovereign. 

Eitbu, Good again ! 

Hon. And as 1 am most eminent in place. 
In all my actions I would ap))ear so. 

Liidis. You need not fear a rival. 

Hon. I hope not ; 
And till I find one, I disdain to know 
What envy is. 

Ladis. You are above it, madam. 

Hon. For beauty without art, discourse, and free* 

• F-yr beauty without art, discourse, and, free, &c j Tl cse 
last w'dids are iiii|)r(ipiily arranged, «c j-lumlil rtad. 

Far beauty without art, and discourse free from affec 
tatinn. M. Ma>^on. 

I kuow uut how mucli Mr. M. Mason bad lead c( itti 



From affectation, with what graces else 
Can in flie wife and daughter of a king 
Be wish'd, I dare prefer myself, as 

Eubu. I 
Blush for you, lady. Trumpet your own praises'! 
This spoken by tiie people liad been heard 
With honour to you. Does the court afford 
No oil-toiigucd parasite, that you are forced 
To be your own gross flatterer ? 

Ladis. Be dumb. 
Tliou spirit of contradiction ! 

Hon. i he wolf 
But barks .igainst the moon, and I contemn it. 
The mask you |)romised? ^A horn sounded viilkiti. 

LatCis. Let them enter. 

Enter a CouniER. 

How ! 

Euhii. ITere's one, I fear, unlook'd for. 

Ladis, From the camp ? 

Coor. The general, victorious in your fortune, 
Kisses your hand in this, sir. [De/jicrs a kttet . 

Lddis. That great Power, 
Who at his |;leasure does dispose of battles. 
Be ever praised for't ! Read, sweet, and partake it: 
The I urk is vanquish 'd, and with little loss 
Uj)on our ]iart, in which our joy is doubled. 

Enbn. But let it not exalt you ; bear it, sir, 
With moderation, and pay what you owe for't. 

Ladis. I understand thee, Eubulus. I'll not now 
Enquire particulars. — [Exit Courier.] — Our delighta 

deferred. 
With reverence to the temples ; there we'll tender 
Our souls' devotions to His dread might. 
Who edged our swords, and taught us how to fight. 

[Eieu:it, 



anthor wlii-n lie wrote this note ; but must take leave to 
think, that liis ac(|uaiiitance with him was exceedingly 
(iiperllcial. 'Ilie lii'>de of expression, which he wmili. 
change into tame prose by his arrangement, is so treiiuen 
in Massiiijier, as to form one of the characteristics of nis 
ilyle. It is not, iiideeil, unknown to, or iinnse<l by, any o( 
his contempor.iries : but in none of them are the recurrence! 
of it so fre<ptent. 
• Eubii. / 

Bluthfor you, lady. Trumpet your own praises t] Dods- 
ley reads. 

As I 

Blush for you, lady, trumpet not your own praise. 
Coxier and Mr. M. Mason: 

As I 

Blunh for you, lady, trumpet your own praises~- 
And explain it to mean ihat— " she Iicifelf liavint! lost all 
sense of shame, he undertakes to blush for hei ; and there- 
fore inmicallj bids her procei'd." 

I like neither of these readings. Dodsley's is very tame ; 
and CoNder's at variance with wliat follows. The old 
copy p» ihfi'ps aoaini h t us : 

Enb. As I 
Blush fir you lady, trumpet your own prayset ! 
Wliich leads me I" suspect Ihat the queen was interrupted 
by the impatience of Eubulus; upon llial idea I have regu- 
lated the text. Tliis is by far the greatest liberly 1 have 
yet takeu wilu my Aullioi. 



Scene T.] 



THE PICTURE. 



S5f 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. — Bohemia. A lS.o(m. xn Mathias' Uouier. 
Enter Hilario and Cobisga. 

Hil. You like my speech? 

Cm-is- Yes, if you give it action 
In the delivery. 

Hil. If! I i>ityj-ou. [time, 

I have jihiy'd tlie fool before; this is not the first 
Nor shall be, I hope, the last. 

Coris. Nay, I think so too. [laughter, 

IJil. And if I put her not out of her dumps with 
I'll make her howl for anger. 

Coris. Not too much 
Of that, good fellow Hilario : •ur sad lady 
Hath drank too often of that bitter cup ; 
A pleasant one must restore her. With what patience 
Would she endure to hear of the death of my lord ; 
That, merely out of doubt he may miscarry. 
Afflicts herself thus ? 

Hil. IJmph? 'tis a question 
A widow only can resolve. There be some 
That in their husbands' sicknes.>ies* have wept 
Their pottle of tears a day ; but being once certain 
At midnight he was dead, have in the morning 
Dried up their handkerchiefs, and thought no more 
on't. [row 

Carts. Tush, she is none of that race ; if her sor- 
Be not true and perfect, 1 against my sex 
Will take my oath woman ne'er wept in earnest. 
She has made herself a prisoner to her chamber, 
Dark as a dungeon, in which no beam . 

Of comfort enters. She admits no visits ; 
Eats little, and her nightly music is 
Of sighs and groans, tuned to such harmony 
Of feeling grief, that I, against my nature. 
Am made one of the consortf. This hour only 
She takes the air, a custom every day 
She solemnly observes, with greedy hopes. 
From some that pass by, to receive assurance* 
Of the success and safety of her lord. 
Now, if that your device will take ■ 

Hit. Ne'er fear it : 
I am provided cap-a-pi6, and have 
My jjroperties in readiness. 

Soph. [ui(/ii».] Bring my veil, there. 

Coi is. Be gone, I hear her coming. 

Hil. If I do not 
Appear, and, what's more, appear perfect, hiss me. 

[Exit 

Enter Sophia. 

So])h. 1 was flatter'd once, I was a star, but now 
TurnM a prodigious meteor, and, like one, 
Hang in ilie air between my hopes and fears; 
And every hour, the little stuff burnt out 
That yields a waning light to dying comfort. 



• That in their hutbandi' firkncsses have wept] So the 
quarto: tlie inotkrii editors read, 

7'hat in their husbniiil's fickness have wept 
which miorly (ll•^t^(lys xWv nictrt. In llie next »p*ech, 
for — woiiiJin Ttfer ve,.t, Mr. M. Mhsoh gives us women 
ne'er wcfjt t hikI ilms he stumbles and blunders on through 
the whule «<iik. 

f Am, made one of the conforl,) Here, as every where 
else', Mr. M. Ma.«oii<lisiharne» the genuine woid for comtr/. 
See i he Fatal Dowry. 



I do expect my fall, and certain ruin. 
In wretched tilings more wretched is delay; 
And Mo|)P, a parasite to me, being uninask'd. 
Appears more hornd than Despair, and my 
Distraction worse than madness. Even my prayers, 
When with most zeal sent upward, are puU'd down 
With strong imaginary doubts and fears. 
And in their sudden precipice o'erwhelm me. 
Dreams and fantastic visiona>walk the round* 
About my witlow'd bed, and every slumber's 
Broken with loud alarms : can these be then 
But sad presages, girl? 

Coris. V'ou make them so. 
And antedate a loss shall ne'er fall on you. 
Such pure affection, such mutual love, 
A bed, and undefiled on either part, 
A house without contention, in two bodies 
One will and soul, like to the rod of concord, 
Kissing each other, cannot be short-lived. 
Or end in barrenness. — If all these, dear madam 
(Sweet in your sadness), sfriuld j)roduce no fruit. 
Or leave the age no models of yourselves, ' 

To witness to posterity what you were ; 
Succeeding times, frighted with the example. 
But hearing of your story, would instruct 
Their fairest issue to meet sensually. 
Like other creatures, and forbear to raise 
True Love, or Hymen, altars. 

Soph. O Corisca, 
I know thy reasons are like to thy wishes ; 
And they are built upon a weak foundation, 
To raise me comfort. Ten long days are past, 
Ten long days, my Corisca, since my lord 
Embark'd himself upon a sea of danger, 
In his dear care of me. And if his life 
Had not been shipwreck'd on the rock of war. 
His tenderness of me (knowing how niucn 
1 languish for his absence) had provided 
Some trusty friend, from who;na 1 might receive 
Assurance of his safety. 

Coris. Ill news, madam, [crutches: 

Are swallow-wing'd, but what's good walks on 
With patience expect it, and, ere long, 
No doubt you shall iiear from him. 

\Horn blown. 

Soph. Ha! What's that? 

Ci»r/s. 'i'lie fool has got a sowgelder's horn. A post, 
As I take it, madam. 

Soph. It makes this way still ; 
Nearer and nearer. 

Corii. From the camp, I hope. 

Enter one disguised as a Courier, with a hern ; fol' 

laued ht) HiLAKio, in antic armour, with long whitt 

hair and beard. 

[armour, 

Soph. The messenger appears, and in strange 
Heaven ! if it be thy will — • 

Hil. It is no boot 
To strive ; our horses tired, let's walk o.i foot: 

• IJreiims and fantastic visiont walk the roniid] For 
the round, Coxeter would read, their round ; tut he did 
not niidtr-laiKl the jihrast. To " walk the roinid" was 
lechni-al, and meant to watch, in which rmite it ulteo 
occurs in Massinger, and other writers of his f^v. 



160 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act IL 



And that the castle, which is very near us, 
To give us entertiiinment, may soon hear us. 
Blow lustilv, my lad, and drawiiiij; nigh-a*, 
Ask for a lady which is cleped SopLia. 
Cons. He names you, madam. 
Hil. For to her I bring, 
Thus clad in arms, news of a pretty tiling, 
By name IMatliias. [Exit Courier. 

Soph. From my lord ? O sir 
I am Sopliia, tliat Mathias' wife. 
So may ftlars favour you in all your battles. 
As you with speed unload me of the burthen 
1 labour under, till I am confirm"d 
Both where and how you left him ! 

Hil. If thou art, 
As I believe, ihe pigsney of his heart. 
Know lie's in health, and what's more, full of glee; 
And so much I was will'd to say to thee. 
Soph. Have you no letters from him? 
Hil. No more wordsf. 
In the camp we use no pens, hut write with swords ; 
Yet as 1 am enjoin'd, bv word of mouth 
I will proclaim his deeds from north to south ; 
But tremble not, wliile I relate the wonder 
Though my eyes like lightning shine, and my voice 
thunder. 
Soph. This is some counterfeit braggart. 
Coris. Hear him, madam. 

Hil. The rear march'd first, which follow'd by 
the van. 
And wing'd with the battalia:):, no man 
Durst Slav to shift a shirt, or louse himself ; 
Yet, ere the armies join'd, that hopeful elf, 
Thy dear, thy dainty duckling, bold Mathias, 
Advanced, and stared like Hercules or Golias. 
A hundred thousand Turks, it is no vaunt, 
Assail'd iiim ; every one a Termagaunt : 
But what did he then, with his keen-edge spear 
He cut and carbonated them : here and there 
Lay legs and arms; and, as 'tis said trulee 
Of Bevis, some he quarter'd all in three. 
50/)/!. 'I'liis is ridiculous. 
Hil. I must take breath ; 
Th n like a nightingale, I'll sing his death. 
Soph. His death! 
Hil. I am out. 

Coris. Recover, dunder-head, [died; 

////. How he escaped, I should have sung, not 
For, though a knight, when I said so, I lied. 
Weary he was, and scarce could stand upright. 
And looking round for some courageous knight 
To rescue him, as one perplex'd in woe, 
He call'd to me, help, help, UiJario ! 
My valiant servant, help ! 

• Blow lustily my lad, and drawing ni!»Ii-a, 

Ask for II lady which is cleped Syptiu. I Coxeter took 
Ihe a iriim nigh a, an<l Mr. M. Mason, not to bi-liind hand 
in the business of iuiprovement, reduceil opltia to Sophy. 
He then obsirvcs witli great self complacency, "this emen- 
dation" (einen lalion !) " is evidently ilghi ; as all the rest 
of this ridicidiiiis speech is in rli) me, we sliouht without 
doubt read .Sophy instead of Soyhial" After all this conti- 
dence, the old copy reads precisely as I have {;iv6U it. 

t Hil. No moxK words. \ Here is another " emendation !" j 
The editors read ; A'^o, mere words. But Hilaiio alludes to 
what he hid just said — " so much J wat will'd to .tay to 
thee — und therefore queation me no further." The contra- 
diction which follows, makes the humour, if it may he so 
•tjled, of this absurd interlude. 

; And wini/'d with the battalia,! Mr. M. Mason reads 
battalion ; a needless surcrease of nonsense : by battalia 
our old writers ineaiU what we now call the main body of 
fbe army. 



Coris. He has spoil'd all, [bold 

Soph. Are you the man of arms, then? I'll make 
To take off your martial beard, you had fool's hair 
Enough without it. ilave! how <lurjt thou make 
-Thy sport of what concerns me more than life. 
In such an antic fasliion ? Am I fjrown 
Contemptible to those I feed? you, minion, 
Had a hand in it too, as it appears, 
Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior*. 

Coris. We did it for your mirth. 

Hill. For myself, I hope, 
I have spoke like a soldier. 

Soph. Hence, you rascal ! 
I never but with reverence name my lord. 
And can I hear ii by thy tongue prolaued, 
And not correct thy follv? but you are [course, 

Transform'd and turn'd knight-errant; fake your 
And wander where you please ; for here I vow 
By my lord's life (an oath I will t^ot break). 
Till his return, or ceitainty of his safety. 
My doors are shut against thee, [T£iit 

Coris. You have made 
A fine piece of work ou't ! How do you like the 

qualityt ? 
You had a foolish itch to be an actor, 
And may stroll where you please. 

Hil. Wi.l you buy my share ? 

Coris. No, certainly ; I fear I have already 
Too much of mine own : I'll only, as a damsel 
(As the books sayj), thus far help to disarm you; 
And so, dear Don Quixote, taking my leave, 
I leave you to your fortune, [Eiit. 

////, llave 1 sweat 
My brains out for this quaint and rare invention, 
And am I t^us rewarded ? I could turn 
I'ragedian and roar now, but that 1 fear 
'Twould get me too great a stomach, having no meat 
I'o pacify colon§ : \Vha: will become ofnne? 
I cannot beg in armour, and steal 1 dare not: 
My end must be to stand in a corn field. 
And fright away the crows, for bread and cheese; 
Or find some hollow tree in the highway, 
And there, until my lord return, sell switches : 
No more Hilario, but Dolorio now, 
I'll weep my eyes out, and be blind of purpose 
To move compassion ; and so I vanish. [Exit. 

SCENE II. — Hungary. An Ante-room in ihe Palace. 
Enter EuBri.us, Ubaldo, Kicardo, and othen. 

Eubu. Are the gentlemen sent before, as it was 
By the king's direction, to entertain [order'd. 

The general '! 

liic. Long since ; they by this have met him. 
And given him the bienvenu. 



• Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior.] Bases 
seem to be some kind of quilted and ornaiiienlal covering 
for the thighs. It appears to have made a p.iit of the mili- 
tary dress of the time : 

" Per. Now by your furtherance I am clad !'> steel 
Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided 
Of a pair of bases. 

Fiih. We'll sure provide: thon shalt have my heit 

yown lo make thee a '^ait."— Pericles, Av\ II. sc. 1. 

t How do you like tlu: quality?) i. -e. the profession of 

playing. See The lioman Actor. In the list line of this 

speech, the editors have unnecessarily inserted now before 

SI roll. 

t As the books say.\ i. e. the books of knight errantry, 
which were then much read. Co.xeler and Mr. M. Ma on 
have— /Is tke book sa>s ! 

j To pacify ciiU'n :J i. e. the cravings ot iiunger. — SceTha 
C'nnaturul Combat, Act I., Sc. 1. 



Scene II.] 



THE PICTURK. 



Ut 



Fai'ju. 1 hope I need not 
Instruct you in your parts. 

Ubald. How ! us, my lord ! 
Fearnot ; we know our distances and degrees 
To the vers* inch where we are to Siilute him. 

Hie. The state were miserahle if the court had 
Of her own hreed, familiar with all garbs [none 

Gracious in England, Italy, Spain, or France ; 
With form and punctuality to receive 
Stranger ambas-sadors : for the general 
He's a mere native, and it matters not 
Which wav we do accost him. 

Uhald. ' lis great pity 
That sucii as sit at the helm provide no better 
For the training up of the gentry. In my judgment 
An academy erected, with large pensions 
To such as in a talile could set down 
The congees, cringes, postures, methods, phrase, 
Proper to every nation • 

Ric. O, it were 
An admirable piece of work ! 

Ubald. And yet rich fools 
Throw away tlieir charity on hospitals 
For beggars and lame soldier'^, and ne'er study 
The due regard to compliment and courtship, 
Matters of more import, and are indeed 
The glories of a monarchy. 

Ettbu. These, no doubt, 
Are state points, gallants, I confess ; but sure, 
Our court needs no aids this way, since it is* 
A school of nothintf else. I here are some of you 
Wl)om I foibear to name, whose coining heads 
Are the mints of all new fashions, tliat have done 
More hurt to thf kingdom by ftiperfluous braveryf, 
Which the foolish gentry imitate, than a war, 
Or a long famine ; all the treasure, by 
This foul excess, is got into the merchant, 
PJmbroiderer, silkman, jeweller, tailor's hand, 
And the third part of the land too, the nobility 
Engrossing titles only. 

Ric. I\Iy lord, you are hitter. [A trumpet. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv, The general is alighted, and now enter'd. 

Ric. \Vere he ten generals, I am prepared, 
And know what 1 will do. 

Eub. Pray you wliat, Ricardo? 

Ric. I'll tight at compliment with him. 

Ubald. I'll charge home too. [oft' well. 

Eub. And that's a desperate service ; if you come 
Enter Fehdinand, Maihias, hAPiisTA,and Captains. 

Ferd. Captain, command the officers to keep 
The soldier, as he march'd in rank and file, 
Till they hear further from me. \^Exeunt Captains. 

Eubu. Here's one speaks 
In another key; this is no cantina: languasre • 
1 aught in your academy. 

Ferd. Nav, I will present you 
To the king myself. 

Math. A grace beyond my merit, 

Ferd. Vou undervalue what I cannot set 
Too high a price on. 

Eubu, With a friend's true heart, 
I gratulate your- return. 

• Our court ne<rds no aids this way, since it is &c.] Mr, 
M. Masiiii, ill defiance of aiittiority ami of gramiiiar, reads : 
Our conns need no aids this way since it &c. indeed, he 
hath piinttd fhe vliole of this sfiecch very carelessly, aud 
pointed it still more so. 

fey superfluous bravery] i. e, as 1 have 

already observed, finery, costliness of apparel, &t 

20 



Ferd. Next to the favour 
Of the great king, I am happy in your friendship. 

Uhiild. I'.v courtship, coarse on botli sides ! 

Ferd. Pray you, receive 
This stranger to your knowledge ; on my credit, 
At all parts he serres it. 

K'lhii. ^'our report 
Is a sironi;- assurance to me. Sir, most welcome. 

Miilh. '1 his said by you the reverence of your ago 
Commands me to believe it. 

Ric. '1 his was pretty ; 

Hut second me now. 1 cannot stocptoo low 

To do your excellence that due observance 
Your fortune claims. 

F.uliu He ne'er thinks on his virtue ! 

Ric. Tor being, as you are, the soul of soldiers, 
And hulwai'k of liellona 

Ubald. I he protection 
Both of the court and king — 

Ric. And the sole minion 
Of mighty Mars — 

Uliiiid. One that with justice may 
Increase the number of the worthies — 

Ei(hii. Ileydav ! 

Ric. It being impossible in my arms to circle 
Such giant worth 

Uhald. At distance we presume 
To kiss your hunour'd gauntlet. 

Eiibii. What re])ly now 
Can he make to this foppery 1 

Ferd. ^'ou have said, 
Gallanis. so much, and hitherto done so little. 
That, 'ill 1 learn to speak, and you to do, 
I must take time to thank you. 

Eubu As 1 live, 
Answer'd as I could wish. How the fops gape now ! 

Ric. This was harsh and scurvy. 

Ubuld. We will be revenged 
When he conies to court the ladies, and laugh at him. 

Eiibii. Nay, do your offices, gentlemen, and con- 
The general to the presence. [duct 

Ric. Keep your order. 

Uliald. Make way for the general. 

[Eie«7i< an but Eubulus 

Eubu. What wise man. 
That, with judicious eyes, looks on a soldier, 
lint must confess that fortune's swing is more 
O'er that profession, than all kinds else 
Of life pursued by man 7 'i hey, in a state, 
Are but as surgeons to wounded men. 
E'en desperate in their hopes ; while pain and anguish 
JMake them blaspheme, and call in vain tor death : 
Their wives and children kiss the surgeon's knees. 
Promise him mountains, if his saving hand 
Restore the tortured wretch to foimer strength. 
But when grim death, by ^sculapius' art, 
Is friglitej'from the house, and health appears 
III sanguine colours on the sick man's (ace. 
All is forgot ; and, asking his reward, 
He'^ paid with curses, olten receives wounds 
I lom him whose wounds he cured. 1 have observed. 
When horrid Mars*, the touch of whose lough hand 



• From Mm whose wounds he cured. I have observed, 
li hen horrid Mars, &c.] Theie is both an imperfec- 
tion and a rtdimrlancy in this speech, as it stands in th« 
old Ktilion, which reads. 

From him whose vmunds he. cured, so soldiers, 
'Ihoiiyh of more worth and use, meet the same fate 
As it' is toe apparent. I have observed 



}63 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act II 



With palsies shake.' s Lliigdom, hath put on 

His dreadful helmet, and witli terror fills 

The place where he, like an unwelcome guest, 

Resolves to revel, how the lords of her, like 

The tradesman, merchant, and litio;ious pleader. 

And such lilce scarabs, bred in the dung of peace. 

In hope ot thefr protection, humbly offer 

Thfir daughters to their beds, heirs to their service. 

And wasli vviih tears their sweat, their dust, their 

scans : 
Hut when those clouds of rrar, that menaced 
A bloodv deluge to the affrighted state. 
Are, by their breath, dispersed, and overblown, 
And (amine, blood, and death, Bellona's pages, 
Wiiipt from the quiet continent to Thrace*; 
Soldiers, that, like the foolish hedge-sparrow. 
To tlieir own ruin hatch this cuckoo peace, 
Aresiiaight thought burthensome ; since want of 

means, 
Growing fromf want of action, breeds contempt : 
And that, the worst of ills, falls to their lot, 
Their service, with the danger, soon forgot. 

■ Enter a Servant. 

Serv. The queen, my lord, hath made choice of 
this room. 
To sef the mask. 

Eithii. I'll be a looker on ; 
My dancing days are past. 

Tjoud mus'C. Enter Ubai.do, Ricabdo, Ladislaus, 
Ferdinand. Honohia, Matiiias, Sylvia, Acanthe, 
Haptista, Captains, and others. As they pass, a 
Song in praise of' war. 

Ladi(. This courtesy 
To a stranger, my Honoria, keeps fair rank 
With all your rarities. After your travail. 



/n one hue. 

If'hen horrid Mars, &c. 
PniiM llie repetitions, I am inclined to think that this 
soliloquy (whicli is siiflicicntly long) was .ibrid^ed in (he 
pr(>iii|jler's book, and that the abridgment and the original 
were confounded, and unskilfully copied at the press. 'I'his 
it not H circumstance so improbable as it may appear to 
some readers, for 1 conld give many instances of it. • It 
should be remembered that there is but one edition of this 
pUy, ,«(> that the evil is without remedy. Coxeter altered 
the pointinjr, without improving the sense : and Mr. M. 
Mason wave the passage unfaithfully. 

• Vf'hipt from the quiet continent to TTirace ;\ Massinger 
i§ here mistaken, for Thrace is upon the continent, — 

CoXETEK. 

Massinger probably knew as well as the editor, that part 
of Thrace was on the contincrt ; but the Thracian archipe- 
lago, which was dedicated to Mars, is composed of islands. 

M. Masun. 
It is difficult, in the words of E.->calus, f 'ly, " which is 
the wiser here. Justice or Iniquity." Th contrast is not 
between a continent and an islan<l, bui octwecn a state of 
(ranqnility and one of warfare. The ancients comprehended 
ander the name of Thrace much of ihe northeastern part of 
Europe, Ihe tierce inhabitants of which were supposeil to 
worship Mars and Bellona ; who, in return, made the 
country the peculiar place of ilieir residence. From thence 
Ihey are frequently described with great magnificence by 
the poets, as setting forth to kindle war, " witii their pages, 
famine, blood, and death ;" and thither, when peace was 
restored, they were supposed to retire agiin. The same 
idea, ami nearly in the same words, has already occurred 
io 'I'he Roman A ctor : 
iVow, the god of war 

And famine, blood, and death, Bellona'* pages, 
Jianish'dfrom Pome to 'I'hrace, in our good fortuiu. 
With justice he may taate the fruitt of peace. 

• Growing t\o\n want of action,'] This is sutficieutly clear; 
yet Mr. M. Masoa alters it to — Growing fot want of 
actioo 



Look on our court delights ; but first, from your 
Relation, with erected ears I'll hear 
The music of your war, which must bo Siveet, 
Ending in victory. 

Ferd. Not to trouble 
Your majesties with description of a battle 
Too full of horror for the place, and to 
Avoid particulars, which should J deliver, 
I must trench longer on your patience than 
My manners will give way to ; — in a word, sir. 
It was well fought on both sides, and almost 
With equal fortune, it continuing doubtful 
Upon whose tents plumed Victory would take 
Her glorious stand. Impatient of delay, 
With the flower of our prime gentlemen, I charged 
Their main battalia, and with their assistance 
Brake in ; but, when I was almost assured 
That they were routed ; by a stratagem 
Of the subtile Turk, who opening his gross body 
And rallying up his troops on either side, 
I found myself so far engaged, for I 
Must not conceal my errors, that 1 knew not 
Which way with honour to come off. , 

Euhu. I like 
A general that tells his faults, and is not 
Ambitious to engross unto himself 
All honour, as some have, in which, with justice, 
They could not claim a share. 

Ferd. Being thus liemm'd in. 
Their scimitars riiged among us ; and, my horse 
Kill'd under me, I every minute look'd for 
An honourable end, and that was all 
My hope could fashion to me : circled thus 
With death and horror, as one sent from heaven, 
Tiiismanofmeji, with some choice horse, that foUow'd 
His brave example, did pursue the track 
His sword cut f(ir them, and, but that I see him 
Already blush to hear what he, being present, 
I know would wish unspoken, I should say, sir. 
By what he did, we boldly may believe 
All that is writ of Hector. 

Moth. General, 
Pray spare these strange hyperboles. 

F.ubu. Do not blush 
To hear a truth ; here are a pair of monsieurs. 
Had they been in your place, would have run away, 
And ne'er changed countenance. 

Ubald. We have your good vi-ord still. 

Enbu. And shall, while you deserve it. 

Ladis. Silence ; on. 

Ferd. He, as I said, like dreadful lightning thrown 
From Jupiter's shield, dispersed the armed gire 
With whit^i I was environed; horse and man 
Shrunk under his strong arm : more, with his looksf 
Frighted, the valiant fled, with which encouraged. 
My soldiers (like young eaglets preying under 
The wings of their fiece dam), as if from him 
They took both spirit and fire, bravely came oa. 
By him I was remounted, and inspired 
With treble courage ; and such as fled before 
Boldly made head again; and, to confirm them, 
It suddenly was apparent, that the fortune 
Of the day was ours ; each soldier and commander 
Perfonu'd his part ; laut this was the great wheelf 



more, farther, &c. 



' more, with hit looks. Sic] i. e. yel 

but this was the great wheel, &c.] 
This is the third or fourth time we have had this expression. 
It is certainly no felony for a man to steal from himself, 
but it is neveitbeless a very awkward Wi^ of relieving blf 



Scene II.] 



THE PICTURE. 



By wliicb the lesser moved ; and all rewards 
A'ikI sij,ms of honour, as the civic garland. 
Tl,e mural wreiith, the enemy's prime liorse, 
Uiili the general's sword, and armour (the old ho- 
nours 
Wih wliich the Romans crown'd their several 

leaders). 
To liim alone are proper. 

Lndis. And they shall 
Deservedly lall on him. Sit ; 'tis our i,leasure. 

Feid. V\ hich 1 must serve, not argue. 

Hon. Vou are a stranger, 
15ut, in your service for the king, n native, 
And, though a free queen, I am bound in duty 
To cherish virtue wheresoe'er 1 find it : 
This place is yours. 

Math. It were presumption in me 
To sit so near you. 

Hon. Not having our warrant. 

Ladis. Let the n>askers enter: by the preparation, 
'Tis a Krench brawl, an apish imitation 
Of what you really perform in battle : 
And Pallas, bound up in a little volume, 
Apollo, with his lute, attending on her, 
Servo for the induction. 

Enter Maskers, Apoli-o wUh his lute, and Pallas: 
A Dance ; after which a Sotig* in praise of ike vic- 
torious soldier. 

Our thanks to all. 

To the banquet that's prepared to entertain them : 
\^Eieunt Mdikers, Apollo, and Pallas, 

What would my best Honoria ? 
Hon. .May it please 

My kiiip:, that I, who, by his suffrage, ever 

Have had power to command, may now entreat 

An honour from him. 

Ladis. \\ hy should vou desire 

What is vour own? whate'er it be, you are 

The mistress of it. 
Hon. I am happy in 

Your grant: my suit, sir, is, thai your commanders, 

Especially this stranger, may, as I 

In my discretion shall think good, receive 

What's due to their deserts. 
Ladis. What you determine 

Shall know no alteration. 
Eitbii. The soldier 

Is like to have good usage, when he depends 

Upon her pleasure ! Are all the men so bad,_ 

That, to give satisfaction, we must Lave 

A woman treasurer? Heaven lielp all ! 

Hon. With you, sir, [To Mathias. 



necessities. It is surprising liow seldom these repetitions 
occur ill Sliakfpeaie. When we consider how much he 
wrote, the exuberance of his resources will appear truly 
wondcit'iil. 

MasMnger seems to be indebted to Daniel for the original 
idea: 

For this great motion of a state, we see. 

Doth till ne on many wheels ; and some, though «ma/f. 
Do yet the yreater move, who in degree 

Slirre those «ho likewise turae the grcat'st of all." 

Philotai. 
• I don't think Massinger excels in writing son^s; there 
are none to be found in tliese plays that have any degree of 
mciii, and few that are even intelligible. — M. Mason. 

Tliis .song, which is evidently incomplete, I have lemoved 
to the ••nd of the play. From the stage direction, it would 
M'em as if the care of these ihinus had been left to the 
prompter. Just before we have " a song in praise of war;'' 
uid. in the following act, another, " on pleasure." 



I I will begin, and, as in my esteem 
Vou are most eminent, expect to have 
\V hut's tit for me to give, and you to take, 
The f.ivour in the quitk dispatch being double, 
Go fetch my casket, and with speed. 

[Exit Acanthtm 
Eubu. The kingdom 
Is Very bare of money, when rewards 
Issue from the queen's jewel-house .Give him goM 
And store*, no question the gentleman wants it. 
Good madam, what shall he do with a hoop ring,- 
And a spark of diamond in it, though you take it. 

Re-enter Acanthe with a Casket. 

For the greater honour, from your majesty's finger t 
'Twill not increase the value, lie must purchase 
Rich suits, the gay caparison of courtshipf, 
Kevel and feast, whiih, the war ended, is 
A soldier's glory ; and 'tis fit that way 
Your bounty should provide for him. 

Hon. You are rude, 
And by your narrow thoughts proportion mine. 
W hat I will do now shall be worth the envy 
Of Cleopatra. Open it ; see here 

Honoria descends from the «(ate. 
The lapidary's idol ! Gold is trash, 
And a poor salary, fit for grooms ; wear these 
As studded stars in your armour, and make the sim 
Look dim with jealousy of a greater light 
Than his beams gild the day with : when it is 
Exposed to view, call it Honoria's gift. 
The queen Honoria's gift, that loves a soldier ; 
And, to give ornament and lustre to him, 
Parts freely with her own ! Yet, not to take 
From the magnificence of the king, I will 
Dispense his bounty too, but as a page 
To wait on mine ; for other tosses t, take 
A hundred thousand crowns: — your hand, deiar 
sir,— [Takes off the king's signet. 

And this shall be thy warrant. 

Eubu. I perceive 
I was cheated in this woman : now she is 
In the giving vein to soldiers, let her be proud, 
AnAthe king dote, so she go on, 1 care not. 



Give him gold, 



And store,] This expression, which is taken Iroin an«lll 
ballad, liequeiitly occurs in these plays. 

t he must purchate 

Rich suilf, the gay comparison of courtship,] So II « 
prinlHl ill the old copy: the modern editor? have leforiiieA. 
the spelling, and it may be they have done well; )et, (lip- 
word occurs so frequently in our old dramatists, that I bdve> 
many doubts on the stibject. . 

1 11 The Double Falsehood, a play which Theobald attribule<l 
(o Shakspearo, but which I'ope, and his little knot of Critic*, 
f^vilh•>ut seeing tlie honour tluy did him), attecled to believe 
his own, are these pretty lines :- 

" I must stoop to gain her. 

Throw all my gay comparitont aside, 
And turn my proud adililions out of service." 
Comparisoits they changed, with great exultation over pool 
Theobtld, into capariso7is ; but had they ki.own, or coultj 
he have informed them, that the word was so spelt by 
every author of that age, it might, perhaps, have moileialefl 
the excess of their triumph Courtxhip, wliich is f»uud 
in the same line, signifies tne cost and magnitictucii of • 
court. , „ . 

J for other tosses, (al.v, Ac* 

Meaning, perhaps, in the sliulif manner in which t.lic iiollcc* 
this p.irt of lier bounty, /or trash to ftiny away. C<>M«er 
having iiegligtiilly prii'iied ios»p», observes on Im own blun- 
der, " this. Tarn apt to think should be, for other mti take.' 
and nothing more was wanted to induce .Mr. M. Alasim t» 
Ibruit i' into the text / 



t64 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act II. 



Hon. This done, our pleasure is, that all arrear 

ao-es* 
Bo paid unto the captains, and their troops ; • 
With a liirge donative, to increase their zeal 
For the service of the kingdom. 

Eubu. Metter still : 
l,et men of arms be used thus, if they do not 
Char^'e desperately upon the cannon's moutlis. 
Though the drvil' roar'd, and fight like dragons, 

hang me ! 
Now they may drink sack ; but small beer with a 

passport 
To beg with as they travel, and no money. 
Turns their red hlo'od to buttermilk. 

Hon. Are you pleased, sir, 
With what 1 have done 

Ludis. Yes, and thus confirm it 
With this addition of mine own : You have, sir, 
From our loved queen received some recompense 
For your life hazarded in the late action ; 
And', that we may follow her great example 
In cherishing valour, without limit ask 
What you from ns can wish. 

Math. If it be true, 
Dread sir, as 'tis affirm'd, that every soil. 
Where he is well, is to a valiant man 
His natural country, reason may assure me 
I should fix here, where ble.is'ings beyond hope. 
From you, the spnng, like rivers, flow unto me. 
If wealth were my ambition, by the queen 
I am made rich already, to the ainazement 
Of all that see, or shall liereafter read 
The story of her bounty; if to spend 
The remnant of my life in deeds of arms. 
No region is more fertile of good knights. 
From whom my knowledge that way may be bet- 

ter'd. 
Than this your warlike Hungary ; if favour, 
Or grace in court could take me, by your grant, 
Far, far beyond my merit, I may make 
In yours a free election ; but, alas ! sir, 
I am not mine own, hut by my destiny 
(Which I cannot resist) forced to prefer 
My country's smoke, before the glorious fire 
With which your bounties warm me. All I ask,«ir, 
'I'hough I cannot be ignorant it must relish 
Of foul ingratitude, is your gracious license 
For my de])arture. 

Ladis. Whither 1 
. Miith. To my own homo, sir. 
My own poor home ; which will, at my return, 
Grow rich by your magnificence. I am here 
But a body without a soul ; and, till I find it 
In the embraces of my constant wife. 
And, to set off that constancy, in her beauty 
And matchless excellencies without a rival, 
I am but half myself. 

Hon. And is she then 
So chaste and fair as you infer? 

Math. O, madam, 
Though it must argue weakness in a rich man, 
To show his gold before an armed thief, 
And I; in praising of my wife, but feed 
The fire of lust in others to attempt her ; 
Such is my full-sail'd confidence in her virtue. 
Though in my absence she were now besieged 

• that all arrearages] This 

woijJ,. I know not why, the moiicrn editors discard for 
arrews- 



By a strong army of lascivious wooers. 
And every one moi'e expert in his art, 
Than those that templed clia>te Penelope; 
'I'hough thev raised batteries by prodigal gifts, 
By amorous letters, vo^^s maile for her service, 
With all the engines wanion appetite 
Could mount to shake <he fortress of her honour, 
Here, here is my assurance she holds out, 

[/I'ls^e* the picturt 
And is impregnable. 

Hon. What's that? 

Math. Her fair figure. 

Ladis. As I live, an excellent face!. 

Hon. You have s6en a better. 

Ladis. I ever except yours*: — nay, frown not, 
siveelest. 
The Cyprian queen, compared to you, in my 
Opinion, is a negro. As you order'd, 
I'll see the soldiers paid ; and, in my absence. 
Pray you use your j'Owerful arguments, to stajr 
This gentleman in our ^ervice. 

Hon I will do 
My parts. 

Ladis. On to the camp. 

l^Eieiint Ladislaus, Ferdinand, Eubulitt, 
Baptista, Captains, and others. 

Hon. I am full of thoughts. 
And something there is here I must give form to, 
Though vet an embryon : you, signiors, 
Have no business with the soldier, as 1 fake it, 
You are for other warfare; quit the place. 
But be within call. 

liic. Employment, on mv life, boy ! 

Ubald. If it lie in. our road, we are made for ever 
[Exeunt Uhaldo and lUcardo. 

Hon. You mav perceive the king is no way tainted 
With the disease of jealousy, since he leaves me 
Thus private with you. 

Math. It were in him, madam, 
A sin unpardonable to distrust such pureness, 
Though- 1 were an Adonis. 

Hon. I presume 
lie neither does nor dares: and yet the story 
Delivered of you by the general, 
With your heroic courage, which sinks deeply 
Into a knowing woman's heart, besides 
Your promising presence, might beget some scruple 
In a meaner man ; but more of this hereafter. 
I'll take another theme now, and conjure you 
By the honours you have won, and by the love 
Sacred to your dear wife, to answer truly 
To vvhat I shall demand. 

Math. You need not use 
Charms to this purpose, madam. 

Hon. Tell me, then. 
Being yourself assured 'tis not in man 
To sully with one spot th' immaculate whiteness 
Of your wife's honour, if you have not, since 
The Gordian of your love was tied by marriage, 
I'lay'd false with her? 

Moth. By the hopes of mercy, never. 
Hon. It may be, not frequenting the converse 
Of handsome bdies, you were never tempted, 
And so your faith's untried yet. 

• Ladis. I ever except yours: — nu;,;, frown not, sweetest,] 
Till? line stands thus in the modern editions: 

Ladis. / .' ne'er, except yours ; nay, frown not, sweetest ; 
which is tlie perfection of tiisle and liaimony : the old copy 
reads as I liave );iven it. 



Scene I.l 



THE PICTURE. 



SC 



Math. Surely, m-idatn, 
I am no womnii-liater ; I have been 
Received to the society of the best 
And fairest of our chniaie, and have met with 
No conunoii entertainment, yet ne'er felt 
The least heat tliat way. 

Hon. Siranue ! and do you think still. 
The earih can show no beauiy that i an drench 
Jn Lethe all remembrance of the favour 
You now bear to your own ? 

Mutli. Nature must find out 
Some other mould to fasliion a new creature 
Fairer than her Pandora, ere 1 prove 
Guilty, or in ray wishes or my thoughts, 
To my Sophia. 

Hon. Sir, consider better ; 
Not one in our whole sex ? 

Math. I am constant to 
My resolution. 

Hon. But dare you stand 
I'he ojniosition, and bind yourself 
By oaih for the performance ? 

Math. My laith else 
Had hut a weak foundation. 

Hon, I take hold 
Upon your promise, and enjoin your stay 
Fox one month here. 

Moth. 1 am caught. 

Hon. And if 1 do not 
Produce a lady, in that time, that shall 
Make you confess your error, I submit 
Alyself to any penalty you bhall please 
To impose upon me : in the mean space, write 
To )Our chaste wile, acquaint her with your fortune: 
The jewels that were mine you may send to Ler, 



For better confirmation : I'll provide you 

Of trusty niessens;er» ; but how far distant is shel 

Math. A day's hard riding. 

Hon. There is no retiring ; 
I'll bind you to your word. 

Math. Well, since there is 
No way to shun it, I will stand the hazard, 
And instantly make ready my dispatch : 
'lill then, I'll leave your majesty. [Exit 

Hon. How I burst 
With envy, that there lives, besides myself. 
One fair and loyal woman ! 'twas the end 
Of my ambition to be recorded "■ 

'J he only wonder of the age, and shall I 
Give way to a competitor! Nay, more. 
To add to my affliction, the assurances 
That I placed in my beauty have deceived me: 
1 thought one amorous glance of mine could bring 
All liearts to my subjection ; but this stranger 
Unmoved as rocks, coTitemns me. But 1 cannot 
Sit down so with mine honour: I will gain 
A double victory, by working liim 
To my desire, and taint her in her honour,. 
Or lose myself: 1 have read, th.it sometime poisoc 
Is useful. — To s ipplant her, I'll employ 
With any cost, Ubaklo and Ricardo, 
Two noted courtiers, of a}ipr6ved cunnings 
In all the windings of lust's labyrinth ; 
And in corrupting him, I will outgo 
Nero's Poppa;a ; if he shut his ears 
Against my syren notes. Til boldly swear 
Ulysses lives aj;ain : or that I have found 
A frozen cynic*, cold in spite of all 
Allurements ; one whom beauty cannot move. 
Nor softest blandishments entice to love. [Eiit. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. — Bohemia. A Space near the Entrancs 
of Mathias' Hou^n. 

Enter Hilario, with a pitcher oj' water and a wallet. 

Hit. Thin, thin provision! 1 am dieted 
Like one set to watch hawks ; and, to keep me 

waking. 
My croaking guts make a perpetual lariim. 
Here I stand centinel ; and, though I fright 
Beggars from my lady's gate, in hope to have 
A greater share, I find my commons mend not, 
I look'd this morning in mv glass, the river. 
And there appear'd a fish call'd a poor .Tolin*, 
Cut will) a lenten face, in my own likeness ; 
And it seem'd to speak, and say, Goi.d-morrow, 

cousin ! 
No man comes this way but has a fling at me: 
A surgeon passing by. ask'd at what late 
I would sell myself; I a'^swer'd. For wiiat usel 
To make, said he, a living anatomy. 
And set thee up in our hidl, for tliMi art transparent 
Without dissection ; and, indeed, he had reason 

-a fish call d a poor John, J 



I.e. dried liake. It occurs in 1 he Ciuirdian: 

'' Or live, lik« a Carihusiiin, ua poor John." 



For I am scour'd with this poor purgef to notbing. 
They say that hunger dwells in the camp ; but till 
My lord returns, or certain tidings of him. 
He will not' part with me : — but sorrow's dry, 
And I must drink howsoever. 

Enter Ubai.do, Ricardo, and a Guide. 

Guide. 'Jliat's her castle, 
Ujion my certain knowledge. 

Ubnld Our horses held out 
To my desire. I am afire to be at it. 

JRic Take the jades for thy reward ; before I 
part hence, 

• or that I have found 

A frozen cynic, &c.] I donbl wliellier the qnecii was well 
reail in the cliardi-ti ris-iics oi'lliedilltrent sects. The cynics 
wanteil little alliiitnit'nt ; thf niodeslest of them wouhl have 
nut ncr advances niciiv than hall' way : biitperhap! herma- 
jcsiy meant Id say sfnic. This lady i« of a most iinaniiable 
character. Her vanil> , which she mistakes for aniliilion, is 
excessive; iind her eagerness to "ratify it, deltstahle in the 
extreme, hhe is chasle from temperament, but licentioat 
from indnlwence. 

t For I am scour'd with this poor pnr<;e tn nothing.^ S* 
the old copies; ilie modern eilitors read, with tliit poor por- 
ridi;e: but whether out of delicacy, or to improve the m<;trc, 
I cannot say. 



966 



THE PICTURE, 



[Act IIT. 



I hope to be better carried. Give me the cabinet : 
So; leave us now 

Guide. Good fortune to you, f>;allants ! [Exit. 

UbuUi. Bein<;- joint agents, in a design of trust too, 
For the ^ervic^' of tlie (|ueen, atid our own pleasure, 
Let us ))roceed with judgment. 

Itic. If I take not 
This fort at the fiist assault, make me an eunuch. 
So I may have ])reredence. 

Uhald. On no terms. 
We aie both to play one prize ; he that works best 
In the searching- of this mine, shall carry it 
Without contention. 

Ric. Make )ou your approaches 
As I directed. 

Ubald. 1 need no instrjcticn ; 
I work not on vour anvil. I'll give fire 
With mine own linstock ; if the powder be dank, 
Tlie devil rend the touch-hole ! Who have we here? 
What skeleton's this ? 

Uic. A ghost ! or the image of famine ! 
Where dosi thou dwell 1 

Hit. Dwell, sir! mv dwelling is 
In the highway : that goodly house was once 
My habitation, but 1 am banish'd, 
Atid cannot be call'd home till news arrive 
Of the good knight Mathias. 

liic. If that will 
Restore thee, thou art safe. 

Uhald. We come from him, 
With presents to his lady. 

JIU. Hut, are you sure 
He is in health ? , 

Ric. Never so well : conduct us 
To the lady. 

Hit, Though a poor snake, I will leap 
Out of my skin for joy. Break, pitcher, break I 
And wallet, late my cupboard, I bequeath thee 
To the next beggar ; thou, red herring, swim 
To the Red Sea'aa-ain : meihinks 1 am already 
Knuckle deep in the fleshpots ; and, though waking, 

dream 
Of wine and plenty ! 

7?i<r. What's the mystery 
Of this strange passion? 

Hil My belly, gentlemen, 
Will not give me leave to tell you ; when I have 

brought you 
To my lady's presence, 1 am disenchanted : 
'i'here you" shall know all. Follow ; if i outstrip you, 
Know 1 run for mv belly. 

Ubald. A mad fellow. . [Exeunt. 



SCENE 11.—^ Boom in Mathias' House. 
Enter Sop;n,» and Corisca. 

Soph. Do not again delude me. 

Cor'S. If I do, 
Send me a grazing with my fellow Hilario*. 
I stood, as you commanded, in the turret, 
Observing all that pass'd by ; and even now 
[ did discern a pair of cavaliers, 



• .^end mea yrasing with my fcWow fHlario,] i.e. my fel- 
l0H'-seiv;iiit. Even litis simple rxpres^ioii cnnnot escnpe 
•he evcr-meddlint; delicacy of Mr. M. Mason: he alters it 
to— my frierd Hilario 1 



' For such their outside si)oke them, with their guide. 
Dismounting from their horses ; thevsaid something 
To our hungry centinel, that made him caper 
And frisk in tlie air for joy : and, to confirm this, 
See, madam, they're in view. 

Enter MiLARio, Ubaldo, a/(rf Ricardo. 

///'/. \ ews from my lord ! 
Tidings of joy ! these are no counterfeits, 
But knights indeed. Dear madam, sign my pardon. 
That i may feed again, and pick up my crumbs j 
I have had a long fast of it. 

Soph. Eat, I forgive thee. 

mi. O comfortable words! Ei it, I forgive thee! 
And if in this I do not soon obey you. 
And ram in to the purpose, billet me again 
In the highway, liutler and cook, be ready, 
For I enter like a tyrant. [Exit. 

Uhald. Since mine eyes 
Were never hajipv in so sweet an object, 
Without inquiry, I presume you are 
I'he lady of tlie house, and so salute you*. 

Ric. This letter, with these jewels, from your lord. 
Warrant my boldness, madam. 

[Delivers a letter and a casluiU 

Ubald. In being a servant 
To such rare beauty, you must needs deserve 
This courtesy from a stranger. [Salutes Corisca, 

Ric. You are still 
Beforehand with me. Pretty one, I descend 
To take the height of your lip; and, if I miss 
In the altitude, hereafter, if you jilease, 
I will make use of my Jacob's staff. [Salutes Corisca, 

Coris. I hese gentlemen 
Have certainly had good breeding, as it appears 
By their neat kissing, they hit ine so pat on the lips 
At the first sight. 

[In the interim, Sophia reads the letter, and 
opens the casket. 

Soph. Heaven, in thy mercv, make me 
Thy thankful handmaid for this boundless blessing. 
In thy goodness shower'd upon me! 

Uhiild. I do not like 
This simple devotion in her; it is seldom 
Practised among my mistresses. . 

Rir. Or mine. 
Would they kneel to 1 know not who, for the posses- 
sion 
Of such inestimable wealth, before 
They thank'd the briiigers of it ? the poor lady 
Does want instruction, but 111 be her tutor, 
And read her another lesson. 

Soph. If I have 
Shown want of manners, gentlemen, in my slowness 
To pay the thanks I owe you for your travail. 
To do my lord and me, howe'cr unworthy 
Of such a benefit, this noble favour. 
Impute it, in your clemency, to the excess 
Of joy that overwhelm'd me. 

liic. She speaks well. 

Ubald. Polite and courtly. 

*The lady nf the house, and so lalute you.\ i. «■. as such: 
Mr. M. Mason, not s.iti-fied with this, relnrms the text, and 
prints- anrf do salute you. Tlie reader cannoi be iiiorB 
weary of these eternal corrections, than iiiy>elf. I lament 
that it is necessary, for both our sakes, to notice a ceitain 
portion of them in this way (all, is impossible), lest I shouhl 
be snspecled of capriciously deviating from the text of my 
prcdece<son. 



Scene IV.] 



THE PICTURE. 



26r 



Soph. And howe'er it may 
Increase the offence, to trouble you with more 
Demands toucliing- my lord, before I liave 
Invited you to taste such as the coarseness 
Of my poor Iiouse can offer; pray you connive 
On my weak tenderness, lhou;;li I entreat 
To learn from you something he hath, it may be. 
In his letter left unmention'd. 

Ric. I can only 
Give you assurance that he is in health, 
Graced by .ihe king' and queen. 

Uliald. And in the court 
With admiration look'd on. 

Ric. \ou must therefore 
Put oft" these widow's garments, and appear 
Like to yourself. 

Ubuhl. And entertain all pleasures 
Your fortune marks out for you. 

Ric. 'Ihere are other 
Particular privacies, which on occasion 
I will deliver to you. 

Soph. You oblige me 
To your service ever. 

Ric. Good! your service ; mark that. 

Soph, In the mean time, by your good acceptance 
make 
My rustic entertainment relish of 
The curioushess of the court. 

Ubuld. Your looks, sweet madam, 
Cannot but nnike each dish a feast. 

Soph. It shall be 
Such, in the freedom of my will to please you. 
I'll shew you the w;iy ; this is too great an honour, 
from such brave guests, to me so mean an hostess. 

{^Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— Hungary. An Outer Room in 
Palace, 



the 



Enter Acanthe, and four or five Servants in visors*. 

. Acan, You know your charge ; give it action, and 

exjiect 
Rewards beyoiid your hopes. 

1 Sew, If we but eye tliem. 
They are ours 1 warrant you. 

2 Serv. Way we not ask why 
We are put upon this ? 

Acan. Let that stop your mouth : 

[Cii'es them money. 
And learn more manners, groom. 'Lis upon the hour 
In which they use to walk here : when you have them 
In your power, with violence carry them to the place 
Where I ap|ioiiited ; there I will expect you : 
Be bold and careful. [Ex't. 

Enter Mathias and Baptista. 

1 Seru. 'J'liese are they. 

2 Serv Are you sure 1 

1 Serv. Am 1 sure I am myself? 

2 Serv. Seixeon him strongly ; if hehavebiJtmeans 
To draw his svvoril, 'tis ten to one we smart for't : 
Take all advantages. 



'Enter Acanthe, and Jour or Jive Servants in visors.] 
Tlie »l(l slasie (liri-cliiiii is, Ealfr Acanthe, two. Jour or Jive 
teith vizdrds ; i. e. smcIi a iitiiiil)t.'i a^ the ftage could cmivc- 
Iiit'iilly >iiii|(ly. Tlie uilitois lu.l sutii'g tlii.-, have priiittil, 
Enter AiMi.tlie t" Jonr or Jit e, Hiv. but lliisis wioiis;, lur tliey 
kll apiit.Mr toi;c'liur. 



-J 

I cannot 



Math. 1 cannot guess 
What her intents are ; but her carriage was 
As I but now related. 

Bapt. Your assurance 
In the co:istancy of your lady is the armour 
That must defend you. Where's the picture I 

Math. Here, 
And no way alter'd. 

Bapt, If she be not perfect. 
There is no truth in art. 

Moth. By this, I hope, 
She liath received my letters. 

Bapt, Without question : 
These courtiers are rank riders, when they are 
To visit a handsome lady. 

Math. Lend me your ear. 
One jiiece of her entertainment will require 
Your dearest privacy. 

1 Serv. Now they stand fair ; 
Upon them. [.They rush forward. 

Maih. Villains! 

1 Serv. Sto)) their mouths. We come not 
To try your valours; kill him if he offer 
To ope his mouth. We have you : 'tis in vain 
To make resistance. Mount them and away. 

[^Exeunt with Mutliius and Baptists. 



SCENE IV.— ^ Gallery in the same. 
Enter Servantswithlighls, Ladisi.aus, Fehdivand, and 

El'BULUS. 

Ladis, 'Tislate. Go to your rest; hut do notenvy 
The hiii)piness I draw near to. 

Eubu. If you enjoy it 
The moderate way, ihe sport yields, I confess, 
A pretty titillation ; but too much off 
Will bring you on your knees. In my younger days 
I was myself a gamester ; and I found 
By sad experience, there is no such soaker 
As a young spongy wife : she keeps a thousand 
Horse-leeches in her box, and the thieves will suck out 
Both blood and inarro\v ! I feel a kind of cnimp 
In my joints when I think on't : but it may be 

queens. 
And such a queen as yours is, has the art 

Ferd, Vou take leave 
To talk, my lord. 

Ladis, Me may, since he can do nothing. 

Eubu, If you spend this way too much of your 
royal stock. 
Ere long we may be puefellows. 

Ladis, The door shut ! 
Knock gently ; harder. So here comes her woman. 
Take off my gown. 

Enter Acanthe. 

Aca7t, My lord, the queen by me 
This night desires your pardon. 

Ladis, How, Acanthe I 
I come by her appointment ; 'twas Let grao* .* 
'J'h.e motion was her own. 

Acan. It may be, sir; 
But by her doctors she is since advised. 
For her health's sake, to forbear. 

Eubu, 1 do not like 
This physical letchery, the old downrigLt FftV 
Is worth a thousand on't. 

Ladis, I'rithee, Acantiie, 
Alediate for me. 



268 



THK PICTURE. 



[Act III. 



f.Vhit. O t).e fiends of hell ! 
Would auy man bribe bis servant, to m-.ike way 
To his own wife? if tliis be the court state, 
Shame fall on such as use it! 

jirau. Us' tins jewel. 
This night I dare not move her, but to-morrow 
I will wuich all occasions. 

Ladis. TiiKP this. 
To be mindful of me. \^Exit Acanthe. 

Euhu. '61iL;bt, I thought a king 
Might have la'en up any v^-onian at the king's price. 
And must lie buy his own, at a dearer rate 
Than a stringer in a brothel? 

Ladis. What is that 
You mutter, >ir ? 

Eithit. No treason to your honour: 
I'll speak it out, though it anger you ; if you pay for 
Your lawful pleasure in some kind, great sir. 
What do you make the queen? canrot you clicket 
Without a fee, or when she has a suit 
For you to grant ? 

F'eid. I) iiold-, sir! 

Ladis O'i with his head 

Euhu. Do, when vou please; you but blow out 
a taper [oft 

That would light your understanding, and, in care 
Is burnt down to the socket. Be as vou are sir, 
An absolute monarch : it did show more king-like 
In tliose libidinous Cajsars, that compell'd 
Matrons and virgins of all ranks to bow 
Unto their ravenous lusts; and ('id admit 
Of more e.\cuse than I can urge for yo:i, 
Tiiat slave yourself to the imperio..s humour 
Of a proud beauty. 

Liulis. Out of my sight! 

Euba I will, sir. 
Give way to yoar furious passion ; but when reason 
Hath got the bitter of it, 1 much hope 
Tlie counsel that offends now will deserve 
Your loyal thanks. Tranquillily of mind 

Stay witli you, sir! 1 do begin to doubt [than 

There's something more in (he queen's strangeness 

Is yet disclosed ; and I will find it out. 

Or lose myself in the search. [^Exit. 

E'erd. Sure he is honest, 
And from your infancy hath truly served you ; 
Let tiiat ])iead for him; and impute this harshness 
To the frowardnesi of his age. 

Ladis. I am much troubled. 
And do begin to stagger. Ferdinand, good night! 
To-morrow visit us. Back to our own lodgings. 

[^Exeunt. 



SCENE V. — Another Boom in the same. 

Enter Acanthe avd thevisoredServant^.uiih Mathias 
and BAPTistA blindfolded. 

Acan. You have done biavely. Lock lliis in that 
room. 
There let him ruminate ; I'll anon unhood him : 

[^Theu carry off Baplista. 
The other must stay here. As soon as 1 
Have quit tiie place, give him the liberty 
And use of his eyes; that done, disperse yourselves 
As pr...aroiy as you on : but, on your lives, 
No woid of whai haiii pass'd. [Eait. 

1 Sen. l\' 1 do. sell 
My tDngiie to a tripe-wife. Come, unbind his arms ; 
You are now at your own disposure ; and however 



We used you roughly, I hope vou will find here 
Such entertainment as will give vou cause 
To thank us for the service : and so 1 leave you*. 

[ExeusU 

Math. If I am in prison, 'tis a neat one. 
What (Edipus can resolve tliis riddle ? Ha ! 
I never gave just cause to any man 
Basely to plot against my life : — but what is 
Become of my true friend ? for him I sufi'er 
More than niyself. 

Acan. [wi hiH.\ Remove that idle fear ; 
He's safe as you are. 

Math. Whosoe'er thou art, 
For him I ihank thee. I cannot imagine 
Where I should be: though I have read the tales 
Of errant-knighthood, stutt'd with the relations 
Of magical enchantments ; yet 1 am not 
So sottishly credulous to believe the devil 
Hath that way power. \^Mnsic above.] Ha! music! 

The blushing rose, and purple flower. 
Let grow too long, aie soonest blasted ; 

Dainty fruits, though sweet, will sour, 
And rot in ripeness, lelt untasted. 

Yet here is one more sweet t an these : 

The more you taste the more she'll j)lease 

Beauty that's enclosed with ice, 

Is a shadow chaste as rare ; 
Then how mucli those sweets entice, 

That have issue full as fair! 
Earth cannot yield from all her powers 
One equal for dame Venus' bowersf. 

A song too! certainly, be it he or she 
That owes this voice, it hath no; been acquainted 
Willi much affliction. Whosoe'er you are 
That do inhabit here, if you have bodies. 
And are not mere aiirial forms, ap|)ear, 

Enter llo'soRi a, mashed. 

And make me know yourend with me. Moststrange' 
Wliat have I conjured up? sure, if this be 
A spirit, it is no darnn'd one. What a sha]ie's here! 
Then, with what majesty it moves ! If Juno 
Were now to keep her state among tiie gods. 
And Hercules to be made again her guest. 
She could not jiut on a more glorious hubit, 
Though her handmaid. Iris, lent her various colours. 
Or old Oceanus ravish'd from the deep 
All jewels shipwreck'd in it. As you have 
'I'Lus far made known yourself, if that your face 
Have not too much divinity about it 
For mortal eyes to gaze on, jierlect wliat 
You have begun, with wonder and amazement 



and so I leave you ] Tims ilie quarto: 



the modern cdilori, but Uss prupurly, and so we leave you 
+ 'J'liis Sdiig |iuls me in miii<l ot .SvmI'I » love-soni;, 

" Ciijiid, Sjiread lliy purple pinions, 

Sweetly waving o'er my head," — &c. 
and seems to liave as litile iiFeaning in il. — M. Mason. 

Truly lliere is " no great maiier in llie song," as th 
Clown s:<ys : yet it is not altogalier .-lO devoid ot meaning 
as iliat wliicli Mr. M. Mason lias qiiolid «ilii siuli laudable 
correctness ; nor absolutely foreisin lo tlie design in agitation. 
In the tir-t line of the seeoiid stanza, the editors read 
Ihouyhfor that s ; ihe word is mispiinud in the quarto, and 
I have been reilnci-d to gness ai it 'J'lie siage dir. clioii here 
is. Music above, a aony of pleasure : iVom which it seenii 
that no Sling was origiiia ly provi leil by tlie amhor. Indeed, 
it is a doubt with iiie, wliellur most ut' these things wcr« 
Mot supplied by the poet in waiting. 



Scene V.] 



THE PICTURE. 



S69 



To my asfonish'd senses. [Honoria unmushs.'] How ! 
the queen ! [Kneels. 

Hon. Rise, sir, and hear my reasons, in defence 
Of the rape (for so you may conceive) which I, 
By my instruments, made upon you. Vou, perhaps, 
May think what you have sufter'd for my lust 
Is a common jiraciice with me ; hut I call 
Those ever-shininn- lamps, and tiieir yreat Maker, 
As witiies-^es of my innocence: 1 neVr look'd on 
A man hut your best self, on whom I ever 
(Except the kins^) vouchsafed an eye of favour. 

Math. The king, indeed, and only such a king, 
Deserves your rarities, madam ; and, but he, 
'Twere giant-like ambiliqn iti any 
Jn his wishes only, to presume to taste 
The nectar of your kisses ; or to feed 
His ajipeiite with that ambrosia, due 
And jiroper to a prince; and, what binds more, 
A lawful husband. For myself, great queen, 
I am a thins; obscure, disfuriiish'd of 
All merit, that can raise me higher than. 
In my most iiumble thankfulness for your bounty, 
To hazard my life for you ; and that way 
I am most amlutious. 

Hon. 1 desire no more 
Than what you promise. If you dare expose 
Your life, as you profess, to do me service. 
How can it better be employ 'd than in 
Preserving mine? which only you can do, 
And must do, with the danger of your own ; 
A desjier.ite danger too ! Il private men 
Can brook no rivals in what they affect. 
But to the death pursue such as invade 
What law makes their inheritance ; the king, 
To who:ii you know I am desirer than his crown, 
His heailli, his eyes, his after hopes, with all 
His [iresent blessings, must fall on that man. 
Like dreadful lightning, that is won by prayers. 
Throats, or rewards, to slain his bed, or make 
His hoped-for issue doubtful. 

M'th. If you aim 
At wliat I more than fear you do, the reasons 
Which you deliver should, in judi;ment, rather 
Deter me, than invite a grant, with my 
Assured ruin. 

Hon. True ; if that you were 
Of a cold temper, one whom doubt, or fear, 
In the most horrid forms they could put on, 
Might teach to be ingrateful. Your denial 
To me, that have deserved so much, is more, 
If it can have addition. 

Maih. 1 know not 
Wiiut your commands are. 

Hon. Have you fought so well 
Among arm'd men, yet cannot guess what lists 
You are to enter, when you are in private 
With a willing lady : one, that, to enjoy 
Your company this night, denied the king 
Access to what's his awn ? If vou will press me 
To speak in plainer language 

Miith. Pray you, forbear ; 
I would I did not understand too much ! 
Already, by your wor.ls, I am instructed 
To ( redit that, which, not confirm 'd by you, 
• Had bred suspicion in me of untruth, 
Thous;h an angel had affirm'd it. But suppose 
That, cloy'd with happiness, which is ever built 
On virtuous chastity, in the wantonness 
Of appetite, you desire to make trial 
Of the false delights proposed by vicious lust ; 



Among ten thousand, every way more able 
And apier to be wrought on, sucii as owe you 
Obedience, being your subjects, why should you 
Make choice of me a sti anger? 

Hon. 'I'hotigh yet leaeon 
Was ne'er adniittt d in the court of love, 
I'll yield you one nnanswerable. As I urged, 
In our last private* conference, you have 
A pretty promising ]iresence ; hut there are 
Many, in limbs and feature, who may take. 
That way, the right-hand file of vou : besides, 
Your May of youth is past, and the blood spentf 
Bv wounds, though bravely taken, renders you 
Disabled for love's service: and that valour 
Set ofi witli better fortune, which, it may be. 
Swells you above vour hounds, is not the hook 
J'hat hath caught me, good sir. 1 need no champion 
With his sword, to guani my honour or mv btauty ; 
In both I can defend myself, and live 
My own protection. 

Ma*h. if these advocates. 
The best that can ])leail for me, have no power, 
What can yon find in me else, that may tempt you, 
With irrecoverable loss unto yourself, 
To be a gainer from me ! 

Hon. You have, sir, 
A jewel of such matcliless worth and lustre. 
As does disdain comparison, and darkens 
All that is nire in other men ; and that 
I must or win or lessen. 

Math. \'ou heap more 
Amazement on me : What am I possess''! of 
That you can covet? make uie understand it. 
If it have a name. 

Hon. Yes, an imagined one ; 
But is, in substance, nothing ; being a garment 
Worn out ot fashion, and long since given o'er 
By the court and country : 'tis your loyalty 
And constancy to your wife ; 'tis that 1 dote on, 
And does deserve iny ev.vy : and that jewel. 
Or by fair play or foul. I must win irom you. 

Malh. These are mere contraries. If you love 
me, madam. 
For my constancy, why seek you to destroy it? 
In my keei)ing it preserve me worth your favour J. 
Or, if it be a jewel of ihat value, 
As you with labour'd rhetoric would persuade me. 
What can you stake against it? 

Hon. A (pieen's fame. 
And equal hoi:our. ' 

Math. So, whoever wins. 
Both shall be lose:"s. 

• /?! our latt privHte conferencf, you have] Mr M. 
Mason omits private, tliougli iib.solultly ntcesjary to th* 
miasuie. 

+ and the bIoo<l spent 

By woniwls, fico.] We li.ive already had lliis conceit in 
The Parliament of I.ove : 

" Tlii)ni;li hiinonr <l in onr manly ivound*, well taken. 

You say lliey do deform us, and the loss 

Of much blood that way, renders us ur.tit 

To pleasK- yon in your ch .nibers." Act I. sc. 3. 

X Jn my keipimi it pieserve me worth yovr favour.] So 
the old copy, and sniily ri;;litly : " If yon love ine lor my 
constancy, why fh. yon .seek to destroy it f Vi'l'y not rather, 
in alloAiiig inc to keep il, sutler r.ie to remain a proper, 
object of your knidnes< !" Thi.< seems lobe ilie drift of the 
argument. Coxeier not adverting to this, re.ids, 

Jn mv hepinij it preserves me worth your favour ! 
And Mr. M. Mason, iinirovini; ii|)on him, alters Jn to If, 
removes the point, and runs die line inln die nevl sentence: 

If my lire[iiny, it preserves me worth your favour 

Or, if it be, CkC. 
But where is Mussinger all this while } 



£70 



THE PICTURE. 



[A IT m. 



Hon. 'I'liat is tliiit* 1 aim at. 
Yet on the die I lay my voiitli, my beauty, 
This moist palm, this soft lip, and those delights 
Datkru^ss should only jud;;e of. Do you find them 
Infectious in the tiiaj, that you start, 
As fri<:;hted with their tout-h ? 

Malh. Is it in man 
To resist such strong temptations ? 

Hon. lie begins 
To waver. 

Math. Madam, as you are gracious, 
Grant this short night's deliberation to me ; 
And, with the rising sun, from me you shall 
Receive full satisfaction. 

Hon. 'Jhough extremes 
Hate all delay, 1 will deny you nothing ; 
This key will bring you to your friend; you are 

safe botli ; 
And all things useful that could be prepared 
For one I love and honour, wait upon you. 
Take counsel of your pillow, such a fortune 
As with affection's swiftest wings flies to you, 
Will not be often tender'd. [Exit. 

MiUh. How mv blood 
Rebels ! I now could call her back — and yet 
There's something slays me : if the king had ten- 
der'd 
Such favours to my wife, fis to be doubted 
They had nof been refused : but, being a man, 
I should pot yield first, or prove an example 
For her defence of i'railiy. By this, sans question, 
8he'e tempted too ; and here 1 may examine 

[Liid/vS oil the picture. 
How she holds out. She's still liie same, ihe same 
Pure crystal rock of (hasiit\. I'erisli all 
Allurements that may alter me ! 'J'he snow 
Of her sweet coldness hath extinguish'd (juite 
The fire tiiit but even now begun to flame : 
And 1 by her confirm "il,— rewards nor titles, 
Nor certain death troin the refused (pieen. 
Shall shake my fuitii ; since 1 resolve to be 
Loyal to her, as she is true to me. \_Eiit. 



SCENE Vlt. — Bohemia. A Boom m Mathias' 
House. 

Enter Uualdo and RiCAttuo. 

Ubald. What we speak on the voley t begins to 
work , 
We have laid a good foundation. 

Hie. IWiild it up. 
Or else 'tis nothing : you have by lot the honour 
Of the iir.it a>sault, but, as it is condiiiou'd. 
Observe the time proportion'd : I'll nut part with 
My share in the achievement : when 1 whistle. 
Or hem, fall off. 



• H<iii. T/iaf 7» lli.it / aim at.] EvtTy uliere llie mocicrn 
editors 1^1). mi- to (lesmv all tiMces <>l llu; plii.iseology of 
Massintic.'s ii;;.:. Tiny ie-id, '//ml is >vli,it / aim at. 

t SCKNE VI. I Mr. M. M,i.«.m,(liM.riliii liis i.M yiiide, does 
not make tliU a new scene ; ilioiii;li the cli.iiisje of |)lace is 
from the pil.iie i.r L.^(li^lalls tu lire distant residence of 
Sopiiia ! 

j Ubal I. Il'fiaf we speak on the vnley .] A llleial translation 
of tlie Freneli phrase a-lii volee, wlucli sigiiities at random, 
or inconsidfiatrly. - M. Mason. 
Thus ill The Setu Inn 

" — yiiii must not give credit 

T" all tli.it ladies piililiely {iii less, 

(U talk o' llie voley luitiX tlieir servants. 



E,:tev Sophia. 

Vhald. She comes. Stand by, I'll watch 
My opportunity. [lliey ualk aside. 

Soph. I find myself 
Strangely distracted with the various stories. 
Now well, now ill, then doubtfully, by my yuests 
Deliver'd of my lord ; and, like poor beggars 
That in their dreams find treasure, by refieclion 
Of a wounded fancy, make it questionable 
Whether thev sleep or not ; yet, tickled with 
Such a fantastic hope of hapjiiness. 
Wish they may never wake. In some such measure 
Incredulous of what I see and touch, 
As 'twere a fading apparition, I 
Am still perplex'd, and troubled ; and when most 
Confiim'd tis true, a curious jealousy 
To be assured, by what means, and from whom 
Such a mass of wealth was first deserved, then 

gotten. 
Cunningly steals into me. I have practised. 
For my certain resolution, with these courtiers, 
Promising private conference to either, 
And, at this hour : if in search of the truth, 
I hear, or say, more than btcomes i^y virtue, 
Forgive me, mv Mathiiis. 

L'huld. Now I make in. — \^Co7)ieiJorward, 

Madam, as you command, I attend 
Your pleasure. 

Soph. I must thank you for the favour. 

Uhald. I am no ghostly father ; yet if yon have 
Some scruples touching your lord, you would be 

resolved of, 
I am prepared. 

Soph, lint will you take your oath. 
To answer truly ? 

Uhald. On tiie hem of your smock, if you please, 
A vow 1 dare not break, it being a book 
I would gladly swear on. 

Si'ph. To spare, sir, that trouble, 
I'll take your word, which, in a gentleman. 
Should be of ei|uui value. Is my lord, then. 
In sucii grace with the (|ueen f 

Uhiild. \oii sliould best know- 
By what vou have found from bin), whether he can 
Deserve* a grace or no. 

Soph. \\ hat grace do you mean ? 

Ubald. That special -race, if you will have it, he 
Labour'd so hard for between a pair of siieets. 
Upon your wedding nigiit, when your ladyship 
Lost you know what. 

5'i>;)/i. Fie ! be more modest, 
Or 1 must leave you. 

Ubald. I would tell a truth 
As cleaidy as I could, and yet the subject 
i\iakes me run out a little. 

Soi>h. You would put, now, 
A foolish jealousy in my head, my lord 
Hath gotten a new mistress. 

Uhald. One! a hundred ;j 
But under seal 1 speak it : Ipresume 
Upon your silence, it being for your profit. 
They talk of Hercules' fifty in a nightf, 
'Twas well ; but yet to yours he was a piddUr; 
Such a soldier and a courtier never cainc 

* Deserve a yrace or no ] The article is oiiiilitd by bott 
the ediiois, ihoiiili the iiielie is iinpertert wiilionl it. 

♦ '/'heii talit, &c.\ 1 have oiiiilled two words, which ap 
pear evidently iiilerpolaled, as they deslroy al once iht 
construction and the iiieasuie. 



S'-tVE VI.] 



THE PICTURE. 



«ri 



To Alhii* regalis ; llie ladies run mad for him, 
And tliert> is siicli contention among; tiieni, 
Wlio sii;ill engross him \Vholl), that tlie like 
Was never lieiird of 

So]>li. Ae iliev handsome women ? 

UbvUl. Fie ! no ; coarse mamraets, and what's 
worse, they are old too. 
Some fifty, some thieescore. and they pay dear for't, 
believinsf that lie carries a powder in his breeches 
Will make them young again ; and these suck 
shwredly, 

Blc. [vhhtlea.'] Sir, I must fetch you off. 

Vbiild. 1 coidd tell you wonders 
Of the cures he has done, but a business of import 
Calls me away ; but, thatdispatth'd, I will 
Be with you presently. \Walki aaide. 

Soph, 'I'heie is something more 
In this than bare susjiicion. 

Jlic. [^cnmes J nrwa>(i] save you, lady ; 
Now you louk like yourself! I have not look'd on 
A lady more complete, yet have seen a madam 
AVear a garment of this fashion, of the same stuff too. 
One just of your dimensious : sat the wind there, 
boy ! 

Soph. What lady, sir ? 

liic. Nav, no'hing; and methinks 
I should know I his ruby : very good ! 'tis the same. 
This chain of orient pearl, and this diamond too. 
Have been worn before ; but much good may they 

do you ! 
Strength to the gentleman's back ! he toil'd hard for 

them 
Before he got them. 

Soph. Why, how were they gotten? 

liic. Not in the field with his sword, upon my life, 
He may thank his close stilettof. — [^Ubaldu heim.'] — 

Plague upon it ! 
Run the minutes so fast? — Pray you excuse my 

manners ; 
I left a letter in my chamber window. 
Which I would not have seen on any terms; fie on it, 
Forgetful as I am I but Til straight attend you. 

\_Wulks aside. 

Soph. This is strange. His letters said these 
jewels were' 
Presented him by the queen, as a reward 
For his good serv ice, and the trunks of clothes 
That followed them this last night, wiih haste 

made up 
By his direction. 

Ubald. [wmes forward^ I was telling you 
Of wonders, madam. 

Soph. If you are so skilful. 
Without premeditation answer me ; 
Know you this gown, and these rich jewels? 

Ubald. Heaven, 
How things will come out! But that I should 

offend you. 
And wrong my more than noble friend your husband, 
(For we are sworn brothers), in the discovery 
Of his nearest secrets, 1 could 

Soph. By the hope of favour 
That )ou have from me, out with it. 

• To Alba ngalis;! Mr. M. Mason reads Aula leyalii. 
Why this4liangc should be llioui;lit iitcossary, I cannot t»ll; 
Alba ri-galis was no micoiiini"n exprtssion ai the lime ; and, 
indef.d, it is nsed, by more than one uiiter, fur the English 
court. 

i He may thank his close slilclto.] So ihe old copy. 
Coxeler and Mr. M. Mason read, hit close stiUet luol 



Ubald. 'Tis a potent spell 
I cannot resist ; why I will tell j'ou, inadaip, 
And to how many several women you rre 
Beholding for vour bravery. 1 his was 
The wedding gown (if Paulina, a ricli strumpet. 
Worn but a day, when she married old Gonzaga, 
And left off trading. 

Soph. O my heart ! 

Ubald. This chain 
Of pearl was a great widow's, that invited 
Your lord to a mask, ami the weather proving foul. 
He lodged in her house all night, nnd merry they 

were ; 
But how he came by it, I know not. 

Soph. Perjured man! 

Ubald. 'Jhis ring was Julietta's, a fine piece. 
But very good at the sport : this diamond 
Was madam Acanihe's, given him f^r a song 
Prick'd in a private arbour, as she s.ud. 
When the queen ask'd for't; and she heard him 

sing too. 
And danced to his hornpipe, or theie are liars abroad. 
There are other toys about you the same way pur- 
chased ; 
But, parallel'd with these, not worth the relation. 
You are happy in a husband, never man 
Made better use of his strength : would you have 

him waste 
His body away for nothing? if he holds out, 
'I'here's not an embroidered petticoat in the court 
But shall be at your service. 

Soph. I commend him, 
It is a tliriving trade ; but pray you leave me 
A little to myself. 

Ubald. You may command 
Your servant, madam. — [IKa/Zcj usidi\ — She's stung 
unto the quigk, lad. , 

jRJc. 1 did my part; if this potion* work not, 
hang me ! 
Let her sleep as well as she tan to-night, to-morrow 
U e'll mount new batteries. 

Ubald. And till then leave her. 

\_Kxeunt U bald o and liicardo. 

Soph. You Powers, that take into your care the 
guard 
Of innocence, aid me I for I am a creature 
So forfeited to despair, hope cannot fancy 
A ransome to redeem me. 1 begin 
To waver in my faith, and make it doubtful. 
Whether the saints, that were canonized for 
Their holiness of lie, sinn'd not in secret; 
Since my INJa liias is fallen from his virtue 
In such an open fashion. Could it be, else, 
That such a husband, so devoted to me, ' 
So vow'd to temperance, for lascivious hire 
Should prostitute himself to common harlots ! 
Old and deform 'd too ! Was't for tliis he left me, 
And on a feign'd pretence for want of means 
To give me ornament ? — or to bring home 
Diseases to me ? Suppose these are false 
And lustful goats, if he were true and right, 
\\ hy stays he so long from me, being made rich, 
And that the only reason why he left me? 
Mo, he is lost ; and shall I wear the spoils 



• if this potiiin work not,] Both the 

editors omit potion : but, iii<leed, nolhiiig cm be more shame* 
fully piinted than the whole of this scene, if I said the 
whole of tliis pl.iy, I should not wrong the truth. 



«•« 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act i¥ 



And salaries of lust ! tliey cleuve unto me 
Like Nessus' poison'd shirt . no, in my rage 
I'll tear tliem ofT, and frommv body wasli 
The venom with uiy tears. Have I no spleen. 
Nor anger of a woman ? shall he build 
Upon my ruirfs,aiid I, unrevenged, 
Deplore his falsehood ? no ; with the same trash 
For which he had dishonour'd me, I'll purchase 



A just revenge : I am not vet so much 

In debt to years, nor so mis-shaped, that all 

Should flv from my embraces : Ciiastitv, 

i'liou only art a name, and I renounce thee .' 

I am now a servant to voluptuousness. 

Wantons of all degrees and tashions, welcome? 

You shall be entertain'd ; and, if 1 stray, 

Let him condemn himself, that led the way. [£nt 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — Hungary. A Room in the Palace. 
Enter M.^thias and Bapiista. 

Bapt. We are in a desperate strait ; there's no 
evasion, 
Nor hope left to come off, but by your yielding 
To the necessity, you must feign a grant 
To her violent passion, or 

Maih. \Vhat, my Baptista? 

Bnpt. We are but dead else. 

Math. \Verethe sword now heaved up. 
And mv neck upon the block, 1 would not buy 
An hour's renrieve with the lossof faiihand virtue. 
To be made immortal litre. Art thou a scholar. 
Nay, almost without parallel, and yet fear 
To die wliich is inevitable ! You may urge 
'Jhe many years that, by the course of nature. 
We may travel in this tedious pilgrimage, 
And hold it as a blessing; as it is, 
vV'hen innocence is our guide : yet know, Baptista, 
Our virtues are preferr'd before our years, 
By the great.hi'dge : to die untainted in 
Our faineant! re,.utation is the greatest; 
And to lose that, can we desire to live* 1 
Or shall I. for a momentary jileasure. 
Which soon comes to a period, to all times 
Have breach of faith and perjury remembered 
In a stiU-living epitaph ? no, Baptista, 
Since my Sojihia will go to her grave 
Unspotted in her faith, I'll follow her 
With equal lovalfy : — But look on this, 
Your own great work, your masterpiece, and then. 

She being s'ill the same, teach me to alter! ■ 

Ha ! sure I do not sleep ! or, if I dream, 
This is a terrible vision ! 1 will clear 
My eye.'^ght ; perhaps melancholy makes me 
See livat which is not. 

Biipt. It is too a])parent. 
I grieve to look upon't ; besides the yellow. 
That docs assure she's tempted, there are lines 
Of a daik colour, that disperse themselves 
O'er every miniature of her face, and those 
Confirm ■ 

Math. She is turn'd whore ! 

Bapt. 1 must not say so. 
Yet, as a friend to truth, if you wull have.me 
Interpret it, in her consent and wishes 
Sha's false, but not in fact yet. 



• Atid to hoe that, can we disire to live? This is finm 
Suvcn.il : 
Et propter v-tam, vivendi perdere causas. Sal. VIII. j 



Math. Fact, Baptista ! 
I\Iake not yourself a pander to her loosenens. 
In labouring to palliate what a visor 
Of impudence cannot cover. Did e'er woman 
In lier will decline from chastity, but found means 
To give her hot lust fuel !* It is more 
Impossible in nature for gross bodies, 
Descending of themselves, to hang in the air; 
Or with my single arm to underprop 
A falling tower ; nay, in its violent course 
To stop the lightning, than to stay a woman 
Hurried by two furies, lust and falsehood. 
In her full career to wickedness ! 

Bapt. Pray you, temper 
The violence of your passion. 

Math. In extremes 
Of this condition, can it. be in man 
To use a moderation ? I am thrown 
From a steep rock lieadlong into a gulph 
Of misery, and find myself j)ast hope, 
In the same moment that I appreiiend 
That I am falling : an^ this, the figure of 
My idol, few hours since, while she contmued 
III her perfection, that was late a mirror. 
In whicii I sav miraculous shapes of duty, 
Staid manners with all excellency a hu.-banj 
Could wish in a chaste wife, is on the sudden 
'J'lini'd to a magical glass, and does present 
Nothing but horns and horror. 

Biipt. V'ou may yet. 
And 'tis the best foundation, build up comfort 
On your own goodness. ^ 

Math. No, that hath undone me ; 
For now I hold my tenijierance a sin 
Worse than excess, and what w.is vice, a virtue 
Have I refused a queen, and such a tjueen. 
Whose ravishing beauties at the first sight tad 
tempted 

A hermit from his beads, and changed his prayers 
To amorous sonints, to preserve my faith 
Inviolate to thee, with the hazard of 
My death with torture, since she could inflict 
No less for my contempt; and have I met 
Such a return from thee 1 I will not curse thee. 
Nor, tor thy falsehood, rail against the sex ; 
'lis poor, and common: I'll only, with wise men, 
\\ hi.sper unto myself, howe'er they seem, 
Nor present, nor jiast times, nor the age to come, 
Hath Iieretofore, can now, or ever shall, 
Produce one constant woman. 

• V'o ffive her hot luMt fiiil?! Waiilnnty corrupted by the 
modi HI Idiiiirs iuhi— yive her hot lust lull icnpe f .Vlclre and 
sca^f (IcilioyfJ at <i stiolic! 



CCENE II.] 



THE PICTURE. 



rra 



Bapt. This is more 
Than the Siilirists wrote iis:ainst them. 

Math. There's ni> lauitu.iiie 
That can exjiress the jinisoii of these aspics, 
These wt'eping crocodiles, and all too little 
That liiith been said a|;aiM.st them. But I'll mould 
jVIy thoughts into another form ; and, if 
She can ou'live the report of what I have done, 
This liand, when next she conies within my reach, 
Shall be her executioner. 

Enter HoNoniA and Acantiie. 

Bapt. The queen, sir, 

Hon. Wait our command at distance :—[Eii«. 
/)cfl«(/i(?.] — Sir, you too have 
Free liberty to depart. 

Bapt. I know' my manners. 
And thank you for the favour. [Exit. 

Him. Have y'lU tiiken 
Good rest in your new lodgings? I expect now 
Your resolute answer ; but advise maturely, 
Before I hear it. 

Math. Let my actions, madam, 
For no words can dilate my j()y, in* all 
You can command, with cheerfulness to serve 

you. 
Assure your highness ; and. in sign of my 
Submis^ion and contrition for my error. 
My lips, that but the last ni^ht shuiin'd the touch 
Ot yours as poison, tauglit humility now. 
Thus on your foot, and that tow ijreat an honour 
For such an undeserver, seal my duty. 
A cloudy mist of i>;norance, equal to 
Cimmerian darkness, %vould not let me see, then, 
What now, with adoration and wonder. 
With reverence 1 look up to : but those fogs 
Dispersed and scatter'd by the powerful beams 
With which jourself, the sun of all perfection, 
Vouchsafe to cure my blindness ; like a suppliant, 
As low as I can kneel, I humbly beg 
What you once pleased to tender. 

Hon. This is more 
Than I could hope! — What find you so attractive 
Upon my face, in so short time to make 
This sudden metamorphosis? pray you, rise ; 
1, for your late neglect, thus sign your pardon. 
Ay, now you kiss like a lover, and not as brothers 
Coldly salute their sister. 

Math. 1 am turn'd 
All spirit and fire. 

Hon. Yet, to give some allay 
To this hot fervour, 'twere good to remember 
The king, whose eyes and ears are every where ; 
With the danger too that follows, this discover'd. 

Math. Danger! a bugbear, madam ; let me ride 
once 
Like Phaeton in the chariot of your favour. 
And 1 contemn Jove's thunder: tliough the king, 
In our embraces stood a looker on. 
His hangman, and with studied cruelty, ready* 
To drag me from your arms, it should not fright me 
From the enjoying that a single life is 
Too poor a price for. O, that now all vigour 
Of my youth weie re-collected for an hour. 
That my desire might meet with yours, and draw 
The envy of all men, in the encounter, 

• His hangman, and with studied cruelty, ready.l Here 
again tlicse ett-riial enemies ut the aiitlior's idiomatic sl^le 
read. His hangman too, with studied cruelty, Ac. 



I Upon my head! I should — but we lose time ; 
Be -jracious, mighty ([ueen. 

Hon. Pause yet a liitle : 
The bounties of the king, and, what weighs more, 
Vour boasted constaiuy to your matchless wife. 
Should not so soon be shaken. 

Math. The whole fabric, 
V\ hen I but look on you, is in a moment 
O'erturned and ruiii'd ; and, as rivers lose 
I heir names when they are swallow'd by the ocean, 
In you alone all faculties of my soul 
Are wholly taken up ; my wife and king. 
At the best, as things forgotten. 

Hon. Can this be ? 
I have gain'd my end now. [_Atide, 

Math. Wherefore stay you, madam? 

Hon. In my consideration what a nothing 
Rlan's constancy is. 

Math. Your beauties mak6 it so 
In me, sweet lady. 

Hon. And it is my glory : 
I could be coy now, as you were, but I 
Am of a gentler temper; howsoever. 
And in a just return of what I have suflTer'd 
In vour disdain, with the same meast_ e grant ine 
Equal deliberation : 1 ere long 
Will visit you again ; and when I next 
Appear, as conquer'd by it, slave-like wait 
On my triumphant beauty. [_Exil, 

Math. What a change 
Is here beyond my fear ! but by thy falsehood, 
Sophia, not her beautv, is't denied ine 
To sin but in my wishes? what a frown, 
In scorn, at her departure, she threw on me ! 
I am both ways lost ; storms of contempt and scora 
Are ready to break on me, and all hope ■ 
Of shelter doubtful : I can neither be 
Disloval, nor yet honest ; I stand guilty 
On either part ; at the worst, death .will end all ; 
And lie must be my judge to right my wrong. 
Since I have loved too much, and lived too long, 

[Ex it. 
— ♦ 

SCENE II.— Bohemia. A Room in Wathias' 
House. 

Enter Sophia, with a booh and a paper. 

Soph. Nor custom, nor example, nor vast numbers 
Of such as do offend, make less the sin. 
For each particular crime a strict account 
Will be exacted ; and that comfort which 
The damn'd pretend, fellows in misery. 
Takes nothing from their torments : every one 
Must suffer in himself the measure of 
His wickedness. If so, as I must grant. 
It being unrefutable in reason, 
Howe'er my lord offend, it is no warrant 
For me to walk in his forbidden paths : 
What penance then can expiate my guilt. 
For my consent (transported then with passion) 
To wantonness? the wounds I give my lame 
Cannot recover his ; and, though I have fed 
These courtiers with promises and hopes, 
I am yet in fact untainted, and I trust 
l\ly sorrow for it, with my purity. 
And love to goodness for itself, made powerful. 
Though all they have alleged jirove true or false. 
Will be such exoicisms, as shall command 
This fury, jealousy, from me. What I have 



fT4 



THE PICTURK. 



[Act IV 



Determined touching tliem, 1 am resolved 
To put in execution. Within, iliere ! 

Liiler IIii.ARio, CoRiscA, with other Servants. 
Where ore mv noble guests ? 

Hil. 'I'lie eider, madam, 
Is drinkiiia; bv himself to your ladyship's health, 
In musk;idine and eggs ; and, for a rusher 
To draw his li([nor down, he hath got a pie 
Of marrowbones, potatoes, and eringos, 
Willi many such inijredients ; and 'tis said 
He Imth sent his man in post to the next town. 
For a jiound of ambergris, and half a peck 
Of fishes call'd cantharides. 

Coris. I'he younger 
Prunes up himself, as if this night he were 
To act a bridegroom's part I but to what purpose, 
I atii ignorance itself. 

Soph. Continue so. [Gives the paper. 

Let tliose lodgings be prepared as this directs you. 
And i'ail not in a circumstance, as you 
Respect my favour. 

1 Serv. We have our instructions. 

'2 Scrv. And punctually will follow (hem. 

[Exeunt Servants. 

Enter Ubaldo. 

Hil. Here comes, madam, 
The lord Dbaldo. 

Uiald. Pretty one, there's gold 
To bu7 thee a new gown, and there's for thee: 
Grow f,it, and fit for service. I am now, 
As I should be, at the height, and able to 
Beget a giant. O my better angel ! 
In this vou show your wisdom, when vou pay 
The letcher in his own coin ; shall you sit puling, 
Like a patient Grizzle, and be laugh 'd at? no : 
This is a fair revenge. Sliall we to'tl 

Soph. 'I'o what, sir? 

Vliald. The sport yon promised. 

Soph. Could it be done with safety? 

Vhu'd. I warrant you ; I am sound as a bell, a 
tough 
Old blade, and steel to the back, as you shall find me 
In the trial on your anvil. 

Soph. So ; but how, sir, 
Shall [ satisfy your friend, to whom, by promise, ■ 
I am e(|ually engaged ? 

Udiild. 1 must confess, 
'J"he more the merrier ; but, of all men living, 
Take heed of him ; you may safer run upon 
The mouth of a cannon when it is unlading, 
And come off colder. 

Soph. How ! is he not wliolesome ? 

Ubtild. Wholesome! I'll tell you, for your good : 
he is 
A spittle of diseases', and, indeed. 
More loathsome and infectious ; the tub is 
His weekly bath : he hath noiilrank this seven years, 
Before he came to your house,^ut compositions 
Of sassafras and guiacum ; and dry mutton 
His daily portion ; name what scratch soever 
Con be got by women, and the surgeons will resolve 

vou, 
At this time or at that Ilicardo had it. 

he is 

A f prtlle of diseasef,] So tlie old ropy : Coxcter and 
Mr. M. Mason iimiI, A i\>\i»\ of diseasei, \vhich it scarcely 
ense. See The City Madam. 



Soph. iJless me from him ! 

Ubiild. "I'is a good prayer, lady. 
It being a deyree unto the pox 
Only to mention him ; if my tongue burn not, hang 

me. 
When I but name Ilicardo. 

Soph. Sir, this caution 
Mii>it he rewarded. 

Uhiild. I hope I have mar'd his market. 

But when ? 

Soph. Why, presently; follow my woman, 
She knows where to conduct you, and will serve 
To-niglit for a jmge. Let the waistcoat I appointed. 
With the cambric shirt perfumed, and the rich cap, 
lie brought into his chamber. 

Ubald. Excellent lady I 
And a candle loo in the morning. 

Coris. 1 will fit you. [F.ieunt Uhaldo and Corisca, 

Enter Uicardo. 

Soph. So hot on the scent ! Here comes the other 
beagle. 

f?(C. Take purse and all. 

Hit. If this company would come often, 
I should make a pretty term on't. 

Soph. For your sake 
I have put him ofT; he only begg'd a kiss, 
I gave it, and so j)arted. 

Ric. I hope better ; 
He did not touch your lips? 

Soph. Yes, I assure ; 
There was no danger in it ? 

Ric. No ! eat presently 
These lozenges of forty crowns an ounce. 
Or you are undone. 

Soph. What is the virtue of them? 

Ric. They are preservativesagainst stinking breath. 
Rising from rotten lungs. 

Soph. If so, your carriage 
Of such dear antidotes, in my opinion, 
May render yours suspected. 

Ric. Fie 1 no ; I use them 
When 1 talk with him, I should be poison'd else. 
But I'll be free with you : he was once a creature, 
It may be, of God's making, but long since 
He is turn'd to a druggist's shop ; the spring and 

fall 
Hold all the year with him ; that he lives, he owes 
To art, not nature ; she has given him o'er. 
He moves like the fairy king, on screws and wheels 
Made by his doctor's recipes, and yet still 
They are out of joint, and every day repairing. 
He has a regiment of whores he keeps 
At his own charge in a lazar-house, but the best is, 
There's not a no>e among them. lie's acquaiatcd 
With the green water, and the spitting pill's 
Familiar to him. In a frosty morning 
You mav thrust him in a pottle-pot; his bones 
Battle in his skin, like beans toss'd in a bladder. 
If he but liear a coach, the fomentation, 
Tlie friction with fumigation, cannot save him 
From the chine-evil.* In a word, lie is 



• From the cliiiie-eviM So the old copy : Goxeter and Mn 
M. Mas-on rvHd,from the rhinevil. Whether they under, 
stood it or nut, I caiiiiot say, nor is it indeed of iniirh coo- 
(eqiieiice. It would not be a maltor of regret if every 
reader of this strong but indelicate humour could say witfe 
Sophia. ' 

" The bett it, 



Scene II.] 



THE riCTURE. 



«r5 



Not one disease, but all ; yet, being my friend, 
T will forbear his character, for 1 would not 
Wrong liim in your opinion. 

Soph. The best is. 
The virtues you bestow on him, to me 
Are mysferies I know not; but, however, 
I am at vour service. Sirrah, let it be your care 
To unclothe tlie gentleman, and with speed ; delay 
Takes from delight. 

Ric. Good ! there's ray hat, sword, cloak : 
A vengeance on these buttons! off with my doublet, 
I dare show my skin; in the touch you will like it 

better. 
Prithee cut my codpiece-points, and, for this service. 
When 1 leave them off they are thine. 
mi. I'll take your word, sir. 
Etc. Dear lady, stay not long. 
Snph. 1 may come too soon, sir. 
Ric. No, no, I am ready now. 
Hit. This is the way, sir. 

[ Exeunt Hilario and Bicar/Io. 
Soph, I was much to blame to credit th^ir reports 
Touching my lord, that so tniducet^ach other. 
And with such virulent malice, though I presume 
They are bad enough : but I have studied for 

them 
A way for their recovery. 

[^ noise of clappinp; a door ; Ubaldo appears 
above, m his shirt. 
Uhald. What dost thou mean, wench? 
Why dost thou shut the door upon me? Ha! 
My clothes are ta'en away too ! shall I starve here ? 
Is this my lodging? I am sure the lady talk'd of 
A rich cap, a perfumed shirt, and a waistcoat; 
But here is nothing but a little fresh straw, 
A petticoat far a coverlet, and that torn too. 
And an old woman's biggin for a nightcap. 

'Re-enter Corisca helow. 
"Slight, 'tis a prison, or a pigsty. Ha! 
The windows grated with iron ! I cannot force them. 
And if I leap down here, I break my neck : 
1 am betrav'd. Rogues ! villains ! let me out ; 
I am a lord, and that's no common title. 
And shall I be used thus? 

Soph, Let him rave, he's fast; 
I'll parley with him at leisure. 
RiCARDO entering with a great noise above, as fallen*. 

Ric. Zounds! have you trapdoors? 

Soph. The other bird's i' the cage too, let him 
flutter. 

Rir. Whither am I fallen? into hell ! 

Uhald. Who makes that noise, there? 
Help me. if thou art a friend. 

Ric. A friend ! I am where 
I cannot help myself; let me see thv face. 

Ubald, How, Ricardo! Prithee, throw me 
Thy cloak, if thou canst, to cover me ; 1 am almost 
Frozen to death. 

Ric, My cloak ! I have no breeches ; 

Tlie viiliies you bestow on hiro, to me 

Art niyslei'ies I know not ;" 
The reciprocal criminations of tlie two courtiers is imitated 
with SOUR luMiKiur by Caitwri^lit in I. otse's Convert, Act IV. 
sc. I., ai.ii b) Cowley, but less successlully, ill 'I'he Guardian. 
* Ricardo enleriny with a yreat twine above, as Jallen.] 
So the old copj. llie inodeiii editors lead, with a great 
noise below. It is evident, however, that the prisoners were 
near each otlicr, and so ihry are represent 'd in llie old 
»lory, which place." tliein in two conli(;uous chambers of the 
U>we<' ot keep ol' the castle. 



I am in mv shirt as thou art ; and here's nothing 
For mvself but a clown's cast* suit. 

Uhiitd. We arf both iiiidoiie. 
Prithee, ro-.ir a little — M:i(lani ! 

Re-enler Hilario below, in Ricardo's clothu. 
Ric. Lady of the house ! 
Ubald. Grooms of the chamber! 
Ric. Gentlewomen! Milkmaids! 
Ubald. Shall we be murder'd ? 
Soph. No, hut soundly punish'd, 
To vour deserts. 

Ric. You are iiot in earnest, madnm ? 
Soph. Judge as you find, and feel it; and BOW 
hear 
What I irrevocably purpose to you. 
Being received as gue.sts into my house, 
And with all it afforded entertain'd, 
You have forgot all hospitable duties ; 
And, with the defamation of my lord. 
Wrought on my woman weakness, in revenge 
Of his injuries, as you fashioned them to nie. 
To yield my honour to your lawless lust. 
tin. Mark that, poor fellows. 
Soph, And so far you have 
Transgress'd against the dignity of men. 
Who should, bound to it by virtue, still defend 
Chaste ladies' honours, that it was your trade 
To make them infamous : but you are caught 
In your own toils, like lustful beasts, and therefore 
Hope not to find the usage of men from me : 
Such mercy you have forfeited, and shall suffer 
Like the most slavish women. 
Ubald. How will you use us? 
Soph. Ease, and excess in feeding, made you 
wanton, 
A pleurisy of ill blood you must let out, . 
By labour, and spare diet that way got too, 
Or perish for hunger. Reach him up that distaff 
With the flax upon it ; though no Omphale, 
Nor you a second Hercules, as I take it. 
As you spin well at my command, and please me. 
Your wages, in the coarsest bread and water, 
Shall be proportionable. 
Ubald. I will starve first. 
Soph. 'Ihat's as you please. 
Ric. What will become of me now? 
Soph. You shall have gentler work ; I have ofk 
observed 
You were proud to show the fineness of your 

hands, 
And softness of your fingers ; you shouB reel well 
What he spins, if you give your mind to it, as I'll 

force you. 
Deliver him his materials. Now you know 
Your penance, fall to work ; hunger will teach you: 
And so, as slaves to your lust, not me, I leave you. 
[Exeunt Sophia and Coritea. 

Ubald, I shall spin a fine thread out now. 

Ric, I cannot look 
On these devices, but they put me in mind 
Of rope-makers. 

Hil. Fellow, think of thy task. 
Forget such vanities, my livery there 
Will serve thee to woik in. 



- and here's nothing 



For myself, but a cloun's cast .mit.] llie caution cf the 
modern editors is admirable: lest cast suit sliouhl ""' «* 
intelligible, they alter ii into cast otf mil, at lilfie "-ore U>M 
the expense ol the luetie I 



tfe 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act IV. 



Ric. Let me liave my clothes yet ; 
I was bountiful to thee. 

Hil. 'J'hey are past your wenrino^, 
And mine by prinnise, as all tiiese can witness. 
You have no holichiys coming, nor will I work 
While these and this lasts; and so when you please 
You mn\- sliut up your shop windows. \_Exil, 

Ubald. 1 am faint, 
And must lie down. 

Ric. 1 am hungry too, and cold. 
O cursed women ! 

Ubald. 'J'his comes of our whoring. 
But let us rest as well as we can to-ninht. 
But not o'ersleep ourselves lest we fast to-morrow. 

\_Exeunt. 



SCENE iir.- 



A Boom in the Palace. 
Ferdinand, 



•Hungary, 

Enter Ladislaus, Honoria, Eubulu: 
AcANTHE, and attendants. 

Hon. Now, you know all, sir, with the motives 
why 
I forced him to my lodging. 

Ladii. 1 desire 
No more such trials, lady. 

Hon. I presume, sir, 
You do not doubt my chastity. 

Ladis. I would not ; 
But these are strange inducements. 

Eiibti. By no means, sir. 
Why, though he were with violence seized upon 
And still detaiu'd ; the man, sir, being no soldier. 
Nor used to charge his pike when the breach is 

open, 
There was no danger in't ! You must conceive, sir, 
Being religious, she chose him for a rhaplain, 
To read old homilies to her in the dark; 
She's bound to it by her canons. 

Ladis. Still tormented 
With thy impertinence ! 

//o». By yourself, dear sir, 
I was ambitious only to o'ertbrow 
His boasted constancy in his consent ; 
But for fact 1 contemn him : I was never 
Unchaste in thought, I laboured to give proof 
What power dwells in this beauty vou admire so ; 
And when you see how soon it hath transform 'd him, 
And with what superstition he adores it, 
Determine ^ vou please. 

Ladis. 1 will look on 
This pageant, but 

Hon. When you have seen and heard, sir, 
The passages which I myself discover'd, 
And could have kept conceal'd, had I meant basely, 
Judge as you please. 

/ adis. Well, I'll observe the issue. 

Eithu. How had you ta'en this, general, in your 
wife ! 

Feid. As a strange curiosity ; but queens 
Are privileged above subjects, and 'tis fit, sir. 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE IV. — Another Room in the same. 
Enter Mathias and Baptista. 

Bapt. You are much alter'd, sir, since the last 
night, 



When the queen left you, and look cheerfullj, 
Your dulness (|uite blown over. 

Math. 1 have seen a vision 
Thismorning makes it good*, and never was 
In such security as at this instant, 
Fall what can fall : and when the queen appears, 
Whose shortest absence now is tedious to me, 
Observe the encounter. 

Enter Honoria : Ladisi.aus, Eubi^lus, Feruinaka 
and AcANTHE, with others, appear above. 

Bapt. She already is 
Enter'd the lists. 

Math. And I prepared to meet her. 
Bapt. I know mv duty. 
Hon. Not so, you may stay now, 
As a witness of our contract. 

Bapt. I obey 
In all things, madam. 

Hon. \Vhere's that reverence, 
Or rather superstitious adoration. 
Which, captive-like to my triumphant beauty 
You paid last night! No humble knee nor sign 
Of vassal duty ! Sure this is the foot 
To whose proud cover, and then happy in it, 
Your lips were glued ; and that tlie neck then of- 

fer'd. 
To witness your subjection, to be trod on: 
Your certain loss <if life in the king's anger 
Was then too mean a price to buy my favour; 
And that false glow-worm tire of constancy 
To your wife, extinguished by a greater light 
Shot from our eyes — and that, it mav be (being 
Too glorious to be look'd on), hath deprived you 
Of speech and motion : but 1 will take oft" 
A little from the splepdour, and descend 
From my own height, and in your lovvness hear you 
Plead as a suppliant. 

Math. I do remember 
I once saw such a woman. 
Hon. How ! 
Math. And thep 
She did appear a most magnificent queen. 
And what's more, virtuous, though somewhat dark* 

en'd 
With pride, and self-opinion. 
Eubu. Call you this courtship? 
Math. And she was happy in a royal husband, 
Whom envy could not tax unless it were 
For his too much indulgence to her humours. 

Eubu. Pray you, sir, observe that touch, 'tis to 
the purpose ; 
I like the play the better for't. 

Math. And she lived 
Worthy her birth and fortune : you retain yet 
Some part of her angelical form ; but when 
Envy to the beauty of another woman. 
Inferior to hers, one that she never 
Had se&n, but in her picture, had dispersed 
Infection through her veins, and loyalty. 
Which a great queen, as she was, should have 
nourisli'd, 

Grew odious to her 

Hon. I am thunderstruck. 



• Math. I have teen a vision 

This morniny makes it yood.] Meaning that the picture 
had recovered its natural colour. Tliis short icene is inimit- 
ably beauliful. 



ScruE I.] 



THE PICTURE. 



vrr 



Math. And lust in all the bravery it could borrow 
From miijesty, howe'er disguised, had ta'ea 
Sure footings in the kingdom of her heart. 
The throne of" chastity once, how, in a moment. 
All that was gracious, great, and glorious in her. 
And won upon all hearts, like seeming shadows 
Wanting true substance, vanish'd ! 

Hon. How his reasons 
Work on my soul ! 

Math. Retire into yourself; 
Your own strengths, madam, strongly mann'd with 

viriue. 
And be but as you were, and there's no ofiSce 
So base, beneath the slavery that men 
Impose on beasts, but 1 will gladly bow to. 
But as you play and juggle with a stranger. 
Varying your shapes like Thetis, though the beau- 
ties 
Of all that are by poets' raptures sainted • 
Were now in you united, you should pass 
Pitied by me, perhaps, but not regard«9d. 
FAiha. If tiiis take not, I am cheated. 
Math. To slip once, 
Is incident, and excused by human frailty ; 
But to fall ever, damnable. We were both 
Guilty, 1 grant, in tendering our affection j 
But, as I hope you will do, I repented. 
Wlien we are grown up to ripeness, our life is 
Like to this - - - - piciuief. While we run 
A constant race in goodness, it retains 
The just proportion ; but the journey being 
Tedious, and sweet temptation in the way, 
'i'hat may in some degree divert us from 
'i'he road that we put forth in, ere we end 
Our fiilgrimage, it may, like this, turn yellow, 
Or be witii blackness clouded: but when we 
Find we have gotie astray, and labour to 
Return unto our never-failing guide, 
Virtue, contrition, with unfeigned tears, 
The spots of vice wash'd off, will soon restore it 
To the first pureness. 

Hon.- 1 am disenchanted : 
Mercy, O mercy, heavens ! [Kneels, 

Lndis. I am ravish'd 
Witli what I have seen and beard. 

Ferd. Let us descend, 
And hear the rest below. 

Eubu. This hath fallen out 
Beyond my expectation. [Thei/ retire. 

Hon. How have I wander'd 
Out of the track of piety ! and misled 
By overweening pride, and flattery 
Of fawning sycophants (the bane of greatness) , 



Could never meel till now a passenger, 

'I hat in his charity would set me right. 

Or stay me in my precipice to ruin. 

How ill have I return'd your goodness to me ! 

The horror, in my thought oft, turns me marble: 

But if it may be yet prevented 

Re-enter Ladislaus, Eubulus, Ffrdinand, Acanthb, 
and olhen, below. 

O sir, 
What can I do to show my sorrow, or 
With what brow ask your pardon? 

Ladis. Pray you, rise. 

Hon. Never, till you forgive me, and receive 
Unto your love and favour a changed woman : 
My state and pride turn'd to humility, henceforth 
Shall wait on your commands, and my obedience 
Steer'd only by your will. 

Ladis. And that will prove 
A second and a better marriage to me. 
All is forgotten. 

Hon Sir, I must not rise yet. 
Till, with a free confession of a crime 
Unknown to you yet, and a following suit. 
Which thus i beg, be granted. 

Ladis. 1 melt with you : ■ 
'lis pardon'd, and confiim'd thus. [Raises her. 

Hon. Know then, sir, 
In malice to this good knight's wife, I practised 
Ub;ild() and Ricardo to corrupt her. 

B(ipt. Thence grew the change of the picture, 

Hon. And how far 
1 hey have previul'd, I am ignorant : now, if you, sir 
For the honour of this good man, may be entreated 
To travel thither, it being but a day's journey, 
To fetch them off 

Ladis. We will put on to-night. 

Bapt. I, if you please, your harbinger. 

Liidis. I thank you. 
Let me embrace you in my arms ; your service 
Done on the Turk, compared with this, weighs no- 
thing. 

Math. 1 am still your humble creature. 

Ladis, My true friend. 

Ferd. And so you are bound to hold him. 

/ iihii, Suth a plant 
Imported to your kingdom, and here grafted. 
Would yield more fruit than all the idle weeds 
That suck up your rain of favour. 

Ladis, In my will 
I'll not I e wanting. Prepare for our journey. 
In act be my Honoria now, not name. 
And to all afiertimes preserve thy fame. [Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — Bohemia. A Hall in Mathias' House. 
Enter Sophia, ConiscA, and Hilario. 
Soph, Are they then so humble ? 
Hil, Hunger and hard labour 



• Of all that are by poets' raptures sainted.] The modern 
editors, treiMbling for tiie daring fliglits of Massinner, Iwve 
kindly bro»s;lit hini down to llie ordinary level : Ility read, 

Of all that are by poet's raptures painted 1 
The change is the more to be adniiied, as ihe old copy, to 
show the eiLpressiuD was a strong one. gave it with a capital 
letter. 

21 



Have tamed them, madam ; at the* first they bel- 

low'd 
Like stags ta'en in a toil, and would not work 



t our life is 

Like to this - - . . picture.] A word has dropt out at lh< 
press, or btxn omitted by the transcriber. 1 could wish U 
insei' mai/ii:, bill leave it to the reader's consideration 

• at Ihe first they bellow'd.] I h«Tf. r ' 

HiTtd the article, which compleles Ihe verse, lioni tUe oU 
copi . 



f78 



THE PICTURE. 



[AcrV 



For sullenness ; but when they found, without it 
TLere was no eatinn^, and that to starve to death 
Was mucli against their stomachs ; by degrees, 
Against their wills, they fell to it. 

Coris. And now feed on 
The little pittance you allow, with gladness. 

Hit. 1 do remember that they s'topp'd their noses 
At the sight of beef and mutton, as coarse feeding 
For their fine palates ; but now, their work being 

ended. 
They leap at a barley crust, and hold cheese-parings, 
\\ ifh a spoonful of pall'd wine pour'd in their water. 
For festival-exceedings*. 

Coris. When I examine 
My s]iinster's work, he trembles like a prentice. 
And fiikes a box on the ear, when I spy faults 
And botches in his labour, as a favour 
From n curst mistress. 

Hil. The other, too, reels well 
For his lime ; and if your ladyship would please 
To see them for your sport, since they want airing. 
It would do well, in my judgment ; you shall hear 
Such a hungry dialogue from them ! 

Scph. But suppose. 
When they are out of prison, they should grow 
Rebellious? 

Hit. Never fear't ; I'll undertake 
To lead them out by the nose with a coarse thread 
Of the one's spinning, and make the other reel after. 
And without grumbling ; and when you are weary of 
Their company, as easily return them. 

Covis. Dear madam, it will help to drive away 
Your melancholy. 

Soph. Well, on this assurance, 
1 am content ; ■ bring them hither. 

Hit. 1 will do it 
In stately equipage. [Exit. 

Soph. They have confessi'd, then, 
They were set on by the queen, to taint me in 
My loyalty to my lord ? 

Coris. 'Twas the main cause 
That brought them hither. 

Soph, 1 am glad I know it ; 
And as I have begun, before I end 
I'll at the height revenge it ; let us step aside. 
They come: the object's so ridiculous, 
In spite of my sad thoughts I cannot but 
Lend a forced smile to grace it. 

Re-enter Hilahio, with Ubaldo spinning, and 
Rica R DO reeling, 

Hil, Come away : 
Work as you go, and lose no time; 'tis precious ; 
You'll find it in your commons. 

Ric. Commons, call you it ? 
The word is proper ; I have grazed so long 
Upon your commons, I am almost starved here. 

Hit. Work harder, and they shall be better 'd. 

Ubald. Better'd! 
VVorser they cannot be : would I might lie 
Like a dog under her table, and serve for a foot- 
stool, 

• For festival-exceedinKS.1 <• At the Middle Temple an 
additional disli to the regular dinner is still called ' exceed- 
ings;' to wliitli appellation MassinRer alludes in The Pic- 
ture, by llie expression of festival fxceedinya: but his editor, 
Coxet.r, not knowing the origin of the phrase, thinks Vx- 
Wdtny festivals' had been belter." Hocclive's Poems, by 
Waw)n, 4to. 1795, p. (57. For this extract I am indebted to 
Kr. AValdron. 



So I might have my belly full of that 
Her Iceland cur refuses ! 

Hil. How do you like 
Your airing ? is it not a favour? 

Ric. Yes ; [hounds 

Just such a one as you use to a brace of grey- 
When they areled out of their kennels to scumber ; 
But our case is ten times harder, we have nothing 
In our bellies to be vented : if you will be 
An honest yeoman-fewterer*, feed us first. 
And walk us after. 

Hil. Yeoman-fewterer ! 
Such another word to your governor, and you go 
Supperless to bed for't. 

Ubald. Nay, even as you please ; 
The comfortable names of breakfasts, dinners. 
Collations, supper, beverage, are words 
Worn out of our remembrance. 

Ric. O for the steam 
Of meat in a cook's shop ! 

Ubald. I am so dry, 
I have not spittle enough to wet my fingers 
When I draw my flax from my distaff. 

Ric. Nor I strength 
To raise my hand to the top of my reeler. Oh ! 
I have the cramp all over me. 

Hil. What do you think [it, 

Were best to apply to if.' A cramp-stone, as I tak* 
Were verv useful. 

Ric. Oh ! no more of stonesf. 
We have been lised too long like hawks already. 

Ubald, We are not so high in our flesh now to need 
casting. 
We will come to an empty fist. 

Hil. Nay, that you shall not. 
So ho, birds^! — [^hoUls up a piece of bread."] — How the 

eyasses scratch and scramble ! 
Take heed of a surfeit, do not cast your gorges ; 
This is more than I have commission (or; b» 
thankful. 



• An honest yeoman-fewterer,] In this and the pVecediug 
rpeech the terms are borrowed from the kennel ; fewterer, 
a name which frequently occnis in our old Ireali^es on 
hunting, was the person who took charge of the do'^s imme- 
diately under the huntsman. We now call him, 1 believe, 
(he \%hipper-in. 

Blount derives this word from the French vaultre, which, 
as Cotgrave sajs, means a mongrel hound; whence eeltu- 
ritis, and vavltarius, a huntsman. 

t Kic. <Jk! no more oy' stones, 

We have been used too long like hawks already. 
Ub.dd. He are not no high in our lUsh now to need 
casting, 

We will come to an empty Jist.] To understand this, it will 
be necessary to have recourse to the treatises on the " noble 
science of hawking." — " When the hawk will come to the 
lure, then give her every night stones, till you find her 
stomach good : alter that, prolVr her castiny, to mat e her 
cleanse and purge her gorge." — 7'Ae Gentleman's Kecreation 
p. 1.1.1. 

.Hiimanily Ifs seldom obtained a greater triumph than in 
the abolition of this most excciahle pursuit, compared to 
which, cocktighling and bull-bailing are innocent amnse> 
nienls : and this not so much on account of the game killed 
in the open tield, as of the immense number of doinestie 
animals sacritictd to the instiuction of the hawk. Thf 
blood runs cold while we peruse the calm directions of iv^ 
brutal lalconer, to impale, tie down, faslin by the beak 
break the legs and wings of living pigeons, hens, and some- 
times htrons, for the hourly exercise of the hawk, wliowai 
thus enabled to pull tlieni to pieces without resistance. 

I So li.>, birds ! How the eyasses scratch and scramble'.] 
So bo, birds', was the falconer's rail to feed. An eyast, 
as I leain from the respectable authority quoted above, is a 
young hawk newly taken out of the nest, and nut able to 
prey for himself. 



Scene II.] 



THE PICTURE. 



979 



Soph. VV'ere iiU tliat study tlie :ibuse of women 
Used tlius, ilie city would not swarm with cuckolds, 
Nor so niiinv trndesmen break. 

Coris. Pray vou, nppeur now, 
And mark the alteration. 

nil. 'Vo your work, 
My lady is in presence; show your duties • 
Exceeding well. 

Sufih. Mow do your scholars profit? 

Hil. Hold up your heads demurely. Prettily, 
For younn- h-Pi;inners. 

Coris. And will do well in time, 
If tiiey he kept in awe. 

Ric. In awe ! I am sure 
I quake like an aspen leaf. 

Uhaid, No mercy, lady t 

Ric, Nor intermission ? 

iS'.>/j/j. Let me see your work : 
Fie tipon't, what a thread's here ! a poor cobler's wife 
Would make a finer to sew a clown's rent startup*; 
And here you reel as you were drunk. 

Ric. I am sure 
It is not with wine. 

Soph. O, take iieed of wine; 
Cold water is far better for your healths. 
Of which I am very tender: you hud foul bodies, 
And must continue in this physical diet. 
Till the cause of your disease be ta'en away. 
For tear of a relapse ; and that is dangerous ; 
Yet I hope already tl)at you are in some 
Dei-ree recovered, and that way to resolve me. 
Answer me truly; nay, what 1 propound 
Concerns both ; nearer : what would you now give, 
It' yi'ur means were in your hands, to lie all night 
With a fresh and handsome lady \ 

I'ImUi. I low ! a lady? 
O, I am past it ; hunger with her razor 
Hath made me an eunuch. 

Ric. For a mess of porridge. 
Well sopp'd with a bunch of radish and a carrot, 
I would sell my barony ; but for women, oL ! 
No more of women : not a doit for a doxy, 
After tliis hungry voyage. 

Soph. These are truly 
Good symptoms ; let them not venture too much in 

the air, 
Till they are weakerf. 

Ric. This is tyranny. 

Uhald. Scorn upon scorn. 

Soph. You were so 
In your malicious intents to me. 

Enter a Servant. 

And therefore 'tis but justice What's the busi- 
ness ? 
Serv. My lord's great friend, signior Baptista, 
madam. 
Is newly lighted from his horse, with certain 
Assurance of ray lord's arrival. 



• a clown's rent startup;] A startup, 

Mr. M. Mason says, is part of a man's dress — so, indeed, is 
■ bag-«ig and swoid. It appears, from many passages in 
onr i(l') writers, that a ftarlnp was a coarse kind of lialf- 
bool with thick soles ; tlie pero of llie anciems; 
" Draw cloFe into tlie covert, lest tlie wet, 
VVIiich falls like laiy mists upon the ground, 
Soke through your startups." 

The Faithful Shepherdess. 
t Till they are weaker.] Sophia still allecls to considei 
Ihein as too strong to be trusted abroad, consistently with 
ber safely : there is much good humour and pleasantry ia 
*h\i scene. 



Soph. How ! 
And stand 1 trifling here ? Hence with the mongrels 
To their several kennels; there let them howl ia 

private; 
I'll be no further troubled. 

[ Exeunt Sophia and ServanU 

Ubald. O that ever 
I saw this fury ! 

Hie. Or look'd on a woman 
But as a prodigy in. nature. 

Hil. Silence ; 
No more of this. 

Coris. Mefhinfcs you have no cause 
To repent your being here. 

Hil. Have you not learnt. 
When your states are spent, your several trades tO 

live by, 
And never charge the hospital ? 

Corif. Work but tightly. 
And we will not use a dish-clout in the house. 
But of your spinning. 

Ubald. O, 1 would this hemp 
W^ere turned to a halter I 

Hil. Will you march 1 

Ric. A Soft one, 
Good general, I beseech.you. 

Ubald. I can hardly 
Draw my legs after me. 

Hil For a crutch you may use 
Your distaff; a good wit makes use of all things. 

[ Euunt, 
— ♦ — 

SCENE II. — Another Room in the tamt. 

Enter Sophia and Baptista. 

Soph. Was he jealous of me? 

Bapt. There's no perfect love 
Without some touch oft, madam. 

Soph. And my picture. 
Made by your devilish art, a spy upon 
My actions? I ne'er sat to be drawn, 
Nor had you, sir, commission for't. 

Bapt. Excuse me ; 
At his earnest suit I did it. 

Soph. Very good : — 
Was I grown so cheap in his opinion of me? 

Bapt. The prosperous events that crown his for- 
tunes 
May qualify the offence. 

Soph. Good, the events : — 
The sanctuary fools and madmen fly to. 
When their rash and desperate undertakings thriro 

well : 
But good and wise men are directed by 
Grave counsels, and with such deliberation 
Proceed in their affairs, that chance has nothitij 
To do with them: howsoe'er take the pains, sir. 
To meet the honour (in the king and queen's 
Approaches to my house) that breaks upon me ; 
I will expect them with my best of care. 

Bapt. To entertain such royal guests 

So/./i. 1 know It ; 
Leave that lo me, sir. [Exit Baptista.'] What ehouU 

move the queen. 
So given to ease and pleasure, as fame speaks her. 
To such a journey ? or work on my lord 
To doubt my loyalty, nay, more, to take. 
For the resolution of his fears, a course 
, That is by holy writ denied a Christian t 



teo 



THE PICTURE. 



[Acr.V 



Twas impious in liim, and perliaps the welcome 
He hopes in my embraces may deceive 

[ Trumpets sounded. 

His expectation. The trumpets speak 

The kinuj's arrival: help ;i woman's wit now, 

To make him know his fault, and my just anger! 

[Exit^ 



SCENE Til. — The same.— A Flourish. Enter Ladi»- 
LAUS, Fekdinand, Eubulus, Mathias, Baptista, 
HuNoniA, and Acanthe, viith Attendants. 

Eiihii. Your majesty must be weary, 

tinn No, my lord, 
A willing- mind makes a hard journey easy. 

Ma«/t. Not Jove, attended on by Hermes, was 
More welcome to the cottage of Philemon 
And his poor Baucis, than your gracious self, 
Vour matchless queen, and all your royal train, 
Are to your servant and his wife. 

Lailis. Where is she? 

Hon. I long to see her as my now-loved rival. 

Euhii. Anti I to have a smack at her: 'tis a 
cordial 
To an old man, better than sack and a toast 
Before he goes to supper. 

Math. 11a 1 is my house turn'd 
To a wilderness? nor wife nor servants rieady. 
With :dl rites due to majesty, to receive 
Such unexpected blessings ! You assured me 
Of better prepariition ; hath not 
The excess of joy transported her beyond 
Her understanding? 

Bnpt. I now parted from her. 
And gave her your directions. 

Math. How shall I beg 
Your majesties' patience? sure my family's drunk, 
Or by some witch, in envy of my glory, 
A dead sleep thrown upon them. 

Enter Hilario and Servants. 

Serv. Sir. 

Math. But that 
The sacred presence of the king forbids it, >, 
My sword should make a massacre among you. 
Where is your mistress? 

Hit. Fii St, you are welcome liome, sir : 
Then know, she says she's sick, sir. — There's no 

notice 
Taken of my bravery ! 

Math. Sick at sucli a time ! 
It cannot I e : though she were on her death-bed. 
And her spirit e'en now departed, here stand they 
Could call it back again, and in this honour 
Give her a second being. Bring me to her; 
I know not what to urge, or how to redeem 
This mortgage of her manners. 

{^Exeunt Mathias, Hilario, and Servants. 

Eubu. There's no climate 
On the world, I think, where one jade's trick or other 
Reigns not in women. 
- • Ferd. You were ever bitter 
Against the sex. 

Ladis. This is very strange. 

Hon. Mean women 
Have their faults, as well as queens. 

Lad ii.O, she appears now. 



He-enter Mathias witfe Sophia; Wii.avi.\o following. 

Math. Tiie injury that you conceive I have done 
you 
Dispute hereafter, and in your perveiseness 
Wrong not yourself and me. 

Soph. J am p:ist my childhood*. 
And nee*i no tutor. 

Math. 'J'liis is the great king. , 
To whom I am eni;aged till death for all 
I stand possess'd of. 

Soj.h. iMv humble roof is proud, sir. 
To be the canopy of so much'greatness 
Set off with goo<lness. 

Ladis. My own praisfs flying 
In such pure iiir as your sweet breath, fair lady. 
Cannot but |dease me. 

Math. 'J'his is the queen. of queens, 
In her magnificence to nie. 

Soph. In mv duty 
I kiss her highness' robe. 

lion. You stoop loo low 
To her whose lips would meet with yours. 

S.-yph. Howe'er [A'imcj her. 

It may appear preposterous in women 
So to encounter, 'tis your pleasure, madam. 
And not my j>roud ambition. — Do you hear, sir? 
Without a magiciil picture, in the touch 
I find your print of close and wanton kisses 
On the queen's lips. \^Ai>ide to Matthias, 

Math. Ujion your life be silent: 
And now salute these lords. 

Suph. Since you will have nie. 
You .shall see 1 am exjerienced at the game. 
And can play it tightly. You are a brave man, sir, 

[To Ferdinand. 
And do deserve a free and hearty welcome : 
Be this the prologue to it. [Aiise* him, 

Eubu. An old man's turn 
Is ever last in kissing. I have lips too. 
However cold ones, madam. 

Soph. I will warm them 
With the fire of mine. [Kiises him, 

Euhu. And so she has ! I thank you, 
I shall sleep the better all night for't. 

JVJa(/i. You express 
The boldness of a wanton courtezan. 
And not a matron's modesty ; take upf, 
Or you are disgraced for ever. 

Soph. How ? with kissing 
Feehngly, as you taught me? would you have me 
Turn mv cheek to them, as proud ladies use 
To their inferiors, as if they intended 
Some business should be whisper'd in their ear. 
And not a salutation? what I do, 
I will do freely ; now 1 am in the humour, 
I'll fly at all : are there any more ? 

Maih. Forbear, 
Or you will raise my anger to a height 
That will descend in fury. 

Soph. Why? you know 
How to resolve yourself what my intents are. 
By the help of ftJephostophilusJ, and your picture: 

• Soph. 7 tir:! pant my childhood. 

And need no tutur.\ Tlie pretty perverseness of Sophia ii 
excelleiiily inaiiagtcl in tl'.is j-hort confcrtncc, and lier break- 
ing out at length, lughly n;itur:;l and amusing. 

t take up,] i. c. check 

yoursflf. 

I By the help of Mcphostophilus,] i. e. Baptista. Me 
phottophilu» is th*- iiain>> uf a fiend or t'aniiliar spirit in tbt 



ScEir* III.] 



THE PICTURE. 



«n 



Pniy you, look upon't a^nin. 1 Immblv tliank 

The ([iieen's great care of me wliiie you were absent. 

Siie knew Iiow te<liotis 'twas for a young wife, 

And bt?ing for that time a kind of widow. 

To pass awav her melanchulv liours 

Without good company, and in charity, therefore, 

Provided for me : Out of Iier own store 

She cull'd tlie lords Ubaldo and l{ican!o, 

Two princi[)al courtiers for ladies' service, 

To do me :ill good offices ; and as such 

Einj)lov'd bv her, 1 Impe I iiave received 

And entertuin'd ihem ; nor shall they depart 

Without the effect arising from the cause 

That brought them hither. 

Malh. Thou dost belie thyself: 
I know that in my absence thou wert honest. 
However now turn'd monster. 

Soi'li, 'Jhe truth is. 
We did not deal, like you, in speculations 
On cheating pictures ; we knew shadows were 
No substances, and actual performance 
The best assurance. I will bring them hither. 
To make good in this presence so much for me. 
Some minutes space I beg your majesties' pardon. — 
You are moved now : — champ ujion this bit a 

little, 
Anon you shall hftve another. Wait me, Ililario. 

( Eieunt Sojihia and Hilario. 

Lailis. How now ? turn'd statue, sir! 

Math. Flv, and flv cpiickly. 
From this cursed habitation, or this Gorgon 
Will make you all as 1 am. In her tongue 
Millions of adders hiss, and every hair 
Upon her wicked liead a snake more dreadful 
Than that Tisiphone threw on Athamas, 
Which in his madness forced him to dismember 
His [)roper issue. O that ever 1 
Rejiosed my trust in magic, or believed 
Impossibilities ! or that charms had power 
To sink and search into the bottomless hell 
Of a false woman's hear; 1 

Euhu. These are the fruits 
Of marriage ! an old bachelor as[ am, 
And, what's more, will continue so, is not troubled 
With these fine vagaries. 

Ferd. 'Jill you are resolved, sir. 
Forsake not hope*. 

Bap. Upon my life, this is 
Dissimulatioi.. 

I.aclis. And it suits not with 
Your fortitude and wisdom to be thus 
'l'rans])orted with your passion. 

Hon. You were once 
Deceived in me, sir, as I was in you ; 
Yet the deceit pleased both. 

Malh. Slie hath coiiftss'd all; 
What fiirlher proof should I ask? 

//('«. Yet remember 
The distance that is interposed between 
A woman's tongue and lier heart ; and you must 

grant 
You build upon no certainties. 

UUtnry of Or. Fatistus, a* will as in I he play of lli.it name 
by Cliii-loplHT Mailuvv. He is also nieiiiioiied by Sliaks- 
peaie, Jousun, FKiclier, anil, indeeil, by mo. t of our old 
drani.ilisls. 

• 'I'liynu are lesiilveil, sir. 

Forsake not hope, /^f^o/ced is convinced. Thus Shaks- 
peare : 

" Ry heavens! I am reso'vfd 

Timl Clilturd's manliood lies upon bis tongae." 



Re-enter Sophia, Cor isca, unri Hilaiiio, with Ubaldo 
andRiCAKDO, spinning and reeling, as before, 

Euhu. What have we here? 

Soph. You must come on, and show yourselves. 

VhaU. Ihe king ! 

liic. And queen too! would I were as far undw 
the earth 
As I am above it ! 

Ubald. Some poet will*, 
From this relation, or in verse or pro.se, 
Or both together blended, render us 
Ridiculous to all ages. 

Ladis. I remember 
This face, when it was in a better plight: 
Are not you II cardo? 

Hon. And this thing, I take it, 
AVas once Ubaldo. 

Ubald. I am now I know not what. 

Eic. We thank your majesty for employing uM 
To this subtile Circe. 

Euhu, How, my lord ! turn'd spinster! 
Do you work by the day, or by the great? 

Ferd. Is your theorbo 
Turn'd to a distaff, signior.^nd your voice, 
\Vith which you chanted, llooni for a lusty gallant f 
'J'uned to the note of Lachrymal ? 

Eubu. Prithee tell me, 
For 1 know thou'rt free, how oft, and to the pur- 
pose, • 
You've been merry with this lady. 

Ric. Never, never. 

Ladis. Howsoever, you should say so for yo»r 
credit, 
Being the only court bull. 

Ubald. O that ever 
I saw this kicking heifer ! 

Soph. You see, madam. 
How I have cured j'our servants, and what favours 
They with their rampant valour have won from m9. 
You may, as they are physic'd, 1 presume, 
Trust a i'atr virgin with them ; they have learn'd 
Their several trades to live by, and paid nothing 
But cold and hunger for them : and may now 
Set up for themselves, for here 1 give them orer. 
And now to you, sir ; why do you not again 
Peruse your picture, and take the advice 
Of your learned consort ? these are the men, o» 
none, 

* Some poet will, &c. i There is something! (leliulitful in 
these rtiiiicipaiioiisof fulnre fame by yreal minds. 'I'liey are 
the tl.iweiy spots in ihe poet's thorny wiy, «liii-h besjiiile 
the wearisomeness of his pili-rima^e, and in despite of col* 
ncss anil mglicl, reconcile him lo his fate. 

T Tuned to the no/e o/ LaeliTy ma; ( l.achrymcE {m .Sir 
John Hawkins inloiins us, in his History of Music) was 
the title of a muiiical work composed by John Konl.ind, a 
celebrated liitaiiist in ihe time ol kiii^r James I. "The title 
of II at length is: Ijachrymce, or seven '/'earer fiyuted m 
seavcn passionate Pavans, with divers other Paraiis, Cati- 
ards,and Almans, set forth to the Lute, t iot, or I io'in,in 
five harts." To this performance, « hicli was once exec ediiiLly 
popular, allusions are found in most of our old diaiuaiists. 
I do not know wh.il Ihe " feaven passionate" (i. e. atttcling) 
coiiipo-i ions were, which made up the bulk of this colUciii>D, 
but il seems, from llie followiiii; extract, that one of lliem 
was Ihe beautiful and pathetic Lamentation of Lady Arm 
Bothwell : 

" Calow, my babe, lie still and sleepe, 

Il grieves me sair to see lliee weepe ;" &c. 

" at. You mu.-icians, play Baloo. 

Wife. No, good tJeorge ; let's have Lachrynus. ' 
CU. Why this is it." „ . 

The Knight of the Jiurnxng PutU. 



«69 



THE PICTURE. 



[Act. V 



That made you, as the Itnlian says*, a hecco, 

Math. I Iviion- not which way to entreat your 
pardon, 
Nor am 1 worthy of it. My Spohia, 
IVIy best Sopliiii ; here before tlie Kino;, 
The queen, tliese lords, and ;dl tlie lookers on, 
I tlo renounce my error, and embrart- you, 
As the g;reat ."xample to all aftertinies. 
For such as would die chaste and noble wives, 
With reverence to imitate. 

Soph, Not so, sir, 
I yet hold off. However I have pureed 
My doubted innocence, the foul aspersions. 
In your unmanly doubts, cast on my honour, 
Cannot so soon be wash'd off. 

Eubu. Shall we have 
More jig£;obobs yet ? 

Soph. When you went to the wars, 
1 set no spy upon vou to observe 
Which way you wander'd, tliougli our sex by nature 
Is subject to suspicions and ft-ars ; 
Mv confidence in your loyaltv freed nie from them. 
But, to deal as vou, did, agfiiinst your religion, 
With tiiis enciianter, to survey my actions. 
Was more than womanis weakness ; therefore know. 
And 'tis my boon unto tlie kinz, I do 
Desire a separation from your bed ; 
For I will spend the remnant of my life 
In praver and meditation. 

Math. O, take pity ' 
Upon my weak condition, or I am 
More wretched in your innocence, ttian if 
I had found vou guilty. Have you shown a jewel 
Out of tlie cabinet of your rich mind. 
To lock it up au;ain? Slie turns away. 
Will none i-peak for me? thame and sin have robb'd 

me 
Of the use of my tongue. 

lM(lis. Since you have concjuer'd, madam, 
You wrong the j^lorv of your victory 
If you use it not with mercy. 

Firrd. Any penance 
You please to impose upon him, I dare warrant 
He will fjladly suffer. 

Euhu. Have 1 lived to see 
But on" good woman, and shnll we for a trifle 
Have her turn nun? I will first pull down the 

cloister. 
To the old spoil again, with a good luck to you ! 
'Tis not alone enough that you are good. 
We nuisi have some of tiie breed of you : will you 

destroy 
The kind and race of goodness? I am converted. 
And ask your pardon, madam, for my ill opinion 
Ag;iinst the sex ; and show me but two such more, 
I'll marry yet. and love them. 

Hon. Siie that yet 
Ne'er knew what 'twas to bend but to the king, 
Thus begs remission for him. 

Soph. O, dear madam, 
Wrong not your greitness so, 

Omues. We all are suitors. 

• Tluit made you,ai the Italian jays, a bccco.] So the old 
copy, whiili n far more liumoi oils than llie sopliistication 
of iMr. M. Mafoii — as llie Italians say, &c. 

BefcoU rendered, b) llie coiiunenialors on our old plays, 
a cuckoll ; llie Italians linwever, i;ive a more defamatory 
Sense: with llieiii it ({enerally iiieaii> what we call a wit- 
tol, i. e. one crcessary to his ovm disgrace. This too is the 
meaiiiim it boars in Ma5sin<;er and his contemporaries, who 
were, generally speaking, no iuditlerent llaliau scholars. 



Uhuld. I do deserve to be heard among the rest. 

Bic. And we have suffer'd for it. 

Soph. I perceive 
Tliere's no resistance : but suppose I pardon 
VVliat s past, who can .--ecuie me he'll be free 
From jealousy hereafter ? 

Math. I will be 
My own security : go, ride, where you please ; 
Feast, revel, ban(|uet, and make choice with wham, 
I'll set no watch upon you ; and, fur proof of it. 
This cursed picture I surrender up 
To a consuming fire, 

Biipt. As I abjure 
The ))ractice of my art. 

Soj'h. Upon these terms 
I am reconciled ; and fur these that have paid 
The price of iheir folly, I desire your mercy. 

Lndis. At your request th*y have it, 

Ubald, Hang all trades now. [honest. 

lite. I will find a new one, and that is, to live 

Hit, 'I'hese are my fees*. 

Uhiild. Pray vou, take them, with a mischief ! 

Ludis. So, all ends in peace now. 
And, to all marrit d men, be this a caution, 
Which they should duly tender as their life. 
Neither to dute too much, nor doubt a wife. 

' [Eieuntf, 

♦ 

SoNO, hy Pallas, in praise of' the victirioua Solditr, 
See Act II., Sc. 2, 

Though we contemplate to express 

'i'he glory of our hiijipiness. 
That, by your pi.wi-rful arm, have been 

So true a victor, th..t no sin 
Could ever taint you with a blame 

To lessen your deserved fame. 

Or, thcugh we contend to set 

Your worth in the full height, or get 

Celestial singers, crown'd with hays. 
With flourishes to dress your pniise : 

You know your coiuiuest ; but your story 
Lives in your triumjihant glory. 

• Hil. These are my J'eis.] iMeanins; the clothes of ihe 
two courtiers: they, it should be recollected, aie at this lime 
dressed in the cast rags of Hilario. 

t The fondness wliich Mass'intjer seems to hive fell fo- 
this play was not misplaced. 'I'he circnmslance on uhica 
it is founded is, indeed, snlticienlly fantastical, and was dis 
allowed by tic philosophy of his own ai;e : bui this is no 
serious hindrance to the ettect of the piece. It is <li.-tm- 
giiished by a peculi.ir liveliness of fancy, and an intimate 
knowledge of the heart. It is sportive and tender: it amuses 
and atiects us ; and a vein of humour, more bri^k than 
usual, relieves the impression of the serious eveiitj. 

The comic part is too attractive in itself to need any 
recommendation, and its cited is too po.^crful to be missed 
by any reader. But it may not be useless to point but the 
substantial, though less obtrusive, merit of the serious scene.v 

If it is more than usually ditlicult to ascertain the influ- 
ence of sudden passions in liosonis generally virtuous, and 
well regulated, to balance tlic struggle betwcin habitual 
principle and accidental temptation, to measure their impres- 
sion and resistance, and to determine the side to which the 
victory is due; it is the praise of Massiiiger to have sur- 
mounted this diHiculty, in the characters of Mathias and 
Sophia ; in the exquisite description of their tender attach- 
ment, the casual interruption of their peace, its happy res- 
toration, and the proper tiiiimph of virtue. His addiess is 
further displayed in the dilterencc of the causes which bring 
them back to their duty and to each other. The fortitude, 
contcntedness, and simplicity of Sophia are the surer guar- 
dians of her conduct; while the ardent spirit of Mathias, 
bold in seeking advantages abroad, but impatient concerning 
his happiness at home, e.Yposes him more to the intlucncaof 
dangerous imprcssious. Accordingly, after a Iciafontf 



8cF.N« iri.i 



THK PICTURE. 



283 



illnaion, she rescues herself from mischief by the force of 
her own mind. He is preserved by oilier causes, the unex- 
pected refusal of Honoria, and the renewed certainty of the 
constancy of his wife. 

As to the queen herself, the cause of their unhappincss, 
she is described with much novelty, and truth ol nature. 
Mr. Colman* has talked of her pmsi on ; if this is the proper 
term, it is a pa'sion, not for a person, but a principle. She 
offers herself to Mathias from no genuine attachment: it is 
mere envy of the constancy between him and Sophia, ami a 
malicious determination to show her own superiority, at 
whatever risk. Her constitutional vanity, dangerously nursed 
hy the doting admiration of her husband, impels her to 
seduce a virtuous man whom slie<li>es not love. Her wan- 
tonness is whim ; and she prepares to be faithless herself, 
because she cannot bear a rival in fidelity. 

It is here to be remarked, that Massiiiger seems to have 
prepare<l this Play with all the resources which he could 
command. 

In the Observation? on The Duke of Milan, the reader has 
been already taiiiihl to expect a similariiy between the con- 
jugal dotage of Sfor/a and Ladislaus, &c. &c. Several 
other plays have been made to contribute sentiments and 
incidents to The Picture. Il is impossible to read Honoria's 
temptation of Mathias, Act. MI, sc. v. and not to remember 
the progress of Donu^'s solicitations, and the amazement 
of ViteiW.— Fetie<j.(ido, Act II. sc. iv. — The Iloman Actor 
furnishes other circuinstances of the same kind, from the 
conversation of Paris boih with Doniilia and the emperor, 
^ct IV. sc, ii: and it is remarkable, that he pleads with 

• S'ee his Crxlicul Reflection* on the old EnglUh Dranuf 
tic l'yr't*r: 



the latter, not only in the thooghl, but in the very manner o 
Honoria: iheir argument appears to contradict Ihur owu 
wi^he5, and this is equally noticed by Doniiiiaii and Ma- 
thias. The whimsical weakness to which Ubaldo and Ri- 
cardo are reduced, and the jokes to which it exjjosei ihein, 
have already ainuse<l us in tl e characteristic puiii:.hment 
of Perigoi — Parliament of Love. And, to quote i>nly one 
more instance, though several might be added, the noble 
freedom with which Mathias corrects the levity of the 
queen. Act IV, sc. iv, though greatly superior to it, is cer- 
taiuly suggested by Gonzaga's austere but spirited rebuke of 
Aurelia— .Wairf of Honour. Act IV. sc. iv. 

In short, Massinger nas not scrupled to adorn this Play 
with whatever was atforded by the story itself, or could be 
added from his own writings ; and, like the artist of old, he 
has composed an exquisite Picture froin a collection of many 
scattered beauties. 

There are two morals combined in this play ; one arising 
from the doting love of Ladislaus; the other, from the sus- 
picions of Mathias. Vanity is always iinleeling: and, 
through indiscreet admiration, may be tarried far beyond 
the supposed frivolonsness ot its nature, and become a 
raging passion, destructive of our own virtue and ot the 
happiness of others. Again, unreasonable doubt destroys 
the very happiness which il labours to sccnie. Irritation is 
the natural consequence of unjust suspicion ; and the desire 
of revenge hurries us into actions Irom which our belter 
principles would oiherwise have preserved us. What ij 
worse, we excuse ourselves in mischief on account of the 
very motive on which we act ; and are content to be outra- 
faouf on tbc flattering principle of Justice itself. 

Db. iRELAHtk. 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



The Emperor or the East.'] This Trao'i-comedy was licensed for the stage March ^ 1th, 1631, and 

trinted in the following year. 'J'he |)lot is tak; n Iriim the history of ') heodosius the vounger, as delivered 
y the Byzantine writers. See the concluding Observations by Dr. Ireland. 

Massinger lias followed his various authorities somewhat more closely than usual ; indeed, he disclaims, 
in the Prologue, all merit on the score of invention, the work being, as he says, " a story of reverend an» 
tiquity." 

Notwithstanding the excellence of this Play, it met with some opposition at its appearance : its distin* 
guished merits, liowever, procured it a representation at court, and it finally seems to have grown into very 
general favour. It is preceded, in the old edition, by several commendatory poems, one of which, by W. 
Singleton, is not undeserving of praise. 

it was frequentiv acted, as tJbe title-nasre tens us. " at tne Blackfriars and Globe Play-houses, by tlie 
King's Majesty's servants." 



TO TUE FIGHT HONOURABLE, AND Mr ESPECIAL GOOD LOHft, 

% JOHN LORD MOHUN, 

BAIION OF OKEHAMPTON, &c. 

My Good Lord, 

Let my presumption in styling you so (having never deserved it in my service), from the clemency of your 
noble disposition, find pardon •. The reverence due to the name of Mohun, long since honoured in three 
earls of Somerset, and eight barons of JMunster, may challenge I'rom all pens a deserved celebration. And 
the ratlier in respect those titles were not purchased, but conferred, and contmued in your ancestors, for 
many virtuous, noble, and still living actions ; nor ever forfeited or tainted, but when the iniquity of those 
times laboured the depression of approved goodness, and in wicked policy held it fit that loyalty and faith, 
in taking part with the true prince, should be degraded and mulcted. But this admitting no further dilation 
in this place, may your lordship please, and with all possible brevity, to understand the reasons why I am, in 
humble thank fulness, ambitious to shelter this poem under the wings of your honourable protection, ftiy worthy 
friend, Mr. Aston Cockayne, your nephew, to v\y extraordinary content, delivered tome that your lordship, 
• atyour vacant hours, sometimes vouchsafed to peruse such trifles of mine as have passed the press.and notalono 
warranted them in your gentle suffrage, but disdained not to bestow aremembrance of your love, and intended 
favour to me. I profess to the world, I was exalted with the bounty, and with good assurance, it being so 
rare in this age to meet with one noble name, that, in i'ear to be censured of levity and weakness, dares ex» 
press itself a friend or patron to contemned poetry f. Having, therefore, no means else left me to witness 
the obligation in which I stand most willingly bound to your lordship, I offer this I'ragi-comedy to your 
gracious acceptance, no way despairing, but that with a clear aspect you will deign to receive it (it being 
an induction to my future endeavours), and that in the list of those, that to your merit truly admire you, 
you may descend to number 

Your lordship's faithful honourer, 

PHILIP MASSINGER. 

• MY GOOD LORD, 

Let my presumption instijling you »o.&c]. To underttnnd tliis sentence, it %vill be necessary to recollect that " my good 
• lord" niLMiit, ill llie language of Massinger and liis cuiiii-iiipuiMiii'S, \\\y patron. Of iliis iii.ide of cxpies>ion many instance* 
are to be I'oniid in iliese vuluines. It occurs alsu iu '1 Im Spanish Irayedy, wliicli I mention for tlie sake of correcting a 
kllglit nli^t.lke : 

" Lor. \\ liHt wou1<l lie witli n? ; lie writes ns licie. To .'tand ^ood Lorenzo, and lielp liim in Iiis distress." Act III. 

In tlie IhIc eililiuiis, tli< re is a comma attir stand, wliicli prrvcil.s llie sinse. 

t Tli.it iliis niible loid not oi.ly favcnrtd poetry, but wrote liiniself, apjiears from Sir Aston Cockayne's letters to Iii» lord 
•Ko, in verse. See Cockayne's Poemt, p. ttu. — Cuxktke. 



SCEN« I."! 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



tts 



PROLOGUE* 



AT THE ni.ACKFniArts. 



But that imjieridus custom warrants it. 
Our autlior with niucli willitigness would omit 
This j)rptiice to liis new work. Heliath found 
(Anil suffi'r'd for't), many are apt to wound 
His credit in this kind : and, wlieihef lie 
Ex]iress himself fearful, or peremptory. 
He ca mot 'sca])e their censures who delight 
To misapply wiiateverhe shall write, 
'Tis his hard fiite. And though he will not sue, 
Or hasely beg such suffrages, yet. to you. 
Free and ingenious spirits, he doth now, 
In me, present his service, with his vow 
He hath done his best ; and, though he cannot glory 
In his invention (this work being a story 
Of reverend anti(|uitv), he dotli hope, 
In the proportion of it, and the scope. 
You may observe some pieces drawn like one 
Of a stedfast hand ; and. with the whiter stone. 
To be mark'd in your fair censures. iMore than this 
I am forbid to promise, and it is 
With the most till you confirm it : since we know 
Whate'er the shaft be, archer, or the bow 
From which 'tis sent, it rannot hit the white, 
Unless your approbation guide it right. 

• This prolngne lias been liitlierto very incorrecily given. 
It is here refuniied frum the uld copies. 



PROLOGUE 



AT COURT. 



As ever, sir, you lent a gracious ear 
To oppress'd innocence, now vouciisafe to hear 
A short petition. At your feet, in me. 
The poet kneels, and to your majesty 
Appeals forjustice. What we now present, 
When first conceived, in his vote and intent, 
Was sacred to your pleasure ; in each part 
With his best of fancy, judgment, language, art, 
Fashion'd and form'd so, as miglit well, and may 
Deserve a welcome, and no vulgar way. 
He durst not, sir, at such a solemn feast, 
Lard his grave matter with one scurrilous jest ; 
But labour'd that no passage might appear. 
But what the queen without a blush might hear : ^ 
And yet this poor work sutfer'd by the rage 
And envy of some Catos of the stage : 
Vet still he hopes this Plav, which then was seen 
With sore eyes.ajid condemn'd out of their spleen, 
]May be by you, the supreme judge, set free, 
And raised above the reach of calumny. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



Theodosius tne youvger, the emperor, 
Paui.inus, a knisiiKiii in the emperor, 
PiiiLiNAX. captain of the guard, 

TiMANTUS, ^ 

Chrvsapii's, ^eunuchs of the emperor's chambeVf 

Grahanus, -' 

Cleon, a traveller, friend to Paulinus, 

Patriarch, 

Informer, 

Projector, 

Master of'ihe Habits and Manners, 

Minion of the Suburbs, 



Countryman, 

Surgeon, 

Empiric. 

PurcHEniA, the protectress, sister to the emperor, 
Athenais, u strange viighi, ajterwards empress, and 

named Eudocia, 
AnCADtA, ) ,1 . , r .1 

T. Ithe tiounser sisters of the emperor, 

rLACClLLA, J J o •' r 

Officers, Suitors, Attendants, Guards, Huntsman, 
Eiecntioners, Servants, 6jc, 



SCENE, Constantinople. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — A Boom in the Palace. 
Enter Paulinus and Ci.eon. 
Paul. In your six years travel, friend, no doubt 
you have met with 
Many and rare adventures, and observed 
The wonders of each climate, varying in 
The manners and the men ; and so return 
For the future service of your prince and country, 
111 your understanding better'd. 



Cle. Sir, I have made of it 
The best use in my power, and hope my gleaningi 
After the full crop others reuj^ed before me, 
Shall not, \vhen I am call'd on, altogether 
A[ipear unprofitable ; yet I leit 
The miracle of miracles in our age 
At home behind me ; every where abroad. 
Fame, with a true though prodigal voice, deliver'd 
Such wonders of Pulcheria, the princess 
To the amazement, nay, astonisbmeut ratlier^ 



186 



THE EMPEKOR OF THE EAST. 



TAovI 



Of sucli as h^d it, tliat I found not one 

In all the states and kingdoms that 1 pass'd through, 

Worthy to be her second. 

Pfl'/l She. indeed, is 
A perfect phenix, and disdains a rival. 
Her infant years, as )0u know, promised much, 
But grown to ripenesS; siie transcends and makes 
Credulityr her debtor. I will tell you, 
In my blunt way, to entertain the time. 
Until you have the happiness to see lier. 
How in vour ab.-ence she hath borne herself. 
And with all possible brevity ; though the subject 
Is such a spacious field, as would rtquire 
An abstract of the purest eloquencto 
(Derived from the most famous orators 
The nurse of learning, Athens, show'd the world) 
In that man that should undertake to be 
Her true historian. 

Cle. In this you shall do me 
A special favour. 

Paul. Since Arcadius' death, 
Our late great master, the protection of 
The prince, his son, the second Theodcsius, 
By a general vote and sufi'mge of the people. 
Was to her charge nssign'd, with the disposure 
Of his so miijy kinj;di)nis. For his jierson. 
She hath so Irain'd him uuin all those arts 
That are both great and good, and to be wish'd 
In an imperial monarch, that the mother 
Of the Ciriicchi. grave Cornelia, Itome still boasts of, 
The wise Pulclieria but named, must be 
No more remembeiM. She, bv her example, 
Hath made the court a kind of academy, 
In which true honour is both learn'd and- prac- 
tised : 
Her private lodgings a chaste iiinnery. 
In which her sisters, as jri.ba'ioner.s, hear 
From her, their .soverei;;!! al)l)ess, all the precepts 
Read in the school of virtue. 

Cte Vou siniiize me. 

Paul. 1 shall, ere I conclude ; for here the wonder 
Begins, noi ends. Wkr soul is so immense, 
And her strong facul'ies so apprehensive, 
To search intu the depth of d- ep ilesigns. 
And of all natures, that liie bur hen, which 
To many men were iiisi;p|M.rl;ible, 
To her is but a gentle exercise, 
Made, by the fiequeni use, lamiliar to her. 

Cte. With your good favour let me interrupt 
you. 
Being, as she is, in every part so perfect, 
Methinks that all knigs of our eastern world 
Should become rivals lor her. 

Paul So ihev have ; 
But to no purpose. She that knows her strength 
To rule a:.d govern monarclK-, siorns to wear 
On her free neck the seivile voke of mairiage; 
And for one loose desire, envy itself 
Oares not presume lo taint hei ; Venus' son 
Is blind indeed when he but gazes »n her ; 
Her c-hastiiy being a rock of diamonds. 
With which encounter'd, his shafts fly in splinters j 
His flaming torches in the liviui; s]iring 
Of her perfections (piencliVl ; and, to crown all. 
She's so impartial when she sitb iipoii 
The high tririunal, neither swaj'd with pity 
Nor awed by fear, bevond her equal scale. 
That 'tis not superstition to believe 
Astrea once more lives upon the eartl), 
Pulcheiia's breast her temple. 



Cle. You have given her 
An admirable character. 

Paul. She deserves it : 
And such is the commanding power of virtce. 
That from her vicious enemies it compels 
Paeans of praise; as a due tribute to her. 

[Loud mutie. 

Cle. What njeans this solemn music? 

Paul. Sir*, it ushers 
The emperor's morning meditation. 
In which Pulcheria is more than assistant. 
''J"is worth your observation, and you may 
Collect from her expense of time this day. 
How her hours, for many years, have been dis- 
posed of. 

Cle. I am all eyes and ears. 

Enter, after a strain of solemn music, Philavax, 
TiiMANTus, Patriarch, 'J'heodosius, Pulcheiiia, 
Flaccii.la, and Ahcadta ; Jh'lowid by Ciirvsai'ius 
and Ghamanus ; Servants and Officers. 

Pul. Your patience. Sir. 
Let those corrupted ministers of the court. 
Which you complain of, our devotions ended. 
Be cited to appear : for the ambassadors 
Who are impoitunate to have audience. 
From me vou may assure them that to-morrow 
They shall in jmblic kiss the emperor's robe. 
And we in private with our soonest leisure. 
Will give them hearing. Have you especi il car* 

too. 
That free access be granted unto all 
Petitioners. The mojning wears. — Pray you on, 

sir ; 
Time lost is ne'er recover'd. 

[^Eieunt all but Paulinas and Clean, 

Paul. Did vou note 
The majesty she a])pears in? 

Cle. Yes, my good lord ; • 
I was ravish'd with it. 

Paul. And then, with what speed 
She orders her dispatches, not one daring 
To interpose ; the emjieror himself. 
Without rejily, ]intiiiig in act whaterer 
She pleased lo im[)oset upon him. 

Cle. Vet there were some. 
That in their sullen looks, rather confess'd 
A forced constraint to serve her, than a will 
To be at her devotion : what are they? 

Paul. I'iunuchs of the emperor's chamber, that 
repine 
The globe and awful sceptre should give place 
Unto the distatt', for as such ihey whisper 
A woman's government, but dare not yet 
Express themselves. 

Cle. From whence are the ambassadors 
To whom she i)romised audience? 

Pnul. They are 
Employ 'd bv divers princes, who desire 
Alliance with our empeior, whose years now, 
As you see, write him man. One would advance 
A daughter to the honour of his bed ; 



• Pant. Sir, it ushers, &c.^ A moiiosy'lable Iihs rlropt out 
here. 1 have iii?erlt<l ^'iir the must iiiiiucent oi.e that 
orciirverf ii« ine. 

♦ .She pliased to impote] Is, which the inorlcrn editors 
irijieri bi'ii>re phased, wAi adiiiilled without aulhuiity, and 
iudced wilbuut oeces&ity. 



SCENR II.I 



IME KMPF.ROR OF THE EAST. 



A spcond, his fuir sister: to instruct vou 

In the pariiculars would ask longer lime 

Than my own designs give way lo. I have letters 

From special (Viends 6fniine, Hiat to my care 

Commend a stranger virgin, whom this morning 

I purpose t!) ])iesent hefbre the princess : 

If you please, you may accompany me. 

Cle. I'll wait on you. [Exeunt. 



SCENK ]I. — Another Uoom in the same. 
Evter the Informer, uith Officers hringiiig in the Pro- 
jector, the .Minion of the Suburbs, «»(/ the Master 
of the JIahitaiid Manners. 

In/or. Wliy should you droop, or hang your 
Ti'orking heads ? 
No dangler is meant, to you ; pray bear up : 
For aught I know, you are cited to receive 
Preferment due to your merits. • 

Proj. \'eiy likely : 
In all the projects I have read and practised, 
I never found one man compell'd to come 
Before the seat of justice under guard, 
To receive honour. 

hijnr. No ! it may be, you are 
The first example. Men of qualities, 
As 1 have deliver'd you to the protectress, 
Who knows how to advance them, cannot conceive 
A filter place to liave their virtues publish'd. 
Than in open court. Could you liope that the 

pi incess. 
Knowing your precious merits, will reward them 
In a private corner? No ; you know not yet 
How you may be • xalted. 

Min. To the gallows, ' 

Injhr Fie ! 
Nor yet depress'd to the gallies : in your names 
You carry no such crimes: your Sj ecious titles 
Cannot but take ]wt: — President of the Projectors ! 
What a noise it makes! 'I'he Master of the llabii* ' 
How proud would some one country be that 1 know, 
To be your first pu|iil* ! Alinion of tlie Suburbs, 
And now and then admitted to the court. 
And honour'd wiih the style of Squire of Damesf ! 
What hurt is in it? One thing I must tell you, 
As I am the state-scout, you may think me an in- 
former. 
Most. They are synonymaj. 

• The Master of the Habit ■' 

How proud woufd some one country be. that I know. 
To be your first piipill]" &U\\ liarjiiiig npipii England," 
which, at the time tliese scenes are supposed to have taken 
place, was struggling with a few " naked Picts" for wolves' 
fkins ! 

t And honoured teifh the style of Squire of Dames !1 This 
seems lo have been a cant term, witli our old dramatists, 
for a pander, in allusion probably to his designation. The 
Squire o' Dames is a personage of great respectability in the 
faerie Qutene, (rom whence, as Mr. <!i)christ observes to 
me, M^s»iiii;cr derived the appellation. In Book III. 
Canto vii. St.tn/.a ."ia, " he is dispatched by liis mistress, to 
relieve distressed damsel" during the space of a twelvemonth. 
This injunction he hapjily perforn:s, and returns with three 
hundred proofs of his prowess and success; his capricious 
fair one then foi bids bim her prescence until he can lind as 
many other ladies, 

' The which, for all the suit he could propound. 
Would him refuse their pledges to attord. 
But did al)ide for ever chaste and simnd." 
" After straying Ihrer years, and endeavouring with all 
his might to etiei'l ihe purpose of his mission, he acknow- 
ledges lo Satjrane (miserahilr diV/u I ^ that he hail found 
but th.-ie !" The story, as Warlon has observed, ;s copied 
from j\rios!<.'f /Justs Tale, c. is. 
X Min. 7'A<) are synonyma.l The modern editors have 



Infor. Conceal nothing from her 
Of your good parts, 'twill be the better for you , 
Or if you should, it matters not ; she can conjure. 
And I am her ubi(|uiiary spirit. 
Mound to obey her : — vou have ray instructions; 
Stand by, here's better company. 

Enter Paumnus, Cleov, and Xiwe^i ms, with a pelitiofi 

Athen. Can I hope, sir. 
0{)presspd innocence shall find protection 
And justice among siningers, when my brothers. 
Brothers of one womb, by one sire begotten. 
Trample on my afflictions '. 

Paul,. Forget them. 
Remembering those may help you. 

Athen. 'J'hey have robb'd me 
Of all means to prefer my just complaint, 
With any promising hoj.e to gain a hearin<r, 
Much less redress: petitions not sweetened 
Witli gold, are but unsavory, oft refused ; 
Or, if received, are pocketed, not read. 
A suitor's swelling tears by the glowing beams 
Of choleric authority are dried up 
Before they fall, or, if seen, never pitied. 
What will become of a forsaken maid 1 
My flattering hojjes are too weak to encounter 
With my strong enemy, despair, and 'tis 
In vaiu to ojipose her. 

Cle. Cfieer her up ; she faints, sir. 
Paul. This argue.-^ weakness; though your bro. 
thers were 
Cruel beyond e.tpres-ion, and the judges 
'I'hat sentenced you, corrupt ; you shall find here 
One of you own fair sex to doyou right. 
Whose beams of justice, like the sun, p,\tend 
Their light and lieat to strangers, and are not 
Municipal or confined. 

Athen. Pray you, do not feed me 
XVith airy hopes ; unless you can assure me 
The.great Pulcheria will descend to hear 
My miserable story, it were better 
I died without the trouble. 
Paid. She is bound to it 
By the surest chain, her natural inclination 
To help the afflicted ; nor shall long delays 
More terrible to miserable suitors 
Than quick denials, grieve you. Dry your fair eyes ; 
'Ibis room will instantly be sanctified 
With her bless'd presence; to her ready hand 
Present your grievances, and rest assured 
You shall depart contented, 
Athen. You breathe in me 
A second life. 

li'J'or. Will your lordship please to hear 
Your servant a lew words ? 
Paul. Away, you rascal ! 
Did I ever keep such servants? 

Infor. If your honesty 
Would give you leave, it would be for your profit 
Paul. To make use of an informer ! tell me, in 
what 
Can you advantage me ? 



ignoranlly corrupted this into sj/nonjmiout/ but synonyma 
was Ihe word in use in Massingcr's time. 
Thus Jonson : 

" 'Whrre l.ilely liarboui'd many a f:imons whore, 
A purging bill, now hx'il upon ihe door. 
Tells you it is a hui-liousc : so it may, 
And slill be a whoiehouse; — ihcy're synoi.yma." 

Jk-'yi^. vii. 



tua 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



/?.;/V. In the first tender 
Of a fresh suit never besjg'd yet. 

Paul. What's your suit, sir? 

Ir.tnr ' T is feasible ; — here are three arrant knaves 
Discovered by my art. 

Paul. And thou the archknave: 
The ijreat devour the less. 

Infor. And with good reason; 
I must eat one a month, I cannot live else. 

Paul. A notable cannibal ! but should I hear thee, 
In what do your knaves concern me ? 

hifor. In the begging 
Of their t-states. 

Paul, liefore they are condemn'd ? 

Injur. Ves, or arraing'd ; your lordship may 
spealv too late else*. 
They are your own, and I will be content 
With the fifth part of a share. 

Panl. Hence, rogue ! 

Infor, Such rogues 
In this kind will be heard and cherisb'd too. 
Fool that 1 was, to offer such a bargain 
To a spiced-conscience chapman ! — but I care not \ 
What he disdains to taste, others will swallow. 

Loud music. Enter Theodosius, Pulc'iieria, Arca- 
dia, Fi.AcciLLA, Patriarch, Philanax, Timantus, 
CunvsAPius, GnATiANUS, and Attendants. 

Cle. They are returned from the temple,' 

Paul. See she appears ; 
Whiit think you now 1 

Allien. A cunning painter thus, 
Her veil ta'en off, and awful sword and balance 
Laid bv, would picture Justice. 

Put. Wiien you please, 
You may intend those royal exercises 
Suiting vour birth and greatness : I will bear 
The burthen of your cares, and, having purged 
The bodv of your empire of ill humours, 
UjMir, my knees surrender it. • 

ChiQ. Will you ever 
Be awed thus like a bov T 

Gnii. And kiss the rod 
Of -.1 ])roinl mistress? 

Tim. Be what you were born, sir. 

Phil. Obedience and majesty never lodged 
In tlie same inn. 

7'heod. No more; he never learn 'd 
vte right way to command, that stopp'd his ears 
r^ .vise directions. 

Pul. Read o'er the papers 
I left upon mv cabinet, two hours hence 
I will examine you. 

Flac. >Ve spend our time well ! 
Nothing l)ut praying and poring on a book. 
It ill agrees with my constitution, sister. 

Arcad. Would I had been born some masking- 
lady's woman. 
Only to see strange sights, rather than live thus ! 

* ^y,''. "r '"■'■"'i"*'*' ; pour lordship may tpeak too late 
tlte.] This is a severe sarcasm oii ilie avidity of tlie coiiiii- 
ers ill M a s> I II iter's time; nnfoi innately loo, it is jiist. 'I'lie 
estates ot many condemned persons were beyi/ed with scan- 
dalous precipitation by tlio tavouiiies of the ilay, and, what 
io worse, were jusily suspected, in nwie than one iii.-'taiice, 
it hive eonslitiited the principal part of the crime for wliicli 
Uie possessors sintered : 

" Sir, yoii are rich; besides, you know what yon 
Have got by your ward's death: 1 fear you will 
Be beyy'd at court." The Wit*. 



[Act I. 



Fliic. We are gone, forsooth ; there is no remedy, 
sister. [ b'.xeunt Arcadia and Fiaccillot 

Grat. What hath his eye found out? 

Tim. 'lis fix'd upon 
That stranger lady. 

C/iri/. I am glad yet, that 
He dares look on a woman. 

[All this time the Informer is kneeling to Put' 
cheriu, and delivering papert. 
Theo. Philanax, 
What is that comely stranger ? 
Phil. A petitioner. 

C/ui/. Will you Iiear her case, and dispatch her in 
your chamber ? 
I'll undertake to bring her. 

Theo. Bring me to 
Some place where 1 may look on her demeanour: 
'Tis a lovely c-eature ! 

Chry. There's some hope in this yet. 

[^Flnmifh. Exeunt Thendosius, Patriarchy 
PhilanaXj Timaittus, Chry.-apius, and Cr(^ 
tiunus. 

Pul. No : you have done your parts. 

Paul. Now opportunity courts you. 
Prefer your suit. 

Athen. As low as misery 
Can fall, for proof of my humility, 
A poor distressed virgin bows her head, 
Atid lays hold on your goodness, the last altar 
Calamity can flv to for protection. 
Great minds erect their never-falling trophies* 
On the hnn base of mercy ; biK to triumph 
Over a suppliant, by proud fortune cajjtived. 
Argues a bastard conquest :^-'tis to vou 
1 speak, to you, the fair and just Puleheria, 
'J"he wonder of the age, your sex's honour ; 
And as such, deign to hear me. As vou have 
A soul moulded from heaven, and do desire 
To have it made a star there, make the means 
Of your ascent to that celestial height 
Virtue, wing'd with brave action : they draw near 
The nature and the essence of the gods. 
Who imitate their goodness. 

Pul. If you were 
A subject of the empire, which your habit 
In every part denies 

Allien. O, fly not to 
Such iin evasion ! wliate'er I am, 
Being a woman, in humanity 

Vou are hound to right me. Though the difference 
Of my religion may seem to exclude me [fined ; 

From vour defence, which you would have con- 
'J'he moral virtue, which is general, 
Must know no limits. By these blessed feet. 
That pace the paihs of e(|uitv, and tread boldly 
On the stifi'neck of tyrannous oppression. 
By these tears by which 1 bathe them, 1 conjure yoo 
V\ it.h pity to took on me I 

Pul. Pray vou, rise : 
And, as you rise, receive this comfort from me. 
Beauty, set otf with such sweet language, never 
Can want an advocate, and you must bring 
More than a guilty cause if 30U prevail not. 
Some business long since thought upon dispafch'd, 

• Great minds erect their never falling troiihifs] Ne- 
ver-falling is tlie re.Khiii: of llie olil copns. .111 1 should 
not be chan|;cd. Cuxelur and Mr. M. li.asoii exlubit never- 
Jailing. 



?CENE II.] 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



389 



You shall liave liearins:, and, as far as justice 
Will warrant nie, my best aids. 

A then. I do desire 
No stronger guard ; my equity needs no favour. 

[ Walks aside. 

Pul. Are tliese the men? 

Proj. We were, an't like your highness. 
The men, the men of eminence, the mark. 
And mav continue so, if it please your grace. 

Maat. This speech was well projected. 

Pul. Does your conscience, 
I wdl begin with you, whisper unto you 
What here you stand accused of? Are ''Ou named 
The President of Projectors ? 

Injor. Justifvjit, man, 
And tell lier in ^vllatthou'rt useful. 

Proj. Thut is apparent ; 
And if you jdease, ask some about the court. 
And they will tell you, to my rare inventions 
They owe their bravery, perhaps means to purchase, 
And cannot live without me. I, alas ! 
Lend out my labourinsj brains to. use, and sometimes 
For a drachma in the pound, — the more the pity. 
I am all p-.itience, and endure tlie curses 
Of many, for the profit of one patron. 

Put. 1 do conceive the rest. Wiiat is the second 7 

Ivfor. The INlinion of the Suburbs. 

Pul. What hath he 
To do in Constantinople ? 

Mill. I steal in now and then. 
As I am thought useful ; marry, there I am cali'd 
The Squire of Dames, or Servant of ihe Sex, 
And by the allowance of sofne sportful ladies, 
Honour'd with that title. 

Pul. Spare your character, [peer. 

Vou are here deciphered : stand by with your com- 
What is the third? a creature I ne'er heard of: 
The Master of the Manners and the Habit ! 
You have a double office. 

Mast. In my actions 
I make both good; for by my theorems. 
Which your polite and terser gallants practise, 
I re-refine the court*, and civilize 
Their barbarous natures. I have in a table. 
With curious punctuality, set down, 
To a hair's breadth, how low a new-stamp'd courtier 
May vailf to a country gentleman, and by 
Gradation, to his merchant, mercer, draper. 
His linen-man, and tailor. 

Pul. Pray you, discover 
This hidden mystery. 

Mast. If the foresaid courtier 
(As it may chance sometimes) find not his name 
Writ in the citizens' books, with a state hum 
He may salute them after three days' waiting ; 
But, if he owe them money, that he may 
Preserve his credit, let him in policy never 
Appoint a day of payment, so they may hope still: 
But, if he be to take up more, his page 
May attend them at the gate, and usher them 
Into his cellar, and when they are warm d with wine. 
Conduct them to his bedchamber ; and though then 
He be under his barber's hands, as soon as seen, 
He must start up to embrace them, vail thus low ; 

*.^ re-refine the. court,} So the old copy: the modern edi- 
tors \vm\, 1 rtfiiie the court, which destrujs at once the hu- 
mour and the metre. 



-how low a nev)-stamp'd courtier 



May vail to a country i/eiitleman,] i. e. bow; the word 
ucciu's again, in the tame sense, a few lines below. 



Nay, though he call them cousins, 'tis the bettey, 
His dignity no way wrong'd in't. 

Paid. Here's a fine knave ! * 

Pul. Does this rule liold without exception, sirrah. 
For courtiers in general? 

Ma!,t. No, dear madam. 
For one of the last edition ; and for him 
I have composed a dictionary, in which 
He is instructed, how, when, and to whom. 
To be proud or humble; at what times of the year 
He may do a good deed for itself, and thai is 
Writ in dominical letters ; all days else 
Are his own, ai.d of those days the several hours 
Mark'd out, and to what use. 

Pul. Show us your method ; 
I am strangely taken with it. 

Mast. 'Twill deserve 
A pension, I hope. First, a strong cullis 
In his bed, to heighten appetite ; shuttle-cock. 
To keep him in breath when he rises : tennis court! 
Are chargeable, and the riding of great liorses [ones 
'J"oo boisterous for my younjj courtier ; let the old 
I think not of, use it: next, his meditation 
How to court his mistress, and that lie may seem 

witty. 
Let him be furnish 'd with confederate jests 
Between iiim and liw friend, that, on occasion, [garb 
They may vent them mutually : what his pace and 
Must be in the presence ; then the length of his sword 
Tbe fashion of the hilt — what the blade is 
it matters not ; 'twere barbarism to use it, 
Unless to show his strength upon an andiron ; 
?c, t!<e sooner broke the better. 

Pul. How I abuse 
This preiious time ! Projector, I treat first 
Of you and your disciples; you roar out. 
All is the king's, his will above his laws ; 
And that fit tributes are too gentle yokes 
For his poor subjects : whispering in his ear. 
If he would have their fear, no man should dare 
To bring- a salad from his country garden. 
Without the paying gabel* ; kill a hen. 
Without excise : and that if he desire 
To have his children or his servants wear 
Their heads upon their shoulders, you affirm 
In policy 'tis fit the owner should 
Pay for them by the poll ; or, if the prince want 
A present sum, he may command a city 
Impossibilities, and for non-performance. 
Compel it to submit to- any fine 
His officers shall impose. Is this the way 
To make our emperor happy? can the groans 
Of his subjects yield him music ? must his thresholds 
Be wash'd wi-;h widows' and wrong'd orphans' tears, 
Or his power grow contemptible? 

Pr^j. I begin 
To feel myself a rogue again. 

Pul. But you are 
The squire of dames, devoted to the service 
Of gamesome ladies, the hidden mystery 
Discover'd, their close bawd, thy slavisli breath 
Fanning the fire of lust ; the go-between 
This female and that wanton sir ; your art 

-no man should dare 



To bring a aalad from his country yarden, 
V\ ithout the pay in y gabel; iic.J 'this spirit uf iiiipusitioa 
is well touched on by iJonne : 

" shortly, boys shall not play 

At span-counter, or blow-point, bui hall pay 

'loll to some cou-tier." Sat. IV. 



«90 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act I. 



Can blind a jealous husband, and. disguised 

Like a milliner or shoemaker, convey 

A letter in a pantdfle or glove, 

Wiiliont stispicion, nay, at his fable. 

In a case of picktooths ; you instruct them how 

To parley witli their eyes, and make the temple 

A mart of looseness : — to discover all 

Yi>nr subtile brokages, were to teach in public 

Those private practices wliicli are, in justice, 

Severely to be punished. 

Milt. I am cast : 
A jury of my patronesses cannot quit me. 

Fid. \o\i are master of the manners and the habit ; 
Rather the scorn of such as would live men, 
And not, like apes, with servile imitation 
Stuiiy prodigious fashions. Vou keep 
Intelligence abroad, that may instruct 
Our giddy youth at home what new-found fashion 
Is :iow in use, swearing he's most complete 
That first turns monster. Know, villains, I can 

thrust 
This arm into your hearts, strip off the flesh 
That covers your deformilies, and show you 
In your own nakedness. Now, though the law 
Call not your follies death, you are for ever 
Banisii'd my brother's court. — Away with them; 
I will hear no reply. 

[Ereioit Informer, and Officers leith the Projector, 
Miuion of the Suburbs, and Master of the HaM 
ami Manners. 

Enter above Theodosius, Piiilanax, Timantcs, 
CiiiiYSAPius, and Gratianus. 

Paul. What think you now? 

Cle. That I am in a dream ; or that I see 
A second I'allas. 

Pill. These removed, to you 
I clear my brow. Speak without fear, sweet mnid, 
Since, with a mild aspect, and ready ear, 
I sit prepared to hear you. 

Athen. Know, great princess, 
My father, though a pagan, was admired 
For his deep search into those hidden studies, 
Whose knowledge is denied to common men • 
The motion, with the divers operations 
Of the superior bodies, by his long 
And careful observation were made 
Famili.ir to him; all the secret virtues 
Of plants and simples, and in what degree 
They were useful to mankind, he could discourse 

of: 
In a word, conceive him as a prophet honour'd 
In his own country. ]?ut being born a man. 
It lay not in him to defer the hour 
Of his approaching death, though long foretold : 
In this so fatal hour he call'd before him 
His two sons and myself, the dearest pledges 
Lent liim by nature, and with his right hand 
Blessing our several heads, he thus hegan 

Clirq. Mark his attention. 

Phil. Give me leave to maik too. 

Atlien. If I could leave mi; understanding to you, 
It were siiperjiiioiis to make diiison 
Of w'alsoever ftse I can bcqiieaih yon; 
But. to avoid conleiition, I ntL't 
An equal portion oj my possessions 
To you, my sois ; but unto thee, my daughlir. 



My joy, my darling ("pardon me. though I 
Repeat his words), //' my prophetic soul, 
lieudi/ to take her fiiiht, can triilii guess at 
Thy future fate, I leave the* strange as'.urarce 
Of the greatness t' on art horn to. unto ivliich 
Thu brothers shall be proud to pay their service : 

Pant. And all men else, that honour beauty. 

Theo. Umph ! 

Athen. Y'e!, to prepare thee for that certain fortune, 
And that I ma i) from present wants defend thee, 
I leave ten thousand crowns: — which said, being call'd 
To the fellowship of our deities, he expired, 
And with him all remembrance of the charge 
Concerning me, left by him to my brothers. 

Pal. Did they detain your legacy? 

Atlien And still do. 
His ashes were scarce quiet in his urn, 
\Vhen, in deri-ion of my future greatness, 
They thrust me out of do-ors, denying me 
One sliort night's harbour. 

Pnl. Weep not. 

Athen. I desire, ■ 
By your persuasion, or commanding power. 
The restitulii>n of mine own; or that. 
To keep my fr.uhy from temptation. 
In your compassi'>n of me, you would please, 
I, as a handmaid, may be entertain'd 
'I'o do the meanest offices to all such 
As are honour'd in your service. 

Put. Thou art welcome. 
What is thy name? 

Athen. The forlorn Athenais. 

Pul. I'he sweetness of thy innocence strangely 
takes me. [Tu/ces her up, and kisses her. 

Forget ihy brothers' wrongs; for I will be 
In my care a mother, in my love a sister to thee ; 
And, werti it possible thou couldst be won 
To be of our belief • 

Paul. May it please your excellence. 
That is an easy task ; I, though no scholar. 
Dare undertake it ; clear truth cannot want 
Rhetorical persuasions. 

Pul. 'I is a work, 
My lord, will well become you. — Break up the 

court : 
May your endeavours prosper ! 

Paal. Come, mv fair one ; 
I hope, my convert. 

Athen. Never : I will die 
As I was born. 

Paul. Belter you ne'er had been.' [^Exeunt. 

Phil. What does your majesty think ot"? 

The maid's gone. 

Theo. She's wondrous fair, and in her speech 
appear 'd 
Pieces of scholarship. 

Chry. Make use of her learning 
And beauty together ; on my life she will be 

proud 
To be so converted. 

Theo. From foul lust heaven guard me ! 

[Exeunt. 



• /■ Ifave the strange assurance,'] So 

the old copy. The inodi-rii tditors re.i<l — / leave (hce strange 
assurance: but the whole of this beauliful scene is vilelydis 
graced by nuiiiei'oii!i eirurs and omissions iu both the last 
editions. 



Scene I.] 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



191 



ACT II. 



SCENE I.— A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Piiilanax, Timantus, CHnYSAPius, and 
Gratianus. 

Phil. We only talk, when we should do 

Tim. I'll second you ; 
Begin, and when you please. 

Gral. Be constant in it. 

Chri). That resolution which grows cold to-day, 
Will freeze to-morrow. 

Grat. 'Slight, I think she'll keep him 
Her ward for ever, to herself engrossing 
The disposition of aH the favours 
And bounties of the empire. 

CUvif. We, that, by 
The nearness of our service to his person, 
Should raise this man, or pull down that, without 
Her license hardly dare prefer a suit, 
Or if we do, 'tis cross'd, 

Phil. You are troubled for 
Your proper ends.; my aims are high and honest. 
The wrong that's done to majesty I repine at : 
I love the emperor, and 'tis my ambition 
To have him know himself, and to that purpose 
I'll run the hazard of a check. 

Grat. And I 
The loss of my place. 

Tim. I will not come behind, 
Fall what can fall, 

Chrif, Let us put on sad aspects, 
To draw him on ; charge home, we'll fetcb you off. 
Or lie dead by you. 

Enter Theodosius. 

Tlieo. How's this 1 clouds in the chamber. 
And the air clear abroad ! 

Pliil. When you, our sun. 
Obscure your glorious beams, poor we, that borrow 
Our little light from you, cannot but sutler 
A general eclipse. 

Tim. Great sir, 'tis true; 
For, till you please to know and be yourself. 
And freely dare dispose of wiiat's your own. 
Without a warrant, we are fallirig meteors. 
And not fix'd stars. 

Chrxt. The pale-faced moon, that should 
Govern the night, usurps the rule of day. 
And still is at the full in spite of nature. 
And will not know a change. 

Then. Speak you in riddles? 
I am no CEdipus,but your emperor. 
And as such would be instructed. 

Phil. Your command 
Shall be obey'd : till now, I never heard you 
Speak like yourself; and may that Power by which 
Vou are so, strike me dead, if what I shall 
Deliver as a faithful subject to yon. 
Hath root or growth from malice, or base envy 
Of your sister's greatness ! I could honour in her 
A power subordinate to yours ; but not. 
As 'tis, predominant. 

Tim. Is it lit that she, 
In her birth your vassal, should command the knees 
Of such as should not bow but tojourself? 



Grat. She with security walks upon the beads 
Of the nobility ; the multitude, 
As to a deity, offering sacrifice 
For her grace and favour. 

Chry. Her proud feet even wearied 
With the kisses of petitioners. 

Graf. While you. 
To whom alone such reverence is proper, 
Pass unregarded by her. 
Tim. You have not yet 
Been master of one hour of your whole life. 

Chry. Your will and faculties kept in more awe 
Than she can do het own. 
Phil. And as a bondman 
(O let my zeal find grace, and pardon from you, 
That I descend so low), you are design 'd 
To this or that employment, suiting well 
A private man, I grant, but not a prince. 
To be a perfect horseman, or to know 
The words of the chase, or a fair man of arms. 
Or to be able to pierce to the depth. 
Or write a comment on the obscurest poets, 
I grant are ornaments ; but your main scope 
Should be to govern men, to guard your own. 
If not enlarge your empire. 

Chrif. You are built up 
By the curious Ir.itid of nature, to revive 
The memory of Alexander, or by 
A prosperous success in your brave actions, 
'J'o rival ("jesiir. 

Tim. Rouse yourself, and let not 
Your pleasures be a copy of her will. 

Phil. Your jtupilage is past, and manly actions 
Are now expected from you. 

Grat. Do not lose 
Your subjects' hearts. 

Tim. What is't to have the means 
To be mngnificent, and not exercise 
The boundless virtue? 

Grat. You confine yourself 
To that which strict philosophy allows of. 
As if you were a private man. 

Tim. No pomp 
Or glorious shows i>f royalty rendering it 
Both loved and terrible, 

Graf. 'Sli.hi ! you live, as it 
Begets some doubt, whether you have, or not, 
The abilities of a man. 

Chru. The firmament 
Hath not more stars than there are several beauties 
.Ambitious at the height to impart their dear 
And sweetest favours to you. 

Grat. Yet you have not 
Made choice of one, of all the sex, to serve you. 
In a phy?ical way of courtship. 

Theo. But that 1 would not 
Begin the expression of my being a man. 
In blood, or slain the first white lobe I w-ear 
Of absolute power, with a servile imitation 
Of an V t\ rannous habit, my just anger 
Prompts nie to make you, in your suflerings, feel, 
And not in words to instruct you, that the license 
Ot the h^ose and snucy language you now practised 
Hath forfeited your heads. 



19* 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act. II; 



Grat. How's this '. 

Pltil. 1 kno«' not 
What the play may prove, but I assure you that 
I do not like the ])roloo^ue. 

Theo. O the miserable 
Condition of a prince ; who, though he vary 
More shapes than Proteus, in his mind and manners, 
He'cantiot win an universal suffrage 
From the many-headed monster, multitude! 
Like ^sop's foolish frogs, they trample on him 
As a senseless block, if iiis government be easy ; 
And, if he prove a stork, they croak and rail 
Against him as a tyrant. I will put off 
That majesty, of which you think I have 
Nor use nor feeling ; and in arguing with you. 
Convince you with strong proofs of common reason. 
And not with absolute power, against which, 

wretches. 
You are not to dispute. Darf vou, that are 
My creatures, by my prodigal favours fashion'd, 
Presuming on the nearness of your service, 
Set off with my familiar acceptance. 
Condemn my obsequiousness to the wise directions 
Of an incompariible .-ister, whom all parts 
Of our world, that are made happy in the knowledge 
Of her perfections, with wonder gaze on 1 
And yet you, that were only born to eat 
The blessings of our mother earth, that are 
Distant but one degree from beasts (since slaves 
Can claim no larger privilege), that know 
No further than your sensual appetites. 
Or wanton lusts, have taught you, undertake 
To give jour sovereign laws to follow that 
Your ignorance marks out to him ! [Walkt by. 

Grat. How were we 
Abused in our opinion of his temper ! 

Phil. We had forgot 'tis found in holy writ. 
That kings' hearts are inscrutable. 

Tim. I ne'er read it j 
Mv study lies not that way. 

'Phil. 13y his looks, 
The tempest still increases. 

Theo. Am I grown 
So stupid in your judgments, that you dare. 
With su' h security ofler violence 
To sacred majesty ? will you not know 
The lion is a lion though he show not 
His rending paws, or fill the affrighted air 

With the thunder of his roarings? You bless'd 

saints, 
How am 1 trenched on ! Is that temperance 
So famous in your cited Alexander, 
Or Roman Scipio, a crime in me ? 
Cannot I be an emperor, unless 
Your wives and daughters bow to my proud lusts 1 
And, 'cause I ravisii not their fairest buildings 
And fruitful vineyards, or what is dearest. 
From such as are my vassals, must you conclude 
I do not know the awful power and strength 
Of my prerogative? Am I close-handed. 
Because I scatter not among you that 
I must not call mine own ? know, you court-leeches, 
A prince is never so magnificent* 



* — know, you court-leeches, 

A prince is netier 40 iiiauiiiticeiit 

As whim he's tparhiy to enrich, &c.] There is a peculiarity 
in the ii.-e ot' tliis «unl, uliiili cannot have escaped the 
reader's notice. In Massinger it constantly stands for 
munificint, of wliich several instances have already oc- 
iiirred : thus, in The Duke of Milan : 



As when he's sparing to enrich a few 

With the injuries of many. Could your hopes 

So grosslv flatter you, as to believe 

I was born and train'd up as an emperor, only 

In my indulgence to give sanctuary. 

In their unjust jiroceedings, to the rapine 

And avarice of my grooms ? 

Phil. In the true mirror 
Of your perfections, at length we see 
Our own deformities. 

Tim. And not once daring 
To look upon that majesty we now slighted 

C/iry. With our faces thus glued to the earth, we 
beg 

Your gracious pardon. 

Grat. Offering our necks 
To be trod on, as a punishment for our late 
Presumption, and a willing testimony 
Of our subjection. 

Theo. Deserve our mercy 
In your better life hereafter ; you shall find, 
Tliough, in my father's life*, 1 held it madness 
To usurp his power, and in my youth disdain'd not 
To learn from the instructions of my sister, 
I'll make it good to all the world I am 
An emperor ; and even this instant grasp 
The sceptre," my. rich stock of majesty 
Entire, no scruple wasted. 

P//ii. If these tears 
I drop proceed not from my joy to hear this, 
IMay my eyeballs follow them ! 

Tim. I will show myself, 
By your sudden metamorphosis, transform'd 
From what I was. 

Grat. And ne'er presume to ask 
What fits not you to give. 

Tfieo. Move in that sphere, 
And my light witli full beams shall shine upon you. 
Forbear this slavish courtship, 'tis to me 
In a kind idolatrous. 

Phil, Your gracious sister. 

Enter PuLCHEniA, and Servantf. 

Pul. Has he converted her? 
Serv. And, as such, will 
Present her, when vou please. 
Pul. 1 am slad of it. 



" Yet,' not to take 
From others to tive only to myself, 
I will not hinder your magnificence 
To my commanders." Act HI. So. 1. 
Agaio, in The tieneyado : 

" How !il4e a royal merchant, to return 
You great maijnificence." "Act. II. Sc. 4. 
Again, in The Parliament of Love, IJinant upon Novall't 
giving him his purse, exclaims, 

" You are too maynifictnt." Act IV. Sc. 1. 
And in several other places. 

• Thcwyh in my father's life, / held, it madness 
To usurp Ms poxver,] We must not look for any very 
rigid adiierence to dates in these historical dramas; a few 
prominent facts were generally seized on ; and if these were 
distributed among the real actors, it was all the poet aimed 
at, and all his audience expected. At the death of Arcadius, 
Theodosius was a child of seven years old, and was more 
likely to have passed his time in yoiiihfid games with the 
women, than to have thought of dethroning his father. Al 
the period of this scene, he was in his twentieth year. 
Pnlcheria was two or three years older. 

+ Enter Pulcheria, and .Servant.] To the speeches of 
the latter, Mar. is prefixed instead of Serv.; and the going 
out is Exit Mart. There is no name of this kind among 
the dramatis per;on<e : perhaps it was that of the per 
fo riner. 



Scene I] 



THE EMPKRoK OK iHK EAST. 



293 



Command my dresser to adorn her with 
The robes tliHt I gave order for. 

Serv. I shall. 

Pul. And let those precious jewels I took last 
Outof mv cabinet, ift be possible, 
Give lustre to lier beauties ; and, that done, 
Gommvind her to be near us. 

Serv. ' Tis a province 
I willingly embrace. [Exit. 

Pid. I > my dear sir, 
You have for^j^ot your morning task, and therefore, 
With a motiier's love, 1 come to reprehend you ; 
But it shall be tjently. 

Theo. Twill become vou, thouojh 
You said, with reverend duty. Know hereafter, 
If my iiiotlier lived in you, howe'er her son, 
Like \oa she were mv subject. 

Pul. How! 

Then. Put off 
Amazement ; you will find it. Yet I'll hear you 
At distance, as a sister, but no longer 
As a governess, I assure you. 

Griit. This is put home. 

Tim. Beyond our hopes. 

Phil. She stands as if his words 
Had powerful magic in them, 
Thfo. Will you have me < 

Your pupil ever ! the down on my chin 
Confirms I am a man, a man of men, 
The emperor, that knows his strength. 

Pul. Heaven grant 
You know it not too soon ! 

Theo. Let it suffice 
My wardship's out. If your design concerns us 
As a man, and not ahoy, with our allowance 
You may deliver it. 

Pul. A strange alteration ! 
But I will not contend. Be as you wish, sir. 
Your own disposer ; uncompell'd I cancel 
All bonds of my authority. [^Kneels. 

Then. You in this 
Pay your due homage, which perform 'd, I thus 
Embrace you as a sister ; [Haines her.] no way 

doubting 
Your vigilance for my safety as my honour; 
And wiiat you now come to impart, I rest 
Most confident, points at one of them. • 

Pul. At both ; 
And not alone the present, but the future 
Tranquillity of your mind ; since in the choice 
Of her you are to heat with holy fires. 
And make the consort of your royal bed. 
The certain means of glorious succession. 
With the true happiness of our human being, 
Are wholly comprehended. 

Theo. How! a wife? 
Shall I become a votary to Hymen, 
Before my youth hath sacrificed to Venus? 
'Tis something with the soonest: — yet, to shovr. 
In things indifferent, I am not averse 
To your wise counsels, let me first survey 
Those beauties, that, in being a prince, I know 
Are rivals for me. You will not confine me 
To your election ; I must see, dear sister. 
With mine own eyes. 

Pul. 'Tis fit, sir. Yet in this, 
You may please to consider, absolute princes 
Have, or should have, in policy, less free will 
Than such as are their vassals : for, you must, 
As you are an emperor in this high business 
22 



\Veit;h with due providence, with whom allianco 
May be most useful for the preservation 
Or increase of your empire. 

Theo. I approve not 
Such compositions for our moral ends. 
In what is in itself divine, nay, more, 
Decreed in heaven. Yet, if our neighbour princes. 
Ambitious of such nearness, shall |)resent 
Their dearest pledges to me (ever reserving 
The raution of mine own content), I wdl nc* 
Contemn their courteous offers. 

Pill. Brmg in the pictures. 

[^Twft pictures brought in. 

Theo. Must I then judge the substances by the 
shadows ? 
The painiers are most envious, it' they want 
Good colours for preferment : virtuous ladies 
Love tins way to be flattered, and accuse 
The w.irkman of detraction, if he had tiot 
Some grace they cannot truly call their own. 
Is't not so, Gratiaiius ? you may challenge 
Some in erest in the science. 

Graf. A pretender 
To the art, I truly honour and subscriba 
To your majesty's opinion, 

Theo. Let me see [Readt. 

Cleuiilhe, (laughter to the king of Epire, 
j£titis sute, the fourteenth : ripe enough. 
And forward too, I assure you. Let me examine 
The svmmetiies. If statuaries could 
By the foot of Hercules set down punctually 
His whole dimensions, and the counteiMnce be 
The index of the mind, this may instruct tne, 
With the aids of that I've read touching this sub- 
ject. 
What she is inward. The colour of her hair. 
If it he, as this does promise, pale and fanit. 
And not a glistering yhite : lier brow, so so ; 
The circles of her sight, too much contracted ; — 
Juno's lair cow-eyes by old Homer are 
Commeiulod to their merit* : here's a sharp frost, 
III the tip of her nose, which, by the length, assures me 
Of storms at midnight, if I fail to pay her 
The tribute she expects. I like her not : 
What is the other f 

Chry. How hath he commenced 
Doctor in this so sweet and secret art, 
Without our knov.-ledgef? 

Tim. Some of his forward pages 
Have robbed us of the honour. 



* Junn's fair cow-eyes 6// old Homer are 

Commended to their merit:] Massuiger seems pleased 
wiiU this veisiiiii ot gowTTie, 'oi lie lias it hi oilier places. 
It is liciwever so uncoiilli a translation, that, to use the lan- 
guage of the author's time, the ladies, I suspect, " conned 
him litlle thanks for it." Homer's peace is easily made : 
we may venture to affirm thai in applying the epilhet lo his 
goddess, he thought as litlle of likening her e\i-5 to a cow's, 
as to those of any odier animal : he iiiendy meant large or 
rather/M/Zf^es.- 'O/ij/pog £i/("£($oe3'at gsAo/in'Of a)£ 
Eujrav o^S'aXjuot ry Hp^ /caXoi n neyaXoi ti, 
BOQniN avTTiv tKaXtcre. Liban. So the word 

should be trani-lated, and si>, indeed, it is tr.inslatcd by 

Beanmont and Fletcher in The Two !\loble Kinsmen. 
+ Chry. How hath he commence<l .<% 

Doctor in this so Sfneet and tecret art ; 

H-'itkout our knowledge .'] Thus Fletcher: 

" Come, doctor Andiew, viMwat disputatinn 

Thou .shall commence in the cellar." 'I'he IClder Brother. 

This fondness for the introduction of college language k»t 

bten already noticed. 



f94 



THE EMPEROR OF THE ESAT. 



[Act II. 



Phil. No such matter 
He has the theory only, not the practick*. 

Theo. [reads.] Ainasia, sister to the Duke of Athens ; 
Her age eighteen, descended lineally 
From Theseus, ns hii her pedigree 
Will he made apparent. Of liis lusty kindred, 
And lose so much time ! 'tis strange ! — as I live, 
A philosophical aspect ; there is [she hath 

More wit than beauty in her face ; and when 
r court her, it must be in tropes, and figures, 
Or slie will cry, Absurdf ! she will have her 

elenchsl 
To cut off any fallacy I can hope 
To put upon her, and expect I should 
Ever conclude in syllogisms, and those true ones 
In parte et toto ; or she'll tire me with 
Her tedious elocutions in the praise of 
'J'he increase of generation, for which 
Alone, the sport, in her morality, 
Is good and lawful, and to be often practised 
For fear of missing. Fie on't ! let the race 
Of Theseus be match'd with Aristotle's: 
I'll none of her. 

Pul. You are curious in your choice, sir, 
.\nd hard to please ; yet, if that your consent 
iMav give authority to it, I'll present you 
With one that, if her birth and fortunes answer 
The rarities^ of her body and her mind. 
Detraction durst not tax her. 

Theo. Let me see her. 
Though wanting those additions, which we can 
Supply from our own store : it is in us 
To make men rich and noble ; but to give 
Legitimate shapes and virtues does belong 
To tlie great Creator of them, to whose bounties 
Alone 'tis proper, and in this disdains 
An emperor for his rival. 

Pul. I applaud 
I'liis fit acknowledgment; since princes then 
Grow less than common men, ^'hen they contend 
With him, by whom they are so. 

Enter Paulinus, Cleok, an<{ Athemais richly habited. 

Theo. I confess it. 



• He has the theory only, not the practick.] Mr. M. 
Mason xeaAs. practice. Allilie copies that I have consulted, 
and I have consulted several, concur in giving practick; 
and tills was tlie language of Massinger's age. 

Or «/«? will cry, Absurd !] Tlieodosius is here got into 
his logical phraseology. Absurde facts, or ahturdecoUiyis, is 
a term used in disputation, when fal>e conclusions are drawn 
from the opponent's premises. The expression occurs in 
'J'he Elder Brother : " Do they (i. e. " academics") 

" Do ihey know anything; but a tired hackney? 

And th^n they cry. Absurd.' as the horse understood them." 
This Tlieobald calls nonsense : it is, however,the aft-vurdeyiici* 
of tlie scliDols ; and is meant to riilicnlc thai perverse and 
awkward pedaiitry which applies the language of art to the 
(rif1iii<: occurrences of common lite. 

•She will have her clenclis] So the old copy : , poor 
Coxeler, who seems to have forgotten his logick, as well as 
his Greek, not knowing what to make of this word, altered 
it to clenches! the most unfortunate term that he could have 
ehosen. Mr. M. Mason, very much to the credit of his 
" Hccuracy," continued the blunder, of course; though how 
a clench, of which llie properly is to J!x or confirm an ar- 
^nineiit, is to destroy it, he did not think proper to enquire. 
Elench (from fXiyy^oj) is a sophistical refutation of a po- 
sition maiiitaiiii'd l>y an opponent. 

< IP'ith one that, if her birth and fortune answer 

The rarities, &<»l So read the old copies, and so reads 
Coxeter : for art«eer Mr M. Mason, to spoil a prctly pas- 
sage, chooses t'l print lamuer'd! but indeed he has cor- 
nipted all this Ecene ; in ihe next speech, for our own ttore, 
ha» our store, wliich uUerly subverts the metre. 



Pul. Not to hold you in suspence, behold the 
virgin, 
Rich in her natural beauties, no way borrowing 
The adulterate aids of art. Peruse her better ; 
She's worth your serious view. 

Phil. 1 am amazed too : 
I never saw her equal. 

Grat. How his eye 
Is fix'd upon her ! 

Tim. And, as she were a fort 
He'd suddenly surprise, he measures her 
From the bases to the battlements. 

Chry. Ha ! now I view her better, 
I know her ; 'tis the maid that not long sine* 
Was a petitioner ; her bravery 
So alters her, I had forgot her face 

Phil. So has the emperor. 

Paul. She holds out jret, 
And yields not to the assault. 

Cle. Site's strongly guarded » 
In her virgin blushes. 

Paul. When you know, fair creature, 
It is the emperor that honours you 
With such a strict survey of your sweet parts. 
In thankfulness you cannot but return 
Due reverence for the favour. 

Athen. I was lost 
In my astonishment at the glorious object, 
And yet rest doubtful whether he expects, 
Being more than man, my adoration, 
Since sure there is divinity about him : 
Or will rest satisfied, if my humble knees 
In duty thus bow to him. 

Theo. Ha ! it speaks. 

Pul. She is no statue, sir. 

Theo. Suppose her one. 
And that she had nor organs, voice, nor he&t. 
Most willingly I would resign my empire. 
So it might be to aftertimes recorded 
That I %vas her Pygmalion ; though like him, 
I doted on my workmanship, without hope too 
Of having Cytherea so propitious 
To my vows or sacrifice, in her compassion 
To give it life or motion. 

Pal. Pray you, be not rapt so, 
Nor borrow from imaginary fiction 
Impossible aids: she's flesh and blood, I assure yoii.: 
And if you please to honour her in the trial. 
And be your own security, as you'll find 
I fable not, she comes in a noble way 
To be at your devotion. 

C/iri/. "J'is the maid 
I oft'er'd to your highness; her changed sLa{w 
Conceal'd her from you. 

Theo. At the first I knew her. 
And a second firebrand Cupid brings, to kindle 
RIy flames almost put out: I am too cold, 
And play with opportunity. — May I taste then 
The nectar of her lip?— [Ki'ises her.] — I do not 

give it 
The praise it merits: antiquity is too poor 
To help me with a simile to express her : ' 
Let me drink often from this living spring,' 
To nourish new invention. 

PuL Uo not surfeit 
fn over-greedily devouring that 
Which may without satiety feast you often. 
From the moderation in receiving them, 
The choicest viands do continue pleasing 
To the most curious palates. If you think her 



SctVE I.l 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



«95 



Wnrfli vour cmbnipps. -.ind the sovereig^n title 

Oftlie Cirenian Kmpress 

Theo. U ! how iiiucli you .sin. 
Only to doubt it; tlie possession of her 
Makes all iliat was before most precious to me. 
Common and chea)i: in this you've shown yourself 
A provident protectress. I already 
Grow weary of tlie absolute CL,mmand 
Of mj' so numerous subjects, and desire 
No sovereignty but here, and write down gladly 
A j)eriod to my wishes. 

Put. Yei, before 
It be '00 late, consider her condition ; 
Her fatlier was a pagan, she herself 
A new-converted Christian. 

'I hen. Let nie know 
The man to whose religious means I owe 
So great a debt. 

Piiul. You are advanced too high, sir. 
To acknowledge a behold ingness ; 'tis discharged. 
And I beyond my hopes rewarded, if 
My service please your majesty. 

Theo. Take this pledge 
Of our assured love. Are there none here 
Have suits to prt-fer ? on such a day as this 

My bounty's without limit. O my dearest! 

I will not hear thee speak ; whatever in 
Thy thoughts is apprehended, I grant freely: 
Thou wouldst plead thy unw'orthiness. By thyself. 
The magazine of felicity, in thy lowness 
Our eastern queens, at their full height, bow to thee. 
And are, in their best trim, thy foils and sliddows ! 
Excuse the violence of my love, which cannot 
Admit the least delay. Command the patriarch 
Willi speed to do his holy office for us. 

That, « hfn we are made one 

Put. V'ou must forbear, sir ; 
She is not yet baptized. 
Theo. In the sau^e hour 



In which she is confirmed in our faith. 
We mufuidly will i-ive away each other. 
And both be gainers ; we'll hear no reply 
That may divert us. On. 

Pill. You may hereafter 
Please to remember to w hose furtherance 
You owe this height of happiness. 

Allien. As I was 
Your creature when I first pe'.ition'd you, 
I will continue so, and you shall find me. 
Though an empress, still your servant. 

[All go off* but Pkitanax GratiattU$, and 
Timantus. 

Grat. Here's a marriage 
Made up o' t!ie sudden I 

Phil. 1 repine tiot at 
Tho fair maid's fortune, though I fear the princess 
Hiid some peculiar end in't. 

Tim. Who's so simple 
Only to doubt it? 

Grat. It is too apparent ; 
She hath preferr'd a creature of her own, 
By whose means she may still keep to herself 
The government of the empire. 

Tim. Whereas, if 
The emperor had espoused some neighbour queen, 
Pulcheria, with all her v/isdom, could not 
Keep her pre-eminence. 

Phil. Be it as jt will, 
'Tis not now to be alter'd. Heaven, I say. 
Turn all to the best ! 

Grat. Are we come to praying again 1 

Phil. Leave thy profaneness. 

Grat. Would it would leave mef!' 
I am sure 1 thrive not by it. 

Tim. Come to the leinple. 

Grat. Even where you will — I know not what to 
think on't. [Exeunt. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I.— ^ Boom in the Palace. 
Enter Pauunus and Philanax. 

Paul. Nor this, nor the age before us, ever 
look'd on 
The like solemnity. 

Phil. A sudden fever 
Ke(it me at home. Pray you, my lord, acquaint me 
With the particulars. 

Paul. You may presume 
No pomp nor ceremony could be wanting, 
Where there was privilege to command, and means 
To cherish rare inventions. 

Phil. I believe it; 
But the sum of all in brief. 

Paul. Fray you, so take it: 
Fair Athenais, not long since a suitor, 
And almost in her hopes forsaken, first 
Was christen 'd, and the emperor's mother's name, 
Jludocia, as he will'd, imposed upon her; 
Pulcheria, "the ever-maichless princess, 
Assisted by her revereiid aunt Maria, 
Her godmothers. 



Phil. And who the masculine witness^? 

Puid. At the new empress' suit, 1 had the honour ; 
For whiih I must everser^e her. 

Phil, 'Twas a grace 
With justice you may boast of. 



• All ffo off but Philanax, &c.] So the oI<l copies. Coxetrr, 
to let " liis reiiding ni.<\ wiiiiiig appear," Iraiislatea it iiit* 
Latin an<l piiiits. AllKXtt hut /-'Ai/unof , &c., and the niw4 
correct of eililors follows liini ! 

t H'ould it would leave me '.] So the old copy : the 
modern editors, without regard to sense or metre, read, 
H'ould it leave me 

% lliil. And who the masculine witness t And whu the 
male sponior ? So tlie word is frequently used by ou» 
aulhor and I is contemporaries, in ridicule, as it should seeiu« 
of the puritans. Thus Jonson : 

" And that, as puritans at b.iptism do. 
Thou art the fatlier and the witness too." Epig. 4, 
Again : 

Quar. His Christian-name is Zealof-lhc-Iaod T 

J.it. Yes, sir, Zcal-of-the-laml Busy. 

li'inw. Howl what a name's there! 

Lit. O, they have all such names, sir; he was toitneu lU 
Win, here,— iliey will not be called yodfathers. 

Bartholomew fair. 



£96 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act III. 



Paul, The marriage foUow'il ; 
And, as 'tis saiil, the emperor made hold 
To turn the day to ninlit ; (or lo bed they went 
As soon as tliey had dined, and there are wagers 
Laid by some merrv lords, lie iialh already 
Bes:ot a boy upon her. 

Phil. Tliat is yet 
To be determined of; but I am certain 
A prince, so soon in bis disposition alter'd. 
Was never heard nor read of. 

Paul. But of late, 
Fru£;al and sparing, now nor bounds nor limits 
To his maErnificent bounties, lie atfirm'd, 
Havino' rec■ei^ed more blessina;s by his empress 
Than he coidd liope, in thankfulness to heaven 
He cannot be too pro<lii'al to others. 
Wliatever's offer'd to his royal liand, 
He sipfns without perusing it. 

Phil. I am iiere 
Enjoin'd to free all such as lie fir debt, 
The creditors to be paid out of hi- coft'ers. 

Paul. And I all malefactcjrs that are not 
Convicted or fortreason or Ibul murder; 
Such only are excepted. 

PliiL 'I'is a rare clemency ! 

Paul. Which we must not dispute, but put in 
practice. \_Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — Another Poom in iha same, 

Lnvd Music. .'^h'Uts wiihin: Heaven preserve the 
Emperor! Heaven bless the Empress! Tlieti 
enter in Mate, the Patriarch, CnnvsAi-ius, Pauii- 

NUS, THhODOSIUS, EUDOCIA, PlLCnERIA ; AnCADIA 

and Fi.ACCii LA, he,iriug uj) Eudocia's train ; followed 
by Piiii.ANAX, GiiATiANUS, uvd TiJiANius. Several 
Suitors present petitions to the Emperor, which he 
seals. 

Paul. Sir, by your own rules of | hilosophy, 
Vou know things violent last not. Hoyal bi>unties 
Are great and gracious, while they are dispensed, 
With moderation ; but, when their excess 
'" "ivinj giant-bulks to others, takes from 
The prince's just proportion, they lose 
The name of virtues, and, their natures changed, 
Grow the most dangerous vices. 

Theo. In this, sister, 
Your wisdom is not circular*; th^y that sow 
In narrow bounds, cannot expect in reason 
A crop beyond tlieir ventuies : what I do 
Disperse, I lend, and will with usury 
Return unto my heap. I only then 
Am ricli and happy (though my coft'ers sound 
With emptiness) when my glad subjects feel 
Their plenty and felicity is my gift ; 
And they will find, when thev with cheerfulness 
Supply not my defects, I being the stomach 
To the ])olitic body of the state, the limbs 
Grow suddenly faint and feeble : I could urge 
Proofs of more fineness in their shape and language. 
But none of greater strength.— iJissuade me not ; 
What we will, we will do ; yet, to assure you 
Your care does not offend us, for an hour 
Be happy in the converse of my best 
And dearest comfort. May you please to license 
My privacy some few minutes ? 



• Thco. /« this, sister, 

Your wisdom is not circular ;] A pccl.inlic expression 
rorthy ol Johnson : Your wisdom is twtj'ull and per/ect. 



End, License, sir ! 
I have no will but is derived from yours. 
And that still waits upon vou ; nor can 1 
]5e left with such security with any 
As with the gracious princess, who receives 
Addition, thous;h she he all excellence, 
In being styled your sister. 

Then. O sweet creature ! 
Let me be censured fond, and too indulgent, 
Nay, though they say uxorious, 1 care not — 
Her love and sweet humility exact 
A tribute far above my power to pay 
Her matchless goodness. Forward. 

[/■/oi/ris'j. Exeunt all hut Pulcheria, Eudocia, 
Arcadia, and Flaccilla.^ 

Put. Now you find 
Your dying father's propbecv, that foretold 
Your present greatness, to the full accomplish'd. 
For the poor aids and furtherance I lent you 
I willingly forget. 

Eud. Even that binds me 
To a more strict remembrance of the favour; 
Nor shall vou, from my foul ingr.ftitude. 
In any circumstance, ever find cause 
To upbraid me with your benefit. 

P((/. 1 believe so. 
Pray you yi ve us leave : — [Arcadia and Flaccilla walk 

iiiide.]— Whal now I must deliver 
Under the deepest seal of secrecy. 
Though it be for your good, will give assurance 
Of what is look'd for, if you not alone 
Hear, but obey my counsels. 

Eud. 'i'hey must be 
Of a strange nature, if with zealous speed 
I put them not in practice. 

Pal. 'Twere impertinence 
To dwell on circumstances, since the wound 
Requires a sudden cure ; especially 
Since you, that m-e the happy instrument 
Elected to it, though young, in your judgment 
Write far above your years, and may instruct 
Such as are more experienced. 

Eud. Gootl madam. 
In this 1 must oppose you : I am well 
Acquainted with my weakness, and it will not 
Become your wisdom, by which I am raised 
"'J"o this titulary height, that should correct 
The pride and overweening of my fortune. 
To play the parasite to it, in ascribing 
'i'hat merit to me, unto which I can 
I'retend no interest : pray you, excuse 
My bold simplicity, and to my weight 
Design me where you please, and you shall find, 
In my obedience, 1 am still yotir creature. 

Put. 'lis nobly answer'd, and I glory in 
The building I have raised : go on, sweet lady. 
In this your virtuous progress : but to the point. 
You know, nor do I envy it, you have 
Acquired that power which, not long since was mine, 
In governing the emperor, and must use 
The strength you hold in.the heart of his affections, 
For his private, as the public preservation. 
To which there is no greater enemy 
Than his exorbitant prodigality, 
Howe'er his sycophants and flatterers call it 
Royal magnificence ; and though you* may 

and though yoii may} So the old copies, 



and riglitly : the modern editors read— ond thouyli he may , 
which iibsolutfly destroys the author's meaning. 



Scene II.] 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



297 



L'rge what's done for your honour must not be 
(.'urij'd (ir eoutroH'il by vou, you cannot in 
Your wi>xiom hut conceive, if that tlie torrent 
Of his violent bounties be not stopp'd or lessen'd, 
]t will |irove most |iernicious. Therefore, madam, 
Since 'tis your duty, as you are his wife. 
To give him saving counsels, and in bein^ 
Almost his idol, may command him to 
Take anv shape you please, with a powerful hand 
To stop him in his precij)ice to ruiu 

Kuil. Avert it, lieaven ! 

Put. lieaven is most gracious to you, 
In choosing you to be tbe instrument 
Of such a [lious work. Vou see he signs 
What suit soever is preferr'd, not once 
Enquiring what it is, yielding himself 
A prey to all ; 1 would, therefore, have vou, lady. 
As I know vou will, to advise him, or command him, 
As be would reaj) the plenty of your favours, 
To use more moderation in bis bounties; 
And that, before be gives, he would consider 
The what, to whom, and wherefore. 

Eud. Do you think 
Such arrogance, or usurpation rather, 
Of what is proper and peculiar 
To every jirivate husbiind, and much more 
To liim, an emperor, can rank with the obedience 
And duty of a wife? Are we appointed 
In our creation (let me reason with you) 
'J'o rule, or to obey '! or, 'cause he loves me 
With a kind impotence, must I tyrannize 
Over his weakness, or abuse the strength 
With which lie arms me, to his wrong! or, like 
A p;ostituted creature, iiierctiaiidize 
Our mutual delight lor hire, or to 
Serve mine own sordid ends ! In vulgar nuptials 
Priority is exploded, though iheie be 
A difference in the |iarlies ; and shall I, 
His vassal, from obscurity raised by him 
To this so eminent light, jiresume t" a]>point him 
To do, or not to do, this or that? \\ hen wives 
Are well accommoilated by their husbands 
With all things both for use and ornament. 
Let them fix there, and never dare to question 
Their \\ ills or actions : for myself, 1 vow. 
Though now my lord would rashly give away 
His s-eptre and imperial diadem. 
Or if there could be any thing more precious, 
I would not cross it: — but 1 know this is 
Hut a trial of my tem])er, and as such 
I do receive it ; or, il 't be otherwise. 
You are so subtle in your aryumeiiis, 
I dare not stay to hear them. [^Offers to retire. 

Put. Is it even so ? 
I have ])ower o'er these yet, and coinmand their stay, 
To hearken nearer to me. 

Arcail. We are charged 
By the emjieror, our brother, to attend 
The eiMjiress service. 

FLtc. Vou are too mortified, sister 
(With reverence I speak it), for young ladies 
To kee]) your company. 1 am so tired 
With your te<iious exhortations, doctrines, uses. 
Of your religious morality*. 



/ am sn tired 



That, for my health's sake, I must take the freedom 
To enjoy a little of those pretty* pleasures 
That 1 was born to. 

Arcud. When I come to your years, 
I'll do as you do ; but, till then, with your pardon, 
I'll lose no more time. I have not learn'd to dance 

yet. 
Nor sing, but holy hymns, and those to vile tunea 

too ; 
Nor to discourse but of schoolmen's opinions. 
How shall I answer to my huitors, since, I hope. 
Ere long I shall have many, without practice 
To write and speak, something that's not derived 
From the fathers of philosophy ? 

FIkc. We shall shame 
Our breeding, sister, if we should go on thus. 

Arcud. ' I'ls fir your credit that we study 
How to converse with men ; women with womea 
Yields but a barren argument. 

Fl(ir. She frowns 

But you'll protect us, madam? 

End. Yes, and love 
Your sweet simplicity. 

Arcad. All young girls are so, 
Till they know tbe way of itf. 

Fliic. I5ut, when we are enter'd, 
We shall on a good round pace. 

Eud. I'll leave you, madam. 

Arcad. And we our duties with you. 

[Ere'iid Eudo.-ia, Arcadia, and Flaccilla. 

Put. On all hands 
Thus slighted ! no way left? Am I grown stupid 
In my invention? can I make no use 
Of tlie Emperor's bounties? Now 'tis thought: — 
within there ! 

Entei- an Attendant. 

Alt. IMadam. 

Pul. It shall be so :— nearer ? your ear. 
— Draw a jietition to this end. 

Ati. Besides 
The danger to prefer it, I believe 
'T«ill ne'er be granted. 

Pul. How's tins ! are you grown, 
From a servant my director ? let me hear 
No more of this. Dispntch ; lEitt Attendant.'] Ill 

master him 
At his own weapon. 



]J'itb ynur tcdiiiits rihiirliilions, (IdCliines, iiscf. 
Of yimr reliyutua morality,] 'I'lie-e lints st.ind thus 
Coxttir «i:<l M. Mason : 

1 am so tired 



M'ilh your tedious exhortations, doctrines. 
Uses of your rfiiyious morality 
To say ni.lliiiig ot llu- UH.il disre^ani of metre, it is manifest 
thai Ilif sense was alti><;etlieroverl<ioker;. Uses, \Wiich tliey 
connect witli tlie following worils, is a di'tincl expression, 
adoptecl, by oni old dramatists, from the puritans, who iisn- 
salls divided their di>coiirjes into ductrine.i and uses; by 
the foinier of whiih lliey meant the explanation of llieif 
subject, and by ihe laiter, the practical inferences drawn 
from it. Thus, in The Ordinary, by Cariw right: Andrew 
iiays : 

" Here's no proofs. 
No doctrines, nor no vses ; tutor, I 
\Vonlil fain learn some religion " 
And in 'the M nyneiic Lady , by Jonson : 
"The parson has an edify ing >loinach. 
And a pei>uadin« palate, like his name; 
He liaih begun three draughts of sack in doctrines. 
And four in uses." 
* To enjoy a little of those pretty pleasures] "''*''*• 
which completes the verse, is not to be found in Mr. M. 
Mason. 

t Arcad. All ynuni; yirls are SO. 

•Till they know the way of it.] i. e. simple. The?e two 
lines, willioiil which the next speech cannot be understood are 
wlioUyomilted in ihe " coiTe< test of all edinons," and se 
vera! other pas^a<;es mis.rably mangled and corrupted, both 
in the printing and pointing. 



t98 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



f Acrr III 



Eitttr TiiEODOSius, Paumnus*. Phslanax, Timan- 

TUS, and GUATIAKUS. 

Theo. Let me understand it, 
If yet there be aught wanting that may perfect 
A general happiness. 

Puul. Tlie peo])le's joys 
In seas of atcl.imations flow in. 
To wait on yours. 

Phil. Tlieir love with bounty levied, ' 
Is a sure guard : obedience fotcea Uom fear, 
Paper foriificatiou, which, in danger, 
Will yield to the impression of a i-eed, 
Or of itself (all off. 

Theo. 'I'riie, Pliilanax ; 
And by that certain compass we resolve 
To steer our hark of government. 

Re-enter Attendant with the petition. 

Put. 'Tis well. 

Theo. JMy dearest and my all-deserving sister 
As a jietitioner kneel ! It must not be. 
Pray you, rise ; alihough your suit were half my 

empire, 
'Tig freely granted. 

Put. Your alacrity 
To give hath made a beggar; yet, before 
My suit is by your sacred hand and seal 
Confirm'd, 'tis necessary you peruse 
Th« sum of my request. 

Theo. We will not wrong 
Your judgment in conceiving what 'tis fit 
For you to ask, and us to grant, so much, 
As to proceed with caution ; give me my signet : 
With conlidence I sign it, and here vow 
By my father's soul, butf with your free consent. 
It is irrevocable. 

Tim. VV hat if she now, 
Calling to memory how often we 
Have cross'd her government, in revenge hath made 
Petition f r our heads? 

Grat. They must even off then ; 
No ransoine can redeem us. 

Theo. Let those jewels 
So highly rated by the Persiiin merchants, 
Be bouj;ht, and, as a sacrifice from us. 
Presented to Eudocia, she being only 
\\ orihy to wear them. 1 am angry with 
Tile unresistible necessity 
Of my iccasions and important cares, 
1 hat so luDg keep mc fron^ her. 

l^Eieimi Theodoiiiis, PauUnus, Philanax, 
Timantus, and Gratianui. 

Pul. Go to the enijiress, 
And tell her, on the sudden 1 am sick. 
And do desire the comfort of a visit, 
It she please to vouchsafe it. From me use 
Your humblest hmgiiage— [E^jt Attrndant.] but, 

when once 1 have lier 
In my possession, I will rise and speak 
In a higher strain : say it raise storms, no matter ; 
Fools judge hy the event, my ends are honest. 

Eiif. 

• Enter Theodosius. Paulinus, &c.\ All tlie ropies read. 
Enter Tlicoilosius, Favorinus, &c.; but as tliis Kavorimis 
appears not iu I lie list ol' drajiiatis personii.', nor in any 
itlK-r p.irt of the play, I have little doubt but tliat it is a 
misprint for Paulinas, and have legidated the entrance ac- 
cordin|;ly. 

t hu\.wUh your free consent. 

It it irrevoeable.'i i. e. except, tmle.'n with your free con- 
tent, &c. 



SCl'^NE 111. — Another Hoom in the some. 
Enter Theodosius, 'J'i.mamtus, ami Ph;i,anax. 

Theo. What is become of her? Can she, thai 
carries 
Such glorious excellence of light about her. 
Be any where conceal'd ? 

Phil. We have sought her lodgins:s. 
And all we can learn I'rom the servants, is, 
She, by your majesty's si:iters waited oti, 
'i'lie attendance of her other officers. 
By her express command, denied 

Theo. Forbear 
Imjjertinent circumstances, — whither went she? 
speak. 

Phil. As they sjuess, to the laui'el grove. 

Tneo. So sLglitly guardeil ! 
What an eartlnpiaKe I feel in me ! and, but that 
Religion assures the contrary, 
The poets' dreams of lustful fauns and satvrs 
Would make me fear I know not what. 

Enter Paulinus". 

Paul. I have found her. 
An it please your majesty. 

Theo. \es, it doth please me . 
But why return'd without her? 

Paul. As she maile 
Her speediest approaches to your presence, 
A servant of the princess's, Pulcheria, 
Encounter'd her : wiiat 'twas he wliis])er'd to her 
I am ignorant : but hearing it, she started, 
And will'd me to exciis;' her absence from you 
'J'he third part of an hour. 

Theo. In this she takes 
So much of my IWV from me ; yet, I'll bear it 
With what patience 1 miy, siii«e 'tis her ple.isure. 
Go back, my good Paulinust.^i'ci entreat ber 
Mot to exceed a minute. 

Tim. Here's strange fondness ! [E.ienni. 



SCENE IV. — Another lioom in the same. 
Enter PuLCHKniA a^d Servants. 

Pul, You are certain she will come ? 

1 Serv. She is already 
Enter'd your outward lodgings. 

Pal. No train witli her? 

1 Serv. Your excellence' sisters only. 

Pul. 'Jis'the better. 
See the doors strongly guarded, and deny 
Access to all, but with our special license ; 
Why dost tliou stav ? show vour obedience. 
Your wisdom now is useless. [ETCunt Servantt, 

Entfr Eudocia, Aucadia, and Flaccilla. 

Flac. She is sick, sure. 
Or, in fit reverence to your majesty, 
She had waited you at the door. 



* Enter Paulinus] So the old copies. The modern editors 
(it is inipossible to s.ty why) read, enter Favorinus, tlioiigb 
the servant, a little below, says, 

"The piince Paulinus, madam. 
Sent from the emperor," &c. 

^ Go back, my good Paulinus, tioxelerand M'. Mason, iu 
conse(|nence of Iheir absurd depailure from the old copioj 
and substitution of one n.ime for another, are obliiicd 10 
omit yood, and read. Go back, my Favorinus t J*udel, 
yuAet. 



"Scene IV. 



Tlir, KMPEROK OF THE EAST. 



«9J 



Arcad. 'Twould liardiv be [Pnlcheria walking hif. 
Excused, in civil manners, to lier e(]ual : 
But with more difficulty to you, tliat are 
So far above her. 

End. Not in her opinion ; 
She liath been too long accustom 'd to command. 
To acknowledge a superior. 

Arcad. 'I'l)ere she walks. 

Flue, li f,ht\ be not sick of the suUens, I see not 
The least infirmity in iier. 

End. This is stranj;e ! 

Arcad. 0[ien your eyes ; the empress. 

Pul. Reiich that chair : 
Now, sitting thus at distance, J '11 vouchsafe 
To look upon her. 

.■tread, (low, sister ! pray you, awake; 
Are vou in your wils? 

Flac. Grani, heaven, your too much learning 
Does not conclude in madness ! 

End. You entreated 
A visit from me. 

Pill. True, niv servant used 
Such language ; but now, as a mistress, I 
Command vour service. 

Eud. Service ! 

Arcad. She's stark mad, sure. 

PuL. You'll find I can dispose of what's mine own. 
Without a guardian. 

Eud. Follow me. — I will see you 
When your frantic fit is o'er. — 1 do begin 
To be of your belief. 

Pul. It will deceive you. 
Thou slialt not stir from hence : — thus, as mine own, 
I seize upon thee. 

Flac. ilelp, help I violence 
Offer'd to the empress' person ! 

Pid. "J"is in vain : 
She was an empress once, but, by my gift ; 
Which being abused, I recall my grant. 
You are read in story •, call to your remembrance 
What the yreat Hector's mother, Hecuba, 
Was to Ulvsses, Ilium sack'd. 

Eud. A slave. 

Pul. To me thou art so. 

Ei'd. Wonder and amazement 
Quite overwhelm me : how am I transform'd ? 
How have I lost my liberty? [Knocking within, 

Pul. Thou shalt know 
Too soon no doubt. 

Enter a Servant. 

Who's that, that with such rudeness 
Beats at the door ? 

Serv. The prince Paulinus, madam ; 
Sent from the emperor, to attend upon 
The gracious empress. 

Arcad And who is your slave now ? 

Flac. Sister, repent in time, and beg a pardon 
or your presumption. 

Pul. It is resolved : 
From me return this answer to Paulinus, 
She shall not come ; she's mine ; the emperor hath 
No interest in her. [Kiit Servant. 

Eud. Whatsoe'er I am, 
YoTj lake not from vour powet o'er me, to yield 
A reason for this usage. 

Pul. Though my will is 
Suflttcient, to add to tliy affliction. 
Know, wretched thing, 'tis not thy fate*, but folly. 
Hath made thee what thou art ; 'tis some delight 



To urge my merits to one so ungrateful ; 

'i'herefore with horror hear it. When thou wert 

Thrust, as a stranger, from thy father's house, 

Exposed to all calamities that want 

Could throw npon thee, thine own brothers' scorn, 

And in thy hopes, as by the world, forsaken. 

My pity the last altar that was left thee, 

I heard thy syren charms, with feeling heard them. 

And my compassion made mine eyes vie tears 

With thine, dissembling crocodile '. and when (jueena 

Were emulous for thy im])erial bed. 

The garments of thy sorrows cast aside, 

I put thee in a shape* as would have forced 

Envy from Cleopatra, had she seen ihee. 

Then, when I knew my brother's blood waswarm'd 

With youthful fires, I brought thee to his jiresence ; 

And how my deep designs, for thy good plotted. 

Succeeded to my wishes, is apparent. 

And needs no repetition. 

Eud. I am conscious 
Of your so many and unequall'd favours; 
But find not how I may accuse myself 
For any facts committed, that, with justice, 
Can raise yf>ur anger to this height against me. 

Pul. Pride and forgetl'ulness would not let thee 
see that. 
Against which now thou canst not close thy eyes. 
What injury could be equal to thy late 
Contempt of my good counsel? When I urged 
The emperor's prodigal bounties, and entreated 
That you would use your power to give them limits, 
Or, at the least, a due consideration 
Of such as sued, and for whai, ere he sigii'd it; 
In opposition, you brought against nie 
The obedience of a wife, that ladies wt-re not, 
Being well accommodated by their lo'ds. 
To question, but much less to cross, their jileasures; 
Nor would you, though the emperor were resolved 
To give away his sceptre, hinder it. 
Since 'twas done fur your honour ; covering, with 
False colours of humility, your ambition. 

Eud. And is this my oflence ? 

Pul. As wicked counsel 
Is still most Iiurlful unto those that give it; 
Such as deny to follow what is good, 
In reason, are the first that must repent it. 
When I please, you shall hear more ; in the mean 

time. 
Thank your own wilful folly, that hath changed you 
From an empress to a bondwoman. 
Tlieo. [ivithiii'\ Force the doors ; 
Kill those that dare resist. 

Enter Theodosius, Paulinus, Philanax, Chhysa- 
pius and Gkaiianus. 

End. Dear sir, redeem me. 

Flac. O suffer not, -for your own honour's sake. 
The empress, you so late loved, to be made 
A prisoner in the court. 

Arcad. Leap to his lips. 
You'll find them the best sanctuary. 

Flac. And try then. 
What interest my reverend sister hath 
To force vou from them. 

Theo. What strange May-game's this? 
Though done in sport, how ill this levity 
Becomes your wisdom ! 

• / put thee in a sliHpe, &c. i. e. a niaiiiiificeiit 'IreM 
habil. AUiidiiij; to her itireclions to the servant. 



300 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act IV 



Pill. I am serious, sir. 
And have done nothin<j but what you in honour, 
And as von are yourself an emperor. 
Stand hound to justify. 

Tlieo. 'I'ake heed ; put not these 
Strau'^e trials on n.y i^aiience. 

Pill. Do not yo'-', sir. 
Deny your own act: As you are a man, 
And statjd on your own bottom, 'twill appear 
A chddisli weakness to m-ike void a grant 
Sifcn'd by voursai-red hand and seal, and sfrengthen'd 

"'ith a lelitrious ouili, but with my licons« 
Never to be lecall'd. For some few minutes 
Let reacon rule your passion, and in tliis 

[Deliiers the deed. 
Be pleased to read mv interest: vnu will find there, 
What you in me rail violence, is justice, 
And that I may make use of whar's mine own. 
Accordiiiu; to mv will. 'Tis your own uifr, sir; 
And what an emperor gives, shouhi stand as firm 
As the celestial poles upon the shouMers 
Of Atlas, or his successor in that office, 
The great Alcides. 

'^'heo. Miseries of more weight 
Thaii ''"s feij.n"d ihev supported, fall upon me. 
What hath mv rashness done ! In this transaction, 
Drawn in ex])ress and formal terms, 1 have 
Cji/en and consig-n'd into youi liarids, to use 
And, observe, as you please my dear ICuilocia ! 
It is my deed, 1 do confess it is, 
And, as I am myself, not to be cancell'd : 
But yet you may show mercy — and yon will, 
When you consider that there is no beauty 
So perfect in a creature, but is soil'd 
With some unbeseeming blemish. You have la- 

bour'd 
To build me up a complete prince, 'tis granted ; 
Yet, as I am a man, like other monarchs 
I have defects and frailties ; my facility 
To send petirio ers with pleased looks from me. 
Is all 1 can be charged with ; and it will 
Become your wisdom (since 'tis in your power). 
In charity to provide 1 fall* no further 
Or in my oath, or honour. 

Pill. Royal sir. 
This was the mark I aim'd at, and I glory 
At the length, you so conceive it : 'twas a weakness 
To measure by your own integrity 
The purposes of others. 1 have shown you, 
In a true mirror, what fruit grows upon 



The tree of hoodwink'd bounty, and what dangers 
Preci|)itation, in the managing 
Your great affairs, produceth 

Then. 1 embrace it 
As a grave advertisement, and vow hereafter 
Never to sign petitions at this rate. 

Pill. For mine, see, sir, 'tis cancell'd, on my 
knees 
I re-deliver what I now begg'd from you. 

[Tears the deed. 
She is my second gift*. 

Then. Which if I part from 
Till death divorce us [/fisses Eudocia 

End. So, sir ! 

Then. Nay, sweet, chide not, 
I am punisli'd in thy looks; defer the rest. 
Till we are more jirivate. 

Pill. 1 a.-k pardon too. 
If, in my persoiuitpd passion, I 
A|)pfar'(l too harsh and rough. 

End. 'Twas gentle language. 
What I was then consider'd. 

Pill. O, dear madam, 
It was decorum in the scene. 

End. This trial. 
When I was Athenais, might have pass'd, 
But as I am the empress 

Then. Nay, no anger. 
Since all good was inteiuled. 

[Exeunt Theodosius, Eudocia, Arcadia, and 
F/iicc-lla. 

Pill. Building oil 
That certain base, 1 teat not what can follow. 

lExit. 

Paul These are strange dby'^os, Pliilanax. 

Phil. True my lord. 
May all turn to ihe best ! 

Grat. The emperor's looks 
Promised a calm. 

Chy. lint the vex'd empress' frowns 
Presaged a second storm. 

Paul. I am sure I feel one 
In my leg already. 

Phil. Your old friend, the gout ? 

Paul. My forced companion, Philanax. 

Chru. I'o your rest. [diet, 

Paul. Rest, and forbearing wine, with atemperato 
Though many mountebanks pretend the cure oft, 
I have found my best physicians. 

Phil. Ease to your lordship. [Exeunt. 



ACT IV 



SCENE I. — A lioom in the Palace. 
Enter Eudocia and Chrysapius. 
End. Make me her property ! 
Chry. Your Majesty 
Hath just cause of distaste ; and your resentment 
Of the affront in the point of honour, cannot 
But meet a fair construction. 



* / fall no further.] Here, as in several other plaices Mr 
M. Mhsoii siib.^tiliues/at/ tor/a//, ilioiii;h llie liittt-r he niHiii- 
festly the belter word, and wli4t is of more iinponante the 
<uthor'!i. 



E,ud. I have only 
The title of an empress, but the power 
I> by her ravisb'd from me : she .surveys 
My actions as a governess, an<i calls 
Mv not observing all that she directs, 
Folly and di.-obedierue. 

Chri). Under correction, 
With grief I've long observed it: and. if \ou 
Stand pleased to sign my warrant, I'll deliver, 

* She is my second yifl'\ i. e. (tli<)iii;li ilie iiiodc uf e\pref 
sidii is i;iiliui iiicoircci,) tlie is now j;iveii to jdii by iiie 
iiKcund time. 



SCKNE 11.] 



THK EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



.KjI 



In my unfeig^n'd zeal and desire to serve you 
(Howe'er 1 run the hazard of iiiv !ie;id ("or't, 
Should it arrive at the knowle(li;e of the princess), 
Not alone the reasons wliv things are thus carried, 
Eutgive into vour hands the power to clip 
The vi'ing;s of" her command. 
• End. Vour s(-rvice this way 
Cannot offend me. 

Cru. Be vou pleased to know then. 
But siill with pardon, if I am too bold. 
Your too much sufferance imps the broken feathers 
Which carry her to this proud iieight, in which 
She with security soars, and .still towers o'er you : 
But if you would employ the strengths you hold* 
In the emperor's affections, and rememher 
The orb you move in should admit no star else, 
You never would confess, the managing' 
Of state affairs to her alone are proper, 
And >ou sit by, a looker on. 

End. I would not, 
If it were possible I could attempt 
Her diminution, without a taint 
Of foul ingratitude in myself. 

Chru- In this 
The sweetness of your temper does abuse you ; 
And you call that a benefit to yourself. 
Wliich she, for her own ends, conferral upon you. 
'Tis \ielcled she gave way to your advancement : 
But for what cause? that she might .still continue 
Her absolute sw:iv and swing o'> r the whole state ; 
And that she might to her admirers vaunt. 
The empress was htr creature, and the giver 
'I'o be jireferr'd before the gift. 

End. It may be. 

Chry. Nay, 'tis most certain ; whereas, would you 
])lease 
In a true glass to look upon yourself, 
And view, wiiliout detraction, your own merits. 
Which all men wonder at, vou wouhl find that fate. 
Without a second cause, appointed you 
To the sui remest hmiour. For the princess, 
She hath reign'd long enough, and hei remove 
Will make your entrance free to the possession 
Of " liat vou weie born to ; anJ, but once resolve 
To build upon ht-r ruins, leave the engines 
That must be used to undermine her greatness. 
To mv provision. 

End. I thank your care ; 
But a design of such weight must not be 
Rasbly determined of; it will exact 
A long- and serious consultation Irom me. 
In the mean time, Chrysapius, rest assured 
I live your thankful mistress. [Ei//. 

Chni. Is this all ] 
Will tiie phvsic that I minister'd woik no further? 
I have play'd the fool ; and,, leaving a calm port, 
Embark 'tl myself on a rough sea of danger. 
In her silence lies my safety, wiiii b how can I 
Hope from a woman ? but the die is thrown, 
And I must stand the hazard. [Exit. 

SCENE II.— .'1 Space belWe the Palace. 

Enter Theudosius, Phii,ana.\, Timantus, Gratia- 
HiS,aiid Huntsmen. 

Then. Is Paulinus 
So tortured with his gout? 



• Hut if you would ewplny the strpiigtlis ymi hold, &c.] 
b'or itri'iiyths Coxeier and .Mr. .\i. Masuii as 1 liavi; alrtady 



Phil. IMost miserably. 
And it adds much to bis affliction, that 
'I he pain denies him power to watt upon 
Your INlajesty. 

Theo. 1 pity him : — he is 
A wondrous honest man, and what be suffers, 
I know, will grieve my empress. 

Tim. He, indeed, is 
Much bound to her gracious favour. 

Theo. lie deserves it ; 
She cannot find a subject upon whom 
She better may confer it. Is the stag 
Safe lodg-ed ? 

Grat. Yes, sir, and the hounds and huntsmen 
readv. 

Phil. He will make you royal sport. He is a deer 
Often* at lite least. 

Enter a Countryman with an apple. 

Cri-at. Whitber will this clown? 
Tim. Stand back. 

Couiiir. I would zee the emiieror; why should 
you courtiers 
Scorn a jioor conntrvman ? we zweat at the plough 
'i"o vill your mouihs, you aud your curs might starve 

else : 
We prune the orchards, and vou cranoh the fruity 
Vet still y'are snai ling at us. 
Theo. What's the matter.' 
CoiiKtr. 1 would look on ihv sweet face. 
Tim. I'lunannerly swain ! 

Countr. /wain! iliougli I am a zwain, I have a 
heart yet. 
As ready to do service for mv leegef. 
As any princox peacock of you all. 
Z okers 1 liad 1 one of you zingle, with this twig 
I would so \ eeze son. 

Tim. Will your majesty 
Hear this lude language! 

Theo. ^'es, and hold it as 
An ornament, not :i blemish. O, Timantus, 
Since that dread Power by whom we are, disdains 
I nut 

I With an open ear to hear petitions from us ; 
I Easy access in us, his? de|.uties, 
I To the meanest of our subjects, is a debt 
I Which we stand bound to jiav.' 
I Comitr. Uv my granam's ghost 
I 'i'is a holesome zaynig ! our vicar could not mend it 
I In the jmlpit on a Zunday. 
I Theo V\ hat's thv suit, liieiid ? 
■ Countr. Zute! I would laugh at that. Let the 
i court beg from thee, 

I Wliat the j)oor country eives : I bring a present 
I To thy good grace, which I can call mine own. 



observed, constantly read strenyth ; v. liici; bears a very 
ditlcreiit meaning. Strenyths are stioiig holds, lortresses, 
connnandin^ positions, &c 

* lie is a dei'r 

Often,' That is, a deer lliat has len brandies to his horns, 

wliicl' lliey liave at three jiaisold. W. Mason. 

♦ As ready to do service for my lee^jc.j This List word 
Coseler blniidered into ley; iVir. M. Ai ason copies him, but 
slirewdly observes—" lie^e is the word intended by the 
speaker, bill I suppose it is viissptit on purpose.'" I sup- 
pose, in Miy turn, that this sjeoileiii.iii i,- a ;|ni;id.ir in-lance 
ot crilici/.ing a writer without lool^lll<^al liiiii ! of e>liiiii^an 
aiitlior without cousnltini; llie orit;j .a! in a sin;;le iii'I.iiice ! 
All the eopies read as 1 h ive yiv. ii it In the ne\l line, 
boih he and Coxeler absurdly si |).ir,iie piiiicoN (or, as they 
ehoose to wiiie it, prnie.ocl.) IVoin peacock, to which it if 

\ the adjective. 



aot 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act IV. 



And look not, "ike these g:ay volk, for a return 
Of what they venture. Have 1 giv'n't you? ha! 

Chry. A perilous knave. 

Countr. Zee here a dainty apple. 

[Presents the apple. 
Of mine own graffing ; zweet and zound, 1 assure 
thee. 

Then. It is the fairest fruit I ever saw. 
Those golden apples in llie Hesperian orchards, 
So strangely guarded* by thH watchful dragon, 
As they required great Hercules to get them ; 
Or those with wliich Hippomenes deceived 
Swift-footed Atalanta, wlien I look 
On this, deserve no wonder. You behold 
The poor man and his present wiih contempt ; 
I to iJieir value priz:- both : he that could 
So aid weak nature by his care and labour, 
As to compel a cral)-tree slock to bear 
A precious fruit of tliis large size and beauty, 
Would by h.s industry change a petty village 
Into a populous city, and from that 
Erect a flourishing kingdom. Give the fellow. 
For an encouragement to his future labours. 
Ten Attic talents. 

Countr, I will weary heaven 
Witli my prayers for your majesty. [Exit. 

Then. Philanax, 
From me present this rarity to the rarest 
And best of women : when I think upon 
The boundless hap|iiness tiiat from her flows to me. 
In my imagination 1 am rapt 
Beyond myself: but I forget our hunting. 
To the forest, for the exercise of my body ; 
But i'or my mind, 'tis wholly taken up 
In the contemplation of her matchless virtues. 

[Eieidif. 



SCENK Ul.—A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Euuocr», Pui.ciiiiRiA, Aucadia, and 
Klaccilla. 

Eud. You shall know there's a difference between 
us. 

Pul. There was, 1 am certain, not long since, 
wlien you 
Kneel'd a petitioner to me : then you were happy 
To be near my het; and do you Imld it, no.v. 
As a disj)iirHgement, that I side you. lady ^ 

End. Since voii respect me only as I was, 
What I am sh;ill be remember'd. 

Pal. Does the meai;s 
I practised, to siive good and saving counsels 
To the emperor, and vour new-stainjied majesty, 
Still Slick m your stoniadi I 

Eud. '1 is hot yet difiested, 
In troth it is not. W hy, good governess, 
Thougn you are liekl for a grand madam, and your- 
self 
The first that ovei prize it, 1 ne'er took 
Your words for Delphim oracles, nor your actions 
For such woiid.'rs as you make them : — there is one. 
When she siiall see her time, as fil and able 
To be made partner of the emperor's cares, 
As your wi--e self, and may with justice challenge 

• So straiigi'ly yvardfd. &c] lliuiigli stranyely be some- 
times iisi(i bj <iur old wiurs in the same sehse here reqnireri 
yet 1 tliiiik wv II iglit vti.mre to reart, .iu sfoiigly ^uarrf«-d. 
—I have, liiiwrvcr, made no cliaiiue. 



A nearer interest. — You have done your visit. 
So, when you please, you may leave me. 

Pvl. I'll not bandy 
Words with your mightiness, proud one ; only this, 
You carry too much sail for your small bark. 
And that, when you least think upon't, may sink 
you. [Eiit, 

Flac. 1 am glad she's gone. 

Arcad. I lear'd she would have read 
A tedious lecture to us. 

Enter Philanax with the apple. 

Phil. From the emperor, 
T/iis rare fruit to the rarest. 

Eud. How, my lord ! 

Phil. I use his language, madam ; and that trust, 
Which he imposed on me, discharged, his ple.isure 
Commands my present service. [Exit. 

Eud. Have you seen 
So fair an apple ? 

Flac. Never. 

Arcid. If the taste 
Answer the beauty. 

Eud. Prettily begg'd : — you should have it, 
But that you eat too much cold fruit, and that 
Changes the fresh red in your cheeks to paleness, 

E/i(er a Servant. • 
I have other dainties for you : — You come from 
Paulinus; how is't with that truly noble 
And honest lord, my witness at the fount. 
In a wiivd, the man to whose bless'd charity 
1 owe my greatness ! How is t with him ? 

Serv. Sprightly ^ 

In his mind ; but, by the raging of his gout. 
In his body much distemper'd ; that you pleased 
I'o iiu|uire his health, took oft" mu«h from hii pain, 
His glad looks did confirm it. 

Eud. Uo his doctors 
Give him no hope ? 

Serv, Little ; they rather fear, 
Hy his con inual burning, that he stands 
In danger of a fever. 

Eud. 'Jo liim ag:iin. 
And tell him, that 1 heartily wish it lay 
In me to ease liim ; and from me deliver 
This choice fruit to him ; you may say to that, 
1 hope it will [irove physical. 

Serv. The good lord 
Will be o'erjiiy'd with the favour. 

Eud.fHv deserves more. [Exeunt. 



SCENE IV.— A Boom in Paulinus' Hotixe. 

Paulinus discovered in a Chair, attended hy a 
Surgeon. 

Surg. I have done as much as art can do, to stop 
The violent course of your fit, and I hope you feel it: 
Mow does your honour ? 

Paul. At some ease, I thank you ; 
1 would vou could assure continuance of it. 
For the moiety of my fortune. 

Surg. If 1 could cure 
The gout, my lord, without the philosoplier's stone 
1 should !*oon purchase, it being a disease 
lu poor men very rare, and in tie rich 
t he cure impossible. Your many bounties 
Kid me prepare yu for a certain truth, 
\.inl to fl.itier vou were dishonest. 



§tENE I V.J 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



W3 



Paul. Your plain dealing 
Desei ves !i fee*. Would there were manv more such 
Of your profession ! Ilappv are poor men ! 
If sick witli the excess of lieat or cold, 
Casied hy necessitous labour, not loose surfeits, — 
Tiiey, when spare diet, or kind nature fail 
To perfect their recovery, soon arrive at 
Their rest in death : but, on (he contrary, 
The great and noble are exposed as preys 
To the rapine of physicians ; and they, 
In lingerins; out what is remediless, 
Aim at their profit, not the patient's health. 
A thousand trials and experiments 
Have been put upon me, and 1 forced to pay dear 
For my vexation ; but I am resolved 
(I thank your honest freedom) to be made 
A property no more for knaves to work on. 

Enter Cttov wilh a parchment roll. 
What have you there? 

Cle. The triumphs of an artsman 
O'er all infirmities, made authentical 
With the names of princes, kings, and emperors. 
That were liis patients. 
Paul. Some empiric. 

Cte. It may be so ; but he swears, within three 
days 
He'll e;rub up your gout by the roots, and make you 

able 
To march ten leagues a day in complete armour. 
Paul. Impossible. 

Cle. Or, if you like not him 

Surg. Hear him, my lord, for your mirth ; I will 
take order 
They shall not wrong you. 
Paul. Usher in your monster. 
Cle. He is at hand. — March up : now speak for 
yourself. 

Enter Empiric. 

Emp. I come not, right honourable, to your pre- 
sence, with any base and sordid end of reward ; the 
immortality of my fame is the white I shoot at : 
thecharge of my most curious and costly ingredients 
frayed, amounting to some seventeen thousand 
crowns — a trifle in respect of health — writing your 
Doble name in my catalogue, I shall acknowledge 
myself amply satisfied. 

Surg. 1 believe so. 

Emp, For your own sakef, I most heartily wish 

Would IherKwere many wore such 



Of ynur profestionj Tlu'setHo licmiaticlis are wliolly 
dropt by Mr. Si. Mason, «lio reads, 

Paul. Your plain dealing 
Deserves a fee. Happy are poor men : 
thoui;h llie lameness of the nieirc nii<;lit have excited a sus- 
picion of some detect. This is the lilih passage uiniited by 
him in the compass of a lew pages! 

t Emp. For your own sake, &c.] This empiric may 
be considered as the fniitlnl parent of tlie quack, wliich lor 
the two last centmies, has poisoned us in the closet, an<l en- 
tertained ns on the stage: a proud distinction to which his 
ignorance an<l impndince fully entitle him! 

I donbt whether Massinger ever fell into Moliere's hands ; 
there is, however, as Mr. Gilchrist has well observed, , so 
striking a rtscmblance between a passage in the Afalade 
Imayinaire 'nd this before us, thai it is difficult to believe 
the coincidence accidental : 

Toinette Je votidrois que vous evssiez toutrs lr« maladies 
que jf i^iens de dire ; que vous fussiez ahanilonni' de tousles 
mt'deciiis, disespere, d I agonie pour vou.i monlrer I'ercel- 
lenre de met remedes, et I envie que f aurois de vous rendre 
service. 

Argan. Je vous suis obllye, monsieur, des bontes que vous 
avez pcur moi, &c. Acte 111. Sc. 13. 



that you had now all the diseases, maladies, and 
infirmities upon you, that were ever remembered by 
old Galen, Hip|iocrates, or the later and more 
admired Paracelsus. 

Paul. For your good wish, I thank you ! 

Emp. .Take me wiih you, I beseecli your good 
lordship. — I urged it, that your joy, in being cer- 
tainly and su<ldenly freed from them, may be the 
greater, and mv not-to-be-paralleled skill the more 
remarkable. The cure of the gout — :i tov, without 
boast be it said, my cradle-practice : the cancer, tlie 
fistula, the dropsy, consumption of lungs and kid- 
neys, hurts in the brain, heart, or liver, are things 
worthy my oppositirn ; but in the recovery of my 
patients I ever overcome them. But to vour 
gout 

Paul. Ay, marry, sir, that cured, I shall be apter 
To give credit to the rest. 

Emp. Suppose it done, sir. 

Surg. Anti the means you use, I beseech vou ? 

Emp. 1 will do it in the plainest language, and 
discover mv ingredients. First, my hoteni terehin- 
thhia of Cypris*, my manna, ros caelo, coagulated 
with vetnlos ovrum, vulgarly the yolks of eggs, with 
a little cyath or cpiantity of my potable elixir, with 
some few scruples of sassafras and guiacum, so taken 
every morning and evening, in the space of three 
days, purgeth, < leanseih, and dissipateth the iinvard 
causes of tiie virulent tumour. 

Paul. VVhv do you smile? 

Su-g. When he hath done I will resolve you. 

Emp. For my exterior applications, I have these 
balsum-unguentulurrs, extractetl from herbs, j)lants, 
roots, seeds, gums, and a million of other vegetal)les, 
the principal of which are, UHssipona,,OT serpenturia, 
sojyhia, or herhii ci'iisoUdnriim, parlhehiiim. or toni- 
mauilla Uomnna, mumia triimmarina, mixed with my 
pliimhnm philosophorum, and tiialer metallnrum, cum 
ossa paiuleli, e.H rDinersah med>camentum in podagra. 

Cle. A conjuring halsamuni ! 

Emp. This applied warm up'^n the pained phice, 
with a feather of struthio-cameli, or a bird of jtara- 
dise, which is every where to be had, shall exjiiilse 
this lartarous, viscous, anatlieos, and malignant dolor 

Surg. An excellent receipt ! but does your lord- 
ship 
Know what 'tis good for? 

Paul. 1 would be instructed. 

Surg. For the gonorrha-a, or, if you will hear it 
In a plainer phrase, the pox. 

Emp. If it cure his lordship 
Of that by the way, I hope, sir, 'tis the better. 
My medicine serves for all things, and the pox, sir^ 
'i'hough falsely named the sciatica, or gout, • 

Is the more catholic sickness. 

Paul. Hence with the rascal ! 
Yet hurt him not, he makes me smile, and that 
Frees him from punishment. [They thrust him off. 

Surg. Such slaves as this 
Render our art contemptible. 

Enter Servant with ike apple. 
Serv. My good lord. 
Faul. So soon ret urn 'd ! 
Serv. And with this present from 

• First, my boteni terebinthina of Cypris, &c.] As I 

know not what degree of learning ihe autiior meant to give 

this impostor, 1 have left his jargon as I found it, content 

ing Miyself with correctini; the verbal oversights of Hie for 

I Dier editor. 



304 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act IV. 



Your great and gracious mistress, with her wishes 
It may prove physical to you. 

I'auL In mv heart 
I knet- 1, and tliank lier bounty. Dear friend Cleon, 
Give liim the cuphoaid of plate in the next room. 
For a reward. — [Exenitt Clean and Servant J] — Most 

glorious fruit ! but made 
More precious by her grace and love that sent it : 
To touch it only, coming from lier hand. 
Makes me forget all pam. A diamond 
Of tliis large size (thougli it would buy a kingdom), 
Hewed from the rock, and laid down at my feet, 
Nay, thoiii;h a monarch's gift, will Iiold no value, 
Compared with tliis — and yet, ere 1 presume 
To taste it, thougli, sans question, it is 
Some lii-avenly restorative, I in duty 
Stand bound to weigh my own unwortliiness. 
Ambrosia is food only for the gods. 
And not by human lips to I e profaned. 
I may adore it as some holy relic 
Derived from thence, but impious to keep it 
In my |)ossession : the emperor only 
Is worthy to enjoy it. — 

Re-enter Cleon'. 

Go, good Cleon, 
And (cease tliis admiration at this object). 
From me present this to my royal master, 
I know it will amaze him : and excuse me 
That I am not myself the bearer of it. 
That I should be lame now, when with wings of 

duty 
I should fly to the service of this empress ! 
Nay, no delays, good Cleon. 

Cle. 1 am gone, sir. {Exeunt. 



SCENE v.— ^ Rium in the Palace. 

Enter Theodosius, Chrys*P!US, Timantus, and 
Gratianus. 

C/iri/. Are you not tired, sir? 

Then. Tired ! I must not say so. 
However, though I rode hard. 'J'o a huntsman, 
His toil is his delight, and to complain 
Of weariness, would show as poorly in him 
As if a general should jjrieve for a wound 
Received upon his forehead, or his breast, 
After a glorious victory. Lay by 
These accoutrements for the chase. 

Enter Pdichehia. 
Ptd. You are well return 'd, sir, 
From your princely exercise. 
• Theo. S.sier, to you 
I owe the freedom, and the use of all 
The pleasures 1 enjov : your care provides 
For my security, and the burtlien, which 
I should alone sustain, you undergo. 
And, by y<mr painful watchings, yield my sleeps 
Both sound an<l sure. How liappy am 1 in 
Your knowledge of the ait of government ! 
And, credit me, I glory to behold you 
Dispose of great designs, as if vou were* 
A part, and no subject of my empire. 



• Dispose of yrfaf designs, as if you uerf] Tliis line, lno, 
which makes stiise of ilii- p.is-rfnf, "is \>li.,lly oiiiiiled by Mr. 
M. IWasdii. 1 have no ple.i.suie in [(..iutu'i- oni 'luse per- 
pctn.il blmiilers ; but il is illlpus^ible to p^iss iliein eiitiicly 
over in an editor wlio lajs cl mn to our uralituilt solelj on llie 
score of superior accuracy ami atteiitiuu ! 



Put. My vigilance, since it hath well succeeded, 
T am confident you allow of— yet it is not 
Approved by all. 

Theo. Who dares repine at that 
Which liath our suffrage? 

Pill. One that too well knows 
The strength of her abilities can better 
Mv weak endeavours. 

Theo. In this you reflect 
Ujv'ti mv empress ? 

Pill. True ; for, as she is 
The consort of vour bed, 'tis fit she share in 
Your cares and absolute power. 

Theo. Vou touch a string 
That sounds but harshly io me ; and I must, 
In a broiher's love, advise vou, that hereat'ter 
You would forbear to move it : since she is 
In her pure self a harmony of such -weetness, 
Composed of iliity, chaste desires, her beauty 
(Thougli it might tempt a liermit from his beads) 
I he least of her endowments. 1 am sorry 
Her holding the first place, since that the second 
Is proper to yourself, calls on vour envy. 
She err ! it is impossible in a thought ; 
And much more speak oi do what may offend me. 
In other things I would believe you, sister; 
But, though the tongues of saints and angels tax'd 

her 
Of any imperfection, I should be 
Incredulous. 

Pill. Slie is yet a woman, sir. 

Theo. 'I'lie ahsirait of what's excellentjn the sex, 
But to their mul. ts and frailties a mere stranger ; 
I'll die in this belief. 

Eiiter Cleon with the apple. 

Cleo, Your humblest servant. 
The lord Paiilinus, as a witness of 
His zeal and dutv to your majesty. 
Presents vou with this jewel. 

Theo. Ha! 

Cle. It is 
Preferr'd by him 

Theo. Above his honour ? 

Cleo. No, sir ; 
I would have said his patrimony. 

Theo. 'I'is the same. 

Cleo. And he entreats, since lameness may excuse 
His not presenting it himself, from me 
(Though far unworthy to supply his place) 
Yoti would vouchsafe to accept it. 

Theo, Further off. 
You've told your tale. Staye you for a reward ? 
Take that. \_Srike$ him. 

Pill. How's this? 

Chri/. 1 never saw him moved thus. 

Theo. We must not part so, sir; — a guard upon 
him. 

Enter Guard. 

]\Iav I not vent my sorrows in the air, 
Without discovery ? Forbear the room ! 

[Erei/nt Pal. Chry. Tim, Crat. and Guard 
Willi Cle, 
Yet be within call. — What an earthquake -I feel in 

me ! 
And on a .'^udden my whole fiibric totters. 
My blood within me turns, and through my veins, 
Piirting with natural redness, I discern it 
Changed to a fatal yellow. What an army 



Scene V.] 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



SOT 



Of Iielhsh furies, in the horrid shapes [rescue, 

Of doubts and fenrs, charge on me ! rise to my 

Thou stout maintaiuer of a cliaste wife's honour, 

The confidence of her virtues ; be not shaken 

With the wind of vain surmises, much less suffer 

Tlife devil jealousy to whisper to me 

My curious observation of that 

I must no more remember. VVill't not be? 

Thou uninvited o;uest, ill-manner'd iroiister, 

1 charue thee, leave me ! wilt thou force me to ' 

Give i'uel to that tire I would put out ? 

The >:oodnessof my memory proves my mischief, 

And I would sell mv empire, could it jiurchase 

The dull art of forgetfulness*. — Who waits tiiere ? 

Ke-eiiter Timantus. 

Tim. Most sacred sir 

Thi>i<. Saciedt, as 'tis accurs'd, 
Is proper to me. Siriah, upon your life, 
Without a word concernins)- this, command 
Eudocia to come to me. [Exit Tim.] Would I had 
Ne'er known her by that name, my mother's name, 
Or that for her own sake, she had continued 
Poor Atiienais still ! — No intermission ! 
Wilt thou so soon torment me 1 must 1 read, 
Writ in the table of mv memory. 
To warrant my susp cion, how Paulinus 
(Though ever thought a man averse to women) 
First gave her entertviinmeri(, made her way 
For audirnce to njv sister ? — ihen I ditl 
Myself observe how he was ravish 'd with 
The gracious deliverv of her story, 
Which was, 1 grant, the bait that first took me too : — 
She was his convert; what the rhetoric was 
He used, 1 know not ; and, since she was mine, 
In private as in public what a mass 
Of grace and favour hath she heap'd upon him ! 
And but to day this fatal fruit — She's come. 

Re-enter Ti.mantus with Eudocia, Flaccilla, and 
Arcadia. 

Can she be guilty ! 

End. You seem troubled, sir ; 

• To account for this paroxysm of jealous fury in Tlieodo- 
sius, we must call to mind that the aticieiils attaclieil a cer- 
tain decree of mystical consequence to the presentation of 
ia apple ; whicli they universally agieed to consider as a 
tacit confession of pa^sion accepted and returned. Catullus 
has some beautiful lines on the subject : 

Ut misswii spnnsi furtivo munere mal inn 

Prncurrit casta viryinis e yrrniio, 
Qund miserce ol>litee molli srih vfSte tocntum, 

Dwn ndventu malris prosilit, excutitur, 
At (pie ill.ud prono prwcpps ni/itur decursii : 

}luii: miinat tris'i conscius ore rubor. Car. 63. 
Upon whicli Vossius ob^erves, with a reference to the im- 
mediate j^uhjeit of this scene : Mala amantiuin semper 
uisse mnnera, et ohscosnam continere sUjnificatUmem, satis 
vel ex prima patet CufiUli epiyrammate , et multa salis de 
his colliyerunt viri docti. Nee florentibus tanttim (iracits 
et Romance rebus, sed et cnllapsa utrorumque J'ort'in<i,ean- 
dem permanisse siynificatimvm, satis docet eaemplum Fau- 
liiti intereiripti propter pomum missiim ab Eudocia itnpera- 
trice, de quo vide fjlimnicon Alexandrinum, et cumplures 
historiai scriptores. Obser. ad C. Val. Catnllum. 

Massing;er, therefore, had suflitieiil auihorily for this part 
of hi' story. The fact, however, is properly di cre(lite<l by 
later and more judicious writers, who have ohserveil tli.it it 
has all the appearance of an eastern ticlioii ; and, indeed, an 
adveniuie, with no very distant resemblauc to it.isfound in 
The Arabian '/'ales 

ISacratua, in Latin, means' accursed ; to this Theodosius 
alludes, when he sa>s that Sacred as it is accursed, is pro- 
per to him. M. Mason. 

I recollect no instance of this sense o( sacratus : it waste 
lacer that Theodosius alluded; and so peihaps did Mr. M. 
Mason if he had known it. 



My innocence makes me bold to ask the c?usp. 
That 1 may ease you of it. No salute. 
After four long hours' absence ! 

Then. Prithee, f()r<;ive me. \Kisiet htr, 

Methinks I find Paulinus on her lips, 
And the fresh nectar that I drew from thence 
Is on the sudden pall'd. How have you spent 
V'our hours since I last saw you? 

V.ttd. In the converse 
Of your sweet sisters. 

Then. Did not Phitanax , 
From me deliver you an apple ? 

End. Yes, sir; 
Heaven, how you frown ! pray you, talk of some 

thing else, 
Think not of such a trifle. 

Then. How, a trifle ! 
Does anv toy from me presented to you, 
Deserve to be so slighted ? do you value 
Wliut's sent, and not the sender? from a peasant 
It had deserved your thanks. 

End. And meets from you, sir, 
All possible respect. 

Then. I prized it, lady. 
At a higher rate than you believe; and would not 
Have parted with it, but to one I did 
Prefer before myself. 

End. It was, indeed, 
The fairest that I ever saw. 

Theo. It was ; 
And it had virtues in it, my Eudocia, 
Not visible to the eye. 

Eud. It may be so, sir. 

Tlieo. What did you with it? — tell me punctu^ly ; 
I look for a strict accompt. 

End. What shall I answer? 

Then. Do you stagger? Ha ! 

Eud. No, sir ; 1 have eaten it. 
It had the pleasant'st* taste ! — I wonder that 
Yon found it not in mv breath. 

Theo. I'faith, I did not. 
And it was wondrous strange. 

F.iid. Pray you, try again. 

Theo. I find no scent oft here : you play with me ; 
You have it still ? 

Eud. By your sacred life and fortune, 
An oath I dare not break, 1 have eaten it. 

Theo. Do you know how this oath binds ? 

Eud. Too well to break it. 

Thfo. That ever man, to please his brutish sense. 
Should slave his understanding to his passions, 
And, taken with soon-fading white and red. 
Deliver up his credulous ears to hear 
The magic of a syren ; and from these " 

Believet there ever was, is, or can be 
More than a seeming honesty in bad woman ! 

Eud. This is strange language, sir. 

Theo. Who waits! Come all. 
He-enter Pulcheria, Philaxax, Chrysapius, 
Ghatianus, and Guard. 

May, sister, not so near, being of the sex, 
I fear you are infected too. 
Pul. What mean you ? 



• It had the pleasant'st taste !] Coxeter and Mr. M. Ma- 
son rea.l. It had \\\tt pleclsant taste, which, if not nonsense, 
is not very far if moved from it. 

+ Believe there ever was.] So the old copy: the moilern 
editors, to the destruction both of sense and metre, rcaa 
lieiieviny ther<" eve' was, &c. 



SC/t 



THE EMPEROR OF tHE EAST. 



[Act IV 



Tbeo. 'ic sr.ovf you a miracle, a prodigy 

Which Afric never pquall'd : Can you think 

Tliis niastei-piece of lieaven*, tliis precious vellum, 
Of Sucli a purity jiiid virgin whiteness, 
Could be design'd to have perjury and whoredom, 
In capital letters, writ upon't? 

Pill. Dear sir. 

Th«0. Nay, add to this, an impudence beyond 
All prostituted boldness Ait not dead yet? 
U'ill not the tempests in tliy conscience rend thee 
As small as atoms, that there may no sign 
Be left thou ever wert so? wilt thou live 
Till thou :irt blasted with the dre;idt'ul lightning 
Of pregnant and unanswerable proofs 
Of thy adulterous twines ? die yet, that I 
With my lionour may conceal it. 

Etid. Would long since 
The Gorgon of your rage had turn'd nie marble '. 
Or, if I have offended 

r/i€i>. If! good angels ! 

But 1 am tame ; look on this dumb accuser. 

[.S'ftoujiiig the apple. 

End. Oh, I am lost ! 

Theo. Did e\ er cormorant 
Swallow his prey, and then digest it whole. 
As she hath done this apple? I'hilanax, 
As 'tis, from me presented it ; the good lady 
Swore she had eaten it ; yet, I know not how, 
It came entire unto Paulinus' hands. 
And I I'rom him received it, sent in scorn, 
Upon my life, to give me a close touch 
That he was weary of tiiee. Was there nothing 
Left thee to fee him to give satisfaction 
To thy insatiate lust, but what was sent 
As a dear favour from me? How have I sinn'd 
In my dotage on this creature ! but t to her, 
I have lived as I was born, a perfect virgin : 
Nay, more, I thought it not ei.ough to be 
True to her bed, but that I must feed high, 
To strengthen my abilities to cloy 
Her ravenous appetite, little sus|)ecting 
She would desire a change. 

End. I never did, sir. 

Thea. Be dumb ; 1 will not waste my breath in 
taxing 
Thy base ingratitude. How I have raised thee 



Can you think 



This matterpiece of hravm, &c.] 

" Was llii* fair fjaper, iliis most goodly book, 
Made to write wliort upon f" Othello. 

There arc several oilier sliorl pa-sai;es in this scene copied 
or imitated from the same play ; which, as sufhcienlly ob- 
Wioiis, I liave I'orborne to nolice. 

+ — - — — liiit to her, 

I have lived as I was bom, &c.] i. e. except.- <he word 
occari! in this seuee lu many other pldces. 



Will by the world be. to thy shame, spoke often: 

But for that ribald, who held in my empire 

The next ])Iace to myself, so bound unto me 

By all the ties of duty and allegiance, 

He shall pav dear foi't. and feel what it is. 

In a wrong of such high consequence, to pull down 

His lord's slow anger on him! — Philanax. 

He's troubled with flie-gout, let him be cured 

With a violent death, and in the other world 

Thank his physician. 

Phil. His cause unheard, sir? 

Pill. Take heed of rashness. 

Thco. Is what I command 
To be disputed ? 

Phil. Your will shall be done, sir : 
But that I am the instrument 

Theo. Do you murmur? [Kiit Phil, trifh Guard, 
What couldst thou say, if that my license should 
Give liberty to thy tongue? [Eiutocia kn<>eiiug fiointt 
to Tlifodosius' sword.^ thou wouldst die? 
I am not 
So to be reconciled. See me no more : 
The sting of conscience ever gnawing on thee, 
A long life be thy punishment! \_Ejit. 

Flac. O sweet lady. 
How I could weep for her ! 

Arcad. Speak, dear madam, speak. . 
Your tongue, as you are a woman, while you live 
Should be ever moving, at the least, the last part 
That stirs about you. 

Ptil. Though 1 should, sad lady. 
In policy rejoice, you, as a rival 
Of my greatness, are removed, compassion, 
Since I believe you innocent, commands me 
To mourn your fortune ; credit me, I will urge 
All arguments I can allege that may 
Appease the emperor's fury. . 

Arcad. 1 will gr«v too, 
Upon my knees, unless he bid me rise, 
And swear he will forgive you. 

Flac, A nd repent too : 
All this pother for an apple! 

[^Eieiint Putcheria, Arcadia, and FlacciUa. 

Chru. Hope, dear madam. 
And yield not 'o despair ; I am still your servant, 
And never will forsake you, though awhile 
You leave the rouri and city, and give way 
To the violent jiassions of t^e emperor. 
Repentance, in his want of you, will soon find him. 
In the mean time, I'll dispose of you, and omit 
No opportunity that may invite him 
To see his error. 

End. Uh! [^Wringing her ha nda, 

Chry, Forbear, for heaven's sake. \^Exeunt, 



Scene I 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



SOT 



ACT V. 



SCENE I.— A Room in Paulinus' House. 

Enter Philanax, Paulinus, Guard, and 
Executioners. 

Paul. This is most barbarous ! how have you lost 
All feeling (Sf humanity, as honour, 
In your consent alone to have me used thus ? 
But to be, as you are, a looker on. 
Nay, more, a principal actor in't (the softness 
Of your former life consider'd j, almost turns me 
Into a senseless statue. 
' Phil. Would, long since. 

Death, by some other means, had made you one, 
That you might be less sensible of what 
You liave, or are to suffer ! 

Paul. Am to suffer ! 
Let such, wliose happiness and heaven depend 
Upon their present being, fear to part with 
A fort they cannot long hold ; mine to me is 
A charge that I am weary of, all defences 
By pain and sickness batter'd : — yet take heed. 
Take heed, lord Philanax, that, for private spleen, 
Or any false-conceived grudge against me, 
(Since in one thought of wrong to you I am 
Sincerely innocent), you do not that 
My royal master must in justice punish, 
If you pass* to your own heart thorougli mine ; 
The murder, as it will come out, discover'd. [me, 

Phil. 1 murder you, my lord ! heaven witness for 
With the restoring of your healtli, 1 wish you 
Long life and happiness : for myself, 1 am 
Compell'd to put in execution that 
Whicli I would fly from ; 'tis the emperor, 
The high incensed emperor's will, commands 
What 1 must see perform'd. 

Paul. The emperor! 
Goodness and innocence guard me! wiieels nor 

racks 
Can force into my memory the remembrance 
Of the least shadow of oftience, with which 
I ever did provoke him. '1 hough beloved 
(And yet the people's love is short and fatal), 
I never courted popular a[)plause, 
Feasted the men of action, or labonr'd 
By prodigal gifts to draw the needy soldier, 
The tribunes or centurions, to a faction. 
Of whicli 1 would rise up the head against him ; 
1 hold no place of strength, fortress, or castle, 
In my command, that can give sanctuary 
To nialecontents, or countenance rebellion. 
I have built no palaces to face the court. 
Nor do my followers' braveries shame his train ; 
And though I cannot blame my fate for want, 
My competent means of life deserve no envy ; 
In what, then, am 1 dangerous? 

Phil. His displeasure 
Reflects on none of those particulars 
Which you have mentioned, though some jealous 

princes 
In a subject cannot brook them. 

• If you pass to yoxiT own heart thorough mine ;] Mr. M. 
Masoii iii>trts.vo btmre )i>ii: wliiili inhirtsljoth llie >ense aii<l 
tlie imtif. Wiis lie nut await' tlut ihorouyh, or thoruw, as 
thv qiurtu has it, is a tli^syllablt: { 



Paul. None of these ! 
In what, then, nm I worthy his stispicion? 
But it may, nay it must be, some informer. 
To whom my innocence appear'd a crime. 
Hath poison'd his late good opinionof me. 
'lis not to die, but, in the censure of 
So good a master, guilty, that afflicts me. 

Phil. There is no remedy. 

Paul. No ! — 1 have a friend yet. 
To whom the state I stand in now deliver'd 
(Could the strictness of your warrant give way to 

it). 
That, by fair intercession for me, would 
So far prevail, that, my defence unheard, 
I should not, innocent or guilty, suffer 
Without a fit distinctior.. 

Phil. These false hopes, 
My lord, abuse you. What man, when condemn'd. 
Did ever tind a friend ? or who daies lend 
An eye of pity to that star-cross'd subject 
On whom his sovereign frowns t 

Paul. She that dares plead 
For innocence without a fee, the empress, 
My great and gracious mistress. 

Phil. There's your error. 
Her many favours, which you hoped should make 

you, 
Prove your undoing. She, poor lady, is 
Banish'd for ever, from the emperor's presence, 
And his confirm'd suspicion, to his wrong. 
That you have been over-familiar with her, . 
Dootns you to death. 1 know you understand me. 

Paul. Over-familiar ! 

Phil. In sliaring with him * 
Those sweet and secret pleasures of his bed 
Which can admit no partner. 

Paul. And is that 
The crime for which I am to die 1 of all 
My numerous sins, was there not one of weight 
Enougli to sink me, if he borrow'd not 
'J he colour of a guilt I never saw. 
To paint my innocence in a defbrm'd 
And monstrous shape ? but that it were profane 
To argue heaven of ignorance or injustice, 
I now should tax it. Had the stars that reign'd 
At my nativity such cursed influence. 
As not alone to make me miserable, 
But, in the neighbourhood of her goodness to me, 
To force contagion upon a lady. 
Whose purer flames were not inferior 
To theirs when they shine brightest! to die for her. 
Compared with what she suffers, is a trifle. 
By her example warn'd, let all great women 
Hereafter throw pride and contempt on such 
As truly serve them, since a retribution 
In lawful courtesies is now styled lust ; 
And to be thankful to a servant's merits 
Is grown a vice, no virtue. 
Phil. These complaints 
Are to no purpose : think on the long flight 
Your better part lOust make. 

Paul. She is prepared : ^ 

Nor cnn the freeing of an innocent " 

From the emperor's furious jeulousy hinder her. 



i08 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act V 



— It shall out, 'tis resolv'd ; but to be wliisper'd 
To you alone. What a soletna preparation 
Is made hereto put forth uii inch ot taper* 
In itself almost extin'^uisli'd ! morial poison ! 
The lianojinan's sword ! t!ie Iialter ! 

Phil. 'Tis left to vmi 
To make choice of "-hich you please. 

Paul. Any will serve 
To take away my gout and life together. 
I would not have I lie emperor imitate 
Rome's monster, Nero, in that cruel mercy 
He show'd to Sen -ca. When you have discharged 
What you are trusted with, and I have given you 
Rea-iOiis beyond all doubt or disputation, 
^f the empress' and my innocence ; when I am dead 
Since 'tis my master's pleasure, and high treason 
''n you not to obey Tt), I conjure you, 
By the hopes you have of hapjiiness hereafter. 
Since mine in this world are now parting from me. 
That you would win the young man to repentance 
Of the wrong done to his chaste wife, Eudocia, 
And if perciiance he shed a tear for what 
In his rashness he imposed on his true servant. 
So it cure him of future jealousy, i 

'Twill prove a precious balsamum, and find me 
When I am in my grave. — Now, when you please. 
For I am ready. 

Phil. His words work strangely on me. 
And I would do, but I know not what to think on't. 

\_Eieunt. 



SCENE 11.—^ Room in the Palace. 

Enter Pulcheria, Flaccilla, Arcadia, Timantus, 
GnAiiAN'us, and ChHvsapius. 

PuZi^ Still in his sullen mood ? no intermission 
Of his melantholy fit? 

Tim. It rather, madam, 
Increases, than graws less. 

Glut. In the next room 
To his bedchamber we watch'd ; for be by signs 
Gave us to understatid he would admit 
Nor com;ianv nor conference. 

Pul. Did he take 
No rest, as you could guess? 

Chrij- Not anv, madam. 
Like a Numidian lion, by the cunning 
Of the desperate huntsman taken in a toil, 
And forced into a spacious cage, he walks 
About his chamber ; we might hear him gnash 
His teeth in rage, whicii open'd, hollow groans 
And murmurs issued from his lips, like winds 
Imprison'd in the caverns of the earth 
Striving for liberty : and sometimes throwing 
His body on his bed, tiien on the ground. 
And witii sucli violence, that we more than fear'd. 
And siill do, if the tempest of his passions 
By your wisdom be not laid, he will commit 
Some outrage on himself. 

Pill. His better angel, 
I hope, will stay him from so foul a mischief; 
Nor shall my care be wantino-. 

Tim. Twice 1 heard Lim 
Say. False Eudnciu, how much art thou 
Unworthy of these tears ! then sigh'd, and straight 

W • to put forth an inch of taper] i. e. 

10 put out. Fotth, (or out, occurs continually in our old 
writers. 



Roar'd out, Pnitlinits! was his gouty n<re 
To he prejerr'd before mi/ strength and i/outh ? 
Then groan'd again, so many wavs expressing 
The afflictions of a tortured soul, that we. 
Who wept in vain for what we could not help, 
Were sharers in his sufferings. 

Pul. J'hough your sorrow 
[s not to be condeinu'd, it takes not from 
riie burthen of his miseries : we must practise, 
With some fresh object, to divert his thoughts 
From that they are wholly fix'd on. 

Chrii, Could I gain 
The freedom of access, I would present him 
Wit!) this petition.— Will your highness please 
'J'o look u[)on it : you will soor< find there 
What my intents and hopes are. 

Enter Theodosios. 

Grat. 'Ha .' 'tis he. 

Pul. Stand close, 
And give way to his passions; 'tis not safe 
To stop them in their violent course, before 
They have spent themselves. 

Then. I i)lay tiie fool, and am 
Une!|ual* to myself : delinquents are 
To suffer, not the iDUocent. I have done 
Nothing, which will not hold weight in the scale 
Of my impartial justice ; neither feel I 
The worm- of conscience upbraiding me 
For one black deed of tyranny ; wherefore then, 
Should I torment myself! Great Julius would not 
Rest satisfied that his wife was free from fact, 
But, only for suspicion of a crime. 
Sued a divorce ; nor was this Roman rigour 
Censured as cruel : and still the wise Italian, 
That knows the honour of his famdy 
Depends upon the purity of his bed. 
For a kiss, nay, wanton look, will plough up mis- 
chief. 
And sow the seeds of his revenge in blood. 
And shall I, to whose power the law's a servant, 
That stand accountable to none, for what 
My will calls an offence being compell'd. 
And on such grounds, to raise an a. tar to 
l\Iy anger ; though, I grant, it is cemented 
With a loose strumpet and adulterer's gore. 
Repent the justice of my fury ? No. 
I should not : yet still my excess of love. 
Fed high in the remembrance of her choice 
And sweet embraces, would persuade me that 
Connivance or remission of her fault. 
Made warrantable by her true submission 
For lier offence, might be excuseable, t 

Did not the cruelty of my wounded honour, 
With an open mouth, deny it. 

Pul. I approve of 
Your good intention, and I hope 'twill prosper. — 

[To Chrysapius 
He now seems calm: let us, upon our knees. 
Encompass him. — Most royal sir 

Flac. Sweet brother 

Arcad. As you are our sovereign, by the ties of 
nature 
You are bound to be a father in your care 
To us poor orphans. 

Tim. Show compassion, sir, 
Unto yourself. 



* Tlioo. / pla;/ the fool, and am 
Unequal to myself; i.e. uujosU 



:enf. hi.] 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST 



S<h 



Grat. The majesty of your fortune 
Should fly iibove tlie reach of grief. 

Clirij. And 'tis 
Impair'd, if yoa yield to it, 

Theo. W lierefore pav you 
This adoration to a sinful creature*? 
I am flesh and blood, as you are, sensible 
Of heat and cold, as much a slave unto 
The tyrannj' of my j)assions, as the meanest 
Of my poor subjects. 'I he proud attributes, 
By oil-iongued flattery imposed upon us, 
As sacred, glorious, high, invincible. 
The deputy ol heaven, and in that 
Omnipotent, wiili all false titles else, 
Coin'd to abuse our frailty, though compounded, 
And by 'he breath of sycophants applied. 
Cure not the least fit of an ague in us. 
We may give poor men riches, confer honours 
On undeservers, raise, or ruin such • 

As are beneath us, and, wilh this pufF'd tip, 
Ambition would persuade us to (orget 
That we are men . out He that sits above us. 
And to whom, at our utmost rate, we are 
But pageant properties, derides our weakness: 
In me, to whom you kneel, 'tis most apparent. 
Can [ call b.ick ye^terday, with all their aids 
1 hat bow unto my sceptre? or restore 
Rly mind to that tiiinciuillity and peace 
It then eiijov'd ? — Can If make Eudocia chaste, 
Or vile I'aulinus honest? 

Pi//. If 1 might, 
Without ott'ence, deliver my opinion 

Then. \\ hat would you say ? 

Pid. That, on my soul, the empress 
Is innocent. 

C/iri/ I'he good Paulinus guiltless. 

Grat. And this should yield you comfort. 

Theo. In being guilty 
Of an offence far, iar transcending that 
They stand condemn'd i'or! Call you this a comfort? 
Suppose It could be true, — a corsivej rather, 
Not to eat out dead flesh, but putrify 
What yet is >ound. Was murder ever held 
A cure for jealousy? or the crying blood 
Of innocence, a balm to take away 
Her festering anguish ? As you do desire 
I should not do a justice on myself. 
Add to the proofs by which Pauhnus fell, 
And not take from them ; in your charity 
Sooner believe that they were false, than I 
Unrighteous in my judgment? subjects' lives 
Are not their prince's tennis-balls, to be bandied 
In sport away : ail-that I can endure 
For them, if they were guilty, is an atom 



• Theo. Wherefore pay yon 

This adoration to a sinful creature"}] In tliis fine speecli 
Massingcr lias vhiUiikI to measure weapons wilh Shnk- 
ipeare, and, if I may trust my jiulgmenl, not unsuccess- 
fully. The feelings, indeed, are more interested by the 
latter, but that aiises from the aituatiou of his cliief cha 
racter. 

t Can I make Eudocia chatte,] The quarto 

has — Can it make. For the present ita<liiig 1 unanswerable. 

{ — Call you this a comfort z" 

Suppose it could be true, — a corsive rather. 
Not to eat out dead flesh, &c.] Our ohl writers used 
eorsive or corrosive Indilterenlly, as it suited liie verfC ; and 
I should make no dilhcully of regulating the measuie ac- 
cordingly, in defiance of the vicious rpelliiig of the early 
copies. In llie next line, for — to eat out, wliii h was lliu 
phraseology of iht times, ami perfectly coiiect, the modern 
tJitors abouii.ly read- ~to eat our dead flesh I 

23 



To ilie mountain of affliction I puU'd en ine, 

Should they prove innocent. 

Chn/. Vov vuur majesty's peace, 
I inoie than ii.ipe they were not; the false oath 
Ta'eii by the empress, and for which she can 
Plead no excuse, convicted her, and yields 
A sure defence for youi suspicion of her. 
And yet to be resolved, since strong doubts are 
More grievous, for the most part, than to know 
A lertaiii loss 

I heo. 'lis true, Chrysapius, 
Were there a possible means. 

Chrt). 'lisuffer'd to you, 
If you please to embrace it. Some few minutes 
iMake truce wilh passion, and but read, uniI follow 
\\ hat's there luojected — [^Deliuers liim a pu/)ej'.],- 

Vou .•.hall find a key 
Will make y.'Ur entrance easy, to di-.cover 
Her se' ret thoughts ; and then, as in your wisdom 
^ oil shall think fit, you niav deiennine of her j 
And r< st coiihnn'il, whether Pauliiiu.-. ilied 
A villain or a martyr. 

Theo. it may do, 
Nay, sure it must; yet, howsoe'er it fall ; 
1 am nmst wretched. Which way in my wi lies 
1 should* fashion the event, I'm so disiiacted 
I cannot yet resolve of. — Follow me ■, 
Though in my name all names ate comprehended, 
1 must have witnesses in what degreu 
I have done wrong, or s-uiferd. ". 

Put. Hope the best, sir. [Eieunf 



SCENE III. — Another Room in ihe same. 

Ei.ter J'l'DOCiA in iachctoth, her hnir loose. 

[Sings,] Whi) art thou slow, ihoa rest of tr^nilAe, Death, 

To sto}) a wretch's breath, 
Thiit coth on thee, and oj^Ws her sufl heart 

A pre'i unio t/il/ dart 1 
1 am nor ijoung norjuir; be, therefore, hold: 

boriow liutli mode me old, 
Dejorni d, and wrinkled ; all that I can craie, 

.'.<■ qiiret in my (i,rave. 
iiuch m lire hupiiu, hold long life a jewel ; 

But to me thmi art cruel. 
If lh"u end not my tedious rnisery ; 

And I i>«o'i cense to be. 
Sirihe, and strike home, then ; pity unto me, 

In one short hour's delay, is tyranny. 

'i'hus, like a dying swan, to a sad tune 

I sing my own dirge ; would a requiem follow, 

Which ill my pi-nitence I despair not of 

( Ibis brittle glass of life already broken 

V\iih misery), the long and quiet sleep 

Of deatii would be most welcome !— 'i'et before 

We end our pilgrimage, "tis fit that we 

Should leave coiruption and foul sins beliind us. 

But wilh wash'd feet and hands, the heathens dare 

not 
Enter their profane temples : and for me 
To hope my passage to eternity 
Can be made easy, till 1 have shook ofT 



• IJ hich way in my wishes 

I AuoiUfajihionthe event,] JVlr.M. Mason utnn> should, which 
reduces Ilie (,assage to nonsense ; but, in his i^ieat care foi 
the iinriiy of his aiiihor's language, alters, mine nexl line, 
— resolve of. to res'dve on ! It is much to be ngietlcd that 
liii .iii.'iiety should appear so often iu the wrong place. 



SIO 



THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



[Act V. 



■(lie burthen of my sins in free confession. 
Aided with sorrow and repentance for them, 
Is against reason. ' lis not laying by 
My royal ornaments, or putting on 
This garment of humility and contrition. 
The tlnowing dust and ashes on my head, 
],on<'- fists to tame my proud flesh, that can make 
Atonement for my soul ; that must be humbled, 
All outuaid signs of penitence else are useless. 
Chrvsapius did assure me he would bring me 
A holy man, from whom (having discover'd 
■^y secret crying sitis^ I miglit receive 
'jiU absolution — and he keeps his word. 

Enter Theodosius disguised as a Friar, with 

ClIRYSAPIUS. 

Welcome, most reverend sir, upon my knees 
1 entertain vou. 

Theo. i\ oble sir, forbear 
The place ; the sacred office that I come for 

[Exit Chrysapius- 

Commands all privacy. My penitent daughter. 
Be careful, as you wisli remission from me. 
That, in confession of your sins, you bide not 
One crime, whose ponderous weight, when you 

would make 
Your fliglits above the firmament, may sink you. 
A foolish modesty in concealing aught, 
Is now far worse than impudence to profess 
And justify your guilt ; be therefore free ! 
So mny the gates of mercy open to you! 

Ell*/. First then, I iisk a pardon, for my being 
Ingrateful to heaven's bounty. 

'I'heo. A good entrance. 

Eiul. Greatness comes from above, and I, raised 
to it 
From a low condition, sinfully forgot 
From whence it came ; and, looking on myself 
In the false glass of flattery, I received it 
As a debt due to my beauty, not a gift 
Or favour from the emperor. 

Theo. 'Twas not well. 

End. Pride waited on unthank fulness; and no 
more 
Remembering the compassion of the princess, 
And tlie means she used to make me what I was. 
Contested with her, and with sore eyes seeing 
Her greater light as it dimm'd mine, 1 practised 
To have it quite put out. 

Theo. A great offence ; 
But, on repentance, not unpardonable. 
Forward. 

Eud. O, father! — what I now must utter, 
I fear, in the delivery will destroy me. 
Before you have absolved me. 

Then. Heaven is gracious ; 
Out with it. 

Eud. Heaven commands us to tell truth, 
Yet I, most sinful wretch, forswore myselC 

Theo. On what occasion ? 

End. Quite forgetting that 
.\n innocent truth can never stand in need 
Of a guilty lie, being on the sudden ask'd 
By the emperor, my husband, for an apple 
Presented by him, I swore I had eaten it; 
When my grieved conscience too well knows I 

sent it 
To comfort sick Paulinus, being a man 
I truly loved and favoured. 



Theo. A cold sweat, 
Like tiie juice of hemlock, bathes me. \_Asidtt 

End. And from this 
A furious jealousy getting possession 
Of the good emperor's heart, in liis rage be doom'd 
Tiie innocent lord to die ; my perjury 
The fatal cause of murder. 

Theo. Take heed, daughter, 
You niggle* not with your conscience, and religion* 
In styling him an innocent, from your iear 
And shame to accuse yourself. The emperor 
Had many spies upon vou, saw such graces, 
VVliich virtue could not warrant, shower'd upon bim ; 
Glances in public, and more liberal favours 
In your private ciiamber-mi-etings, making way 
For foul adultery ; nor could he be 
But sensible of the com]>act pass'd between you. 
To the ruin of his iionour. 

Eud. Ilear me, fathei ; 
I look'd for comfirt, but, in this, you come 
To add to my afflictions. 

Theo. ('ause not you 
Your own damnation, in concealing that 
Which may, in your discovery, find forgiveness. 
Open your eyesS ; set heaven or liell before you i 
In the revealing of tlie truth, you sliall 
Prepare a palace for your soul to dwell in 
Stored with celestial blessings ; whereas, if 
You palliate your crime, and dare beyond 
Plaving with lightning, in concealing it. 
Expect a dreadful dungeon tilled with horror, 
And never-ending torments. 

Eiul. May they fall 
Eternally upon me, and increase. 
When that which we call Time hath lost its name ! 
May liglitning cleave the centre of the eartli, 
And I sink cjuick, before vou have absolved me, 
Into the bottomless abyss, it ever, 
In one unchaste desire, nay, tn a thought, 
I wrong'd tlie honour of the emperor's bed '. 
I do deserve, I grant, more than I suffer. 
In tliat my fervour and desire to please him, 
In my holy meditations press'd ujion me. 
And would not be kept out; now to dissemble, 
When 1 shall suddeidy be insensible 
Of what the world speaks of me, were mere mad- 
ness ; 
And, though you are incredulous, I presume, 
If, as 1 kneel now, my eyes swoU'n with tears. 
My Iiands heaved up thus, my stretch'd heart-strings 

ready 
To break asunder, my incensed lord 
(His storm of jealousy blown o'er) should hear me. 
He would believe 1 lied not. 

Theo. Rise, and see him [^Discovers himself. 

On his knees, with joy affirm it. 

End. Can this be ! 

Theo. iMy sisteFs, and the rest there !— All bear 
witness, 

Enter Pulcheria, Arcadia, Flaccilla, CnnvSA- 
Pius, Ti-MANTUS, and Philanax. 

In freeing this incomparable lady 



• The. Take heed, daughter. 

You iiii;nle not with your consctence,] i. c. trifle, plajh 
with it ; iliis is tlii.' ciiil mmisc of ihe wmil : its proper iiuan 
ill" is, to (Itciivf, to draw out ^ul•r^■plilioll^ly, &;c. 'J'hiii^ 
ill 'Ihe Honest llhore, I'ait II.: "1 had liui one poor 
pfiiiiy, and tliat I was glad to niyyie out, and buy a IioUt 
Waud to j;iait: liiiii tUi'oui;U tlie streets." 



SCFNE III.] 



TIIR EMPKROR OF I UK EAST. 



3n 



From tlie suspicion of o'uilt. 1 tlo 
Accuse invselt", ami willinsjlv submit 
To niiv penance slie in justice sliatl 
Plfii.se to impose u])on nie. 

/•'«(/. Uoviil sir, 
Your ill opinion of ma's soon forgivf'n. 

FhL But how you can make satisfaction to 
The poor Fauliuus, he beiiifc dead, in reason 
Vou must conclude im|)ossible. 

'I'heo. And in that 
I am most miserable; the ocean 
Of jiiy, which, in vour innocence, flow'd hitjh to me, 
Ebb-^ in the thought of mv unjust command, 
by which he died. O, Philanax (as thv name 
Interpreted speaks thee), thou hast ever been 
A lover of the king, and thy wiiole life 
Can witnejis thy obedience to my will, 
In putting that in execution which 
Was trusted to thee ; say but yet this once, 
Thou hast not done what rashly I commanded, 
And that Paulinus lives, and thy reward 
For not performing that which 1 ei.joii. "d thse, 
Shall centuple whatever yet thy duty 
Or merit challenged from me. 

Phil. Tis too late, sir : 
He's dead ; and, when you know he was unable 
To wrong you in the way that vou suspected, 
You'll wish it had been otherwise. 

Thco, Unable ! 

Phil. I am sure lie was an eunuch, and might 
safely 
Lie bv a virgin's side; at four years made one, 
'I'hough, to iiold grace with ladies, he conceal'd it. 
The circumstances, and tlie manner how, 
You may hear at better leisure. 

Theo. How, an eunuch ! 
The more the proofs are that are brouglit to clear 

thee. 
My best I^udocia, the more my sorrows. 

End. That I am innocent'' 

Theo. That 1 am guilty 
Of murder, my Euducia. T will build 
A glorious monument to his memory ; 
And, for my punishment, live and die upon it. 
And never more converse with men. 

Enter Paulinus. 

Paul. Live long, sir! 
May I do so to serve vou ! and, if that 
I live does not disjjlease you, you owe for it 
To this good lord. 

Theo. Myself, and all that's mine. 

Phil. Your pardon is a payment. 

Theo. 1 am rajit 
With jov beyond myself. Now, my Eudocia, 
My jealousy puff'd away thus, in this breath 
i scent the natural sweetness. [Kisses her. 

Arcad. Sacred sir, 
I am happy to behold this, and ])resume. 
Now you are pleased, to move a suit in which 
My sister is join'd with me. 

Theo. Prithee speak it; 
For I have vow'd to hear before I grant; — 
I thank your good iiistnictions. [To Pnlcheria. 

A I cad. 'lis but this, sir: 
We have observed the falling out and in 
Between the husband and the wife siiows rarely ; 
Theii jars and reconcilements strangely take us. 

Fine. Anger and jealousy that conclude in kisses 
Is a sweet war. in ^oolh. 



A read. We tlierefure, brother. 
Most liumlily beg yiiu would provide Uo husbands. 
That we may taste the I'leasure oft. 

f'liic. And with speed, sir; 
For so your f ivour's doubled. 

I heo. lake mv word, 
I will with all convenience ; and not blush 
Hereafter to he guided bv your counsels: 
1 will deserve your pardon. Philanax 
Shall be remetiiber'd, and magnificent bountiei 
Fall on Chrysa|)ius ; my grace on all. 
Let Cleoii be deliver'd. and rewarded. 
My grace on all, which as I lend to you. 
Return your vows to heaven, that it may pleaae. 
As it is gracious, to quench in me 
All future sparks of burning jealousy. [Esxunt, 

EPILOGUE. 

We have reason to be doubtful, whether he. 
On whom (forced to it from necessity) 
'J"h« mak«>rd!'l c/nfer his emperor's part, 
linth given you satisfaction, in his art 
Of action and delivery ; 'tis sure truth, 
The burthen was too heavy for his youth 
To undergo : — but, in his will, we know. 
He was not wanting, and shall ever owe. 
With his, our service, if your favours deign 
To give liiin strength, hereafter to sustain 
A greater weight. It is your grace that can 
In your allowance of this, write him man 
Before his tune; which if you please to do, 
You make the player and the poet too*. 



•There is soniucli sterling merit in severalof the inriients 
and characters of this play, that the reailer is iacliiied to 
oveihiok the want of iiiiiiy in the story itself. It ii true, 
Massinger seems to have been consci.ms of this defect, and 
lias endeavoured to remedy it liy cuiitriving an early intro- 
duction of Athenais, and hy givini; her some slii^ht comiec. 
tion with Paulinus ; for this is carefully remembered in the 
last act, as one of the cirriiinstances whii h justify llie jea- 
lousy of Tlu'odo.'ius. But the chief and characteristic event 
can hardly be said to bc^iii till the fourth act. Most of the 
preceding scenes are a series of conversations and incidenig, 
rather illustr.ttive of some of the characlers, than necesBary 
to the snhjecl : previous in the order of hi-lory. hot not 
strictly preparatory to the plot ; more occupied wiih the 
public inlUience of Pulclieria, thiu with the |uivate allection 
of ludocia. 

This reservation beinc; made, we cannot but admire the ge- 
nuine dignity with which the government and personal »ir- 

Ines of tile Protecirejs are am liceil, and the inleiestin;; 

contrast of the l)eautiful but li^hler Ath<'nais. TUeoilosiu.- li 
eonneclcd with both ; and is described with much fidelity ol 
nature in every situation. His characieristic qual ty ij 
weakness. His implicit obedience to his sister during 
along pupilage; his escape fiom it through the tiileresteij 
persuasions of others; his facility, profusion, and uxorious 
snl>je<lion to Eudocia, are true marks of the same cha- 
r.icter. Nor are they contradicied by the vehemence into 
wliiih he falls in ihe l.isi"ait. Indeed, during this pa- 
roxysm lie acts with a po-.ver apparently beyond liinuelf. 
He accumulites circumstances of jealousy with much force 
and qtiickiiess. With a melancholy ingenuiiy, he perverta 
the consolations of his friends into new proofs of his guilt j 
and he compels the most innocent thonghts of otlii rn to wear 
the siamp of his own mailnes . Still this is the vehemence 
of Tlieodosiiis. His fury is the mere etlect of ii\oriousi.ess 
disappointed. He is enraged, not th.it hi- honour is tar- 
nished (for this he would fondly overlook), but that he hits 
lokt Ihe possession of Riidocia. It is the viry impolenrc of 
his mind whicli lends him a moment.iry vigour ; and all his 
apparent power is founded on his con-titiitional failing. Irt 
the confes-i .11 scenelie quickly loses his ..s-tiiiied cli.iracter 
in the anxious liiibind ; and at the a>'.ertion of her inno- 
cence, he r'lshes to his reconcilement with an eigLiin.i* 
which sh.'ws his true disposition, and renews all Ihe ascen- 
dancy of her eh rins. 

It is to be wished that this great merit were not accom- 



Slf 



THK EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 



panied with serious fclcmltlu-s ; Imt sometimes tlic manners 
at Massinger's age are llirust, witli more tlian tlieir usual 
ill ett'oct. into the history lA' Tlieoilosius ; and somttimes his 
hesi ch^ractera aie needlessly debased. Pulclieria falls into 
•n improper discussion of modern levities with the Infor- 
mer, &c. Her sisters, contriry to the history of their time, 
«re described as wanton, and rebellious a<.;ainst her antho- 
rily : nor is there an object fortius change of rharacter ; 
they are merely degraded. The Countryman equals the 
judgment of Theodosius with the Sunday maxims of the 
iricar of his parish ; and Theodosius himself, pure and re- 
ligious as Massinger really meant to represent him, loses 
bis deli'-acy ; and when he has to choose a wife from the 
portraits of the candidates, enlarges upon their properties 
with the licentiousness of an experienced debauche. It is 
observable, that in one part ot this scene an attention to 
the court bursts out. Theodosius is impatient timt he must 
jnilge the "substance" of tlie ladies " by the shadow," and 
demands to sec them " with his own eyes." Perhaps the 
king was not displeased at the compliment bestowed by a 
Greek emperor on the notable project of courting the 
Spanish princess. 

A word must be added concerning the sources from which 
Massinger has drawn his story. Coxeter brieHy informs us 
that the plot is taken from liie 7Ih book of Socrates, and 
the flth ot Thcodoret : and Mr. M. Mason neither cunhrnis 
nor disproves this intelligence. But what is the plot? 
Arcadia truly calls it, 

" the falling out and in 

Between the hnsb.ind and the wife " 

aid of the quarrel and reconrjienient of Theodosius and 
KHdocia, the two writeri referred to say not a word I It is 



not ei'ough that they mention other cirrumsiances of 
Alhenais, and cilebrale the virluts of Theodosius and nis 
sisters. The plot is slill to be sought for : and Sozomen, 
the other princiiial historian of tliat age, is as silent as tlie 
authorities of Ooxeti-r. It will only be fonnd in llie later 
chroniclers. It does not appear that lliere is any full ac- 
count of Alhenais earlier than the time ot Mahl.is. Her 
los-e for Paulinns, ttiually handsome and eloquent, is men- 
tioned by (kilrenus ; anil the memorable apple, the cause 
of lii;> death, by Theophanes. Fabr. Hib. Grtec. lib. v. 
c. 1. 

There seems to be some confusion in the dramaiis per- 
sona; of this, as well as of a former historical I'laj — Hainan 
Actor. — Flaccilla is mentioned as one of the younger sisters 
of Theodosius. At all events tris is wrong. Wh.itever tea 
timony there is fur her existence makes her older than 
Pulclieria. But Sozomen, who names ihe rest of the family, 
says nothing of her. And if Philostorgius is to be believed, 
there was no sister of that name: for, in hij account of thfe 
disgrace of Euiropiu.^, he marks the time, by observing, 
that, in order to assist her complaint v/ith Arcadius, she 
carried with her the twu children already born (Pulclieria 
and Arcadia), and that Marina and Theodosius were pro- 
duced after that event. It is possible that the name of 
Marina, omitted by Massiuger from the list of the sisters, 
may have been btstoweil on the waiting-woman of Pnl. 
clicria. If so, it wilt rectify the contusion noticed by the 
editor, Act II. Sc. 1. The "reverend aunt, Maria," who 
assists at ilie b.iptism of Athenais, was perhaps the wife ot 
Honorins, celt bratcd by Claudian. 

In tenui labor— — — D«. Ibelamd. 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



The Fatal Dowry.] This most excellent Tragedy does not appear to have been licensed by Sir H 
Herbert ; nor is it accompanied by any prologue or epilogue ; circumstances from which Mr. Malone con- 
cludes that it was produced previous to 16(^0. However tljis be, it was not printed till 1652, before which 
time, the title-page says, it " hud been often acted at the private house in Blackfriars, by his Majesty's 
servants." 

Massinger was assisted in the writivig of it by Nathaniel Field (of whom some mention is made in the 
Introduction.) This would incline me to adopt the opinion of Mr. Malone; for the author seems to have 
trusted to his own resources after the period here mentioned ; all the pieces licensed by the master of the 
revels being his own composition. 

From this Play Rowc borrowed, or, according to Cicero's distinction, stole, the plan oi The Fair Penitent , 
a performance by which he is now chiefly known. The relative merits of the two pieces are discussed by 
Mr. Cumberland, in the ingenious analysis which follows the present Tragedy ; and which 1 regret that he 
did not pursue to the conclusion, as the superiority of Massinger would have beea still more apparent 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



RocHFonT, ex premier preiident of the parliament of 

Dijon. 
Chahai.ois, a noble gentleman, son to the deceased 

marshal. 
RoMo^T, a brave ifficer, friend to Charalois. 
MovALL senior, premier president of the parliament <f 

Dijon. 
NovALL junior, his son, in love with Beaumelle. 
Du CnoY, president of the pariiament of Dijon. 
CnAnjii, lilt advocate. 
Beai'mont, Secretary to Rochfort. 

PONTALIER, ) ,. . J ,. »T n • 

,, ' ) friends of NovalljKJKor. 

LiLADAM, a parasite, dependent on NovtkW junior.- 



Aymer, a singer, and heiper of a music-houte, aim 

dependent on Novall junior. 
Advocates. 
Three Creditors. 
A Priest. 
Tailor, 
Barber. 
Perfumer. 
Page. 

Beaumelle, daughter to Rochfort. 
Fi.ORiMEL, i servants to Beaumelle; the latter the $0- 
Bellapert, S cret agent of Novall junior. 
Presidents, Captains, Soldiers, Mourners, GaoUr, Ba^ 
liffs, Servants. 



SCENE, Dijon. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— A Street before the Court of Justice. 
Enter Charalois with a paper, Rom ont, and Cuarmi. 

Char. Sir, I may move the court to serve your 
will ; 
But therein shall both wrong you and myself. 

Pom. Why think you so, sir? 

Char. 'Cause I am familiar 
With what will be their answer: they will say, 
' lis against law, and argue me of ignorance, 
For ottering them the motion. 

/?•!;». ^ ou know not, sir. 
How, in this cause, they may dispense with law ; 
And ilierelbre frame not you tlieir answer from them. 
But do your parts. 



Char. I love the cause so well, 
As* I could run the hazard of a theck for't. 

Rom. From whom ? 

Char. Some of the bench, that watch to give it. 
More than to do the office that they sit for : 
But give me, sir, my fee. 

Rom. Now you are noble. 

Char. I siiall deserve tliis better yet, in giving 
My lord soii.e cou'nsel, if he please to hear it. 
Than I shall do with pleading. 



• As / rou!d run, &c.] Former editors— That / cotdd run.. 
I do not love lliis- niodeiiiiing ; by degrees no one will be at 
lowed to speak lUe l<in^uai>e of his age. 



S14 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act I 



Bom. VVbat may it be, sir? 

Char. Tliat it would jileiise his lordship, as the 
prt'sidenfs 
And counseUors of court come by, to stand 
Here, and but show hiinseli*, and to some one 
Or two, m;ike his request : tliere is a minute, 
Wlien a man's ])resence speaks in his own cause, 
Moie than the tongues of twenty advocates. 

Horn. I iiave urged that. 

EiiU'v RocHFORT and Du Croy. 

Char. 'J'lieir lordsliips liere are coming, 
I must go get me a [ihice. Vou'll find me in court, 
And at your st-rvice. [E.tit, 

Bom. Now, put on t vour spirits. 

Z>i«. 0)01/. 1 he ease that yu prepare yourself, my 
In ^-ivin^ up the place vou hold in court, [lord, 

Will prove, I fear, a trouble in the slate. 
And that no slight one. 

Rock. Pray ycu, sir, no more. 

Bom. Now, sir, lose not this offer'd means : their 
Fix'd on vou with a pitying; earnestness, [looks. 

Invite you to demand tiieir iuithera^ce 
To your good purpose : this such a dulness, 
So foolish and untimely, as 

Dit Cioif. Vou know him ? 

lioc'i. 1 do : and mucli lament the sudden fall 
Of this l)iave house. It is young Charalois, 
Son to the marshal, from whom he inherits 
His fame and virtues only. 

Horn. H.i ! they name you 

Du Cri'i/. His father died in prison two day^ since. 

RiM:h. Yes, totheshame of this un-rateful state ; 
That such a master m the art of war. 
So noble and so highly meriting 
From this forgetful country, should, for want 
Of means to satisfy his creditors 
The sums he took up for the general good. 
Meet witii an end so infamous. 

yfom. Dare you ever 
Hope for like opportunity ? 

Du Crou. My good lord ! 

Roch My wish bring comfort to you ! 

Du C/oi/. The time calls us. 

Roch. Good morrow, colonel ! 

[Exeunt Rochfort and Du Croy. 

Pom. 'I'his obstinate spleen, 
Vou ihink, becomes your sorrow, and sorts well 
With your black suits : but, grant me wit or judg- 
And, by the freedom of an honest man, [ment. 

And a true friend to boot, I swear 'tis shameful. 
And therefore flatter not yourself with hope. 
Your sable habit, with the hat and cloak, [them 

No, though the ribands help, have power to work 
To what you would : for those thnt had no eyes 
To see the great acts of your father, will not, 
From any fashion sorrow can put on, 
Be taught to know their duties. 

Chiiral. If they will not. 
They are too old lo learn, and I too young 
I'o give them counsel ; since, if they partake 
The understanding and the hearts of men, 
Tliev will prevent my words and tears : if not, 
What can persuasion, though made eloquent 
With grief, work u|)on sucli as have changed natures 
Wiih the most savage beast] Blest, blest be ever 

• Here, and but shout liimst-lf,] Tliis lias been liitlierto 
prinM\ !.\mw yourself. I'lie iitiissiiy ot the Hluriition will, I 
tl«i«t, be rt-ailily atknowleiliied. 

t K'jni. Now, put on your spirits.] Rouse, ammate 
them. 



The memory of that nap[>y age, whpn justice 
Iliid no guards to keep oil' wrDUg'd innocence 
From Hying (o her suicours, and, in tii.it. 
Assurance of redre-s 1 where* now, Romont, 
'i'he damn'd wiih more ea>e may asc».':id from hell, 
'i'han we arrive at her. One Cerberus then; 
Forbids tiie passage, iu our courts a thousand. 
As loud and ft-rtile-lifadnd ; and the client 
That wants the sops to fi.l their ravenoui throats, 
Must hope for no access : why should 1, then, 
Attempt imjjossib.lities ; you, friend, being 
Too well acquainted with my dearth of means 
To make my entrance that way ? 

Rom. Would 1 were not ! 
But, sir, )0u have a cause, a cause so just, 
Of such iiscessity; not to be deferr'd. 
As would compel a maid, whose foot was never 
Set o'er her fatlier's threshold, nor wiiliin 
i'lie house wliere she was born, ever spake word 
Which was not usher'd with pure virgin blushes, 
'l"o drown the tempest of a pleader's tongue. 
And force corruption to give hack the line 
It took against her. Let examples move you. 
You see men great in birth, esteem, and fortune. 
Rather tiian lose a scruple of their right. 
Fawn basely upon such, whose gowns put off, 
I'hey would disda'ii for servants. 

Choral And to these 
Can I become a suitor? 

Rom. Without loss : 
Would vou CDn.-idev, thatro gain their favours, 
Our chastest dames put off their modesties. 
Soldiers forget their honours, usurers 
Make sacrifice of gold, poets of wii'. 
And men religious jjart with fame and goodness. 
Re therefore won to use the means that m.iy 
Advance your pious ends. 

Charal. ^'«u shall o'eriome. 

Rom. And you receive the glory. Pray you, now 
practise. 

Charal. ' lis wellf. 
Enter NovALL senior, .Advocates, Liladam, and 
three Creditors. 

[Te7iders hU petition.] Not look on me! 

Ro.-n. You must have patience 

Offer it again. 

Charal. And be again contemn'd ! 

Noi'. sen. I know what's to be done. 

1 Cred. And, that your lordship 
Will please to do your knowledge, we offer first 
Our thankful hearts here, as a bounteous earnest 
To what we will add. 

Nov. sen. One word more of this, 
I am your enemy. Am I a man 
Your bribes can work on? ha? 

Lilad. Friends, you mistake 
The way to win my lord ; he must not hear this 
But I, as one in favour in his sight, 
iMay hearken to you for my profit. Sir ! 
Pray hear them. 

• Assurance of redress ! where now, Romont,] So tlie 
qiiario: llie nuKlfiii ediuiis, in llieir rage IVir ivjionnation, 
read. 

Assurance of redress: whereas now Romont, 
which reduces the "line to very homely pmse. /* here for 
«)A?rca» occiiis continually in these pl.iys, and, indeed, in all 
our old writers. 

» Charal. 'Tis well] The.»e two wonls I have given to 
Charalois, to whom lliey oi right belong: they have hilheilo 
been allolied lo Koinont. 



Scene II.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



.'?1.'> 



Nyv. len. It is well. 

I.ilad. Observe him now. 

'Nov. sen. Your cause being good, and your pro- 
ceedings so, 
Without corruption I am your friend ; 
Speak your desires. 

"■J. Cred. Oil, ihey are charitable; 
The ni;irsh:d stood engaged unto us three 
Two hundred thousand crowns, which, by his 

death. 
We are defeated of: for which great loss 
We aim at nothing but his rotten flesh : 
Nor is that cruelty. 

1 Cred. I Jiiive a son 
That t;dk-s of noihing but of guns and armour, 
And swears he'll be a soldier; 'tis an humour 
I would divert liiiii fnim ; and I am told, 
That if I minister to him, in his drink. 
Powder made of this biuikrupt marshal's bones, 
Provided that the carcass rot above ground. 
Twill cure his foolish frenzy. 

Nov. ieii. You show in it 
A falhei's care. 1 have a son myself, 
A fashionable gentleman, and a peaceful; 
And, but 1 am iiss ired he's not so given. 
He should take of it too. 

Chared. Sir ! 

Nov sen. What are you ? 

Charal. A gentleman*. 

Nov. sen. So are many that rake dunghills. 
If you have any suit, move it in court : 
I take no papers in corners. [Eu't. 

Rom. Yes, 
As the matter may be carried, and whereby 
To manage the conveyance. follow him. 

Lilad, Vou are rude : I say he shall not pass. 

[Exeunt Chaiabis and Advocates. 

Rom. You say so ! 
On what assur-.nce? 

For the well cutting of his lordship's corns. 
Picking his toe*;, or any office else 
Nearer to baseness ! 

Lilad, Look upon me better ; 
Are the~e the ensigns of so coarse a fellow ? 
Be well advised. 

Rom, Out, rogue ! do not I know 
These glorious weeds spring from the sordid dung- 
hill 
Of thy officious baseness? wert thou worthy 
Of any thing from me, but my contempt, 
I would do more than this— [Ueats ftim.] — more, 
you court-spider ! 

Lilad, But that this man is lawless, he should find 
That 1 am valiant. 

1 Cred. If your ears are fast, 

'Tis nothing. What's a blow or two! as much. 

2 Cred. J'hese chastisements as useful are as 
fre(|Lient, 

To such as would grow rich. 

Rom, Are they so, rascals? 
I will befriend you, tiien. [Kicks them, 

1 Cred. Bear witness, sirs! 



• Charal .Sir ! 
tiov. sfii. )/ hat are ynu? 

Cliantl A yentleman. So 1 have regulated these speeches ; 
they loiimily moikI thus: 

J if should lake of it too. — .Sir ! what are you f 
Clidial. A yentlfinan. 
I believid that the moilent Char.ilois, encouraged by Romont, 
venturer lo address liimstlf t« Novall. 



Lilad. Truth, I have borne my part alreadv, frlnids. 
In the court vou shall have more. [Li^it, 

Rom, I know you for 
The worst of spirits, tliat strive to rob the tombs 
Of what is their inheritance, the dead: 
For usurers, bred by a riotous peace, 
I hat hold the charter of your wealth and freedom 
By being knaves and cuckolds ; that ne'er ]iray, 
But when you fear the rich heirs will grow wise, 
To keep their lands out of your parchment toils ; 
And then, the devil your father's call'd upon. 
To invent some ways of luxury ne'er thought on. 
Begone, and tjuickly, or I'll leave no room 
Upon your foreheads for your horns to sprout on — 
Without a murmur, or I will undo you. 
For I will beat you lionest. 

1 Cred. Thrift forbid ! 
We will bear this, rather than hazard that. 

[Exeaiit Creditort 
B.e-cutcr CiiAnALOis. 

Rom. I am somewhat eased in this yet. 

Char. Only, friend. 
To what vain purpose do I make my sorrow 
Wait on the triumph of their cruelty ! 
Or teach their pride, from niv humility, 
'Jo think it has o'ercome ? Ihey aie determined 
What they will do ; and it may well become me, 
To rob them of the glory they expect 
From my submiss entreaties. 

l\om. Think not so, ,>:ir: 
The difficulties that you encounter with 
Will crown the undertaking: — heaven! you weep: 
And 1 could do so too, but that 1 know 
'I here's more expected from the son and friend 
Of him whose fatal loss now shakes our natures. 
Than sighs or tears, in which a village nur.-e, 
Or cunning strumpet, when her knave i- haiig'd, 
iVJay overcome us. We aie men, young loid, 
Let us not do like women. To tlie court, 
And there speak like your birth : wukft sleeping 

justice. 
Or date the axe. This is a way will sort 
With what you are : I call you not to that 
I will shrink from myself; I will deserve 
Your thanks, or sutler with you. — O how bravely* 
That sudden fire of anger shows in you ! 
Give fuel to it. Since you are on a shelf 
Of extreme danger, suffer like yourself. [EieuHt 



SCENE II.— 77,e Court of Justice, 

Enter RocHroRT, in'ov.alt. .-enior. Presidents, Charmi 
Do CnoY, Beaumont, Advocates, three Creditors 
and Officers. 

Dii Croij, Your lordships seated, may this meet 
ing prove 
Prosperous to us, and to the general good 
Of Burgundy ! 

Nov. sen . Speak to the point. 

Da Croy. Which is 
With honour to dispose the place and power 
Of jiremier president, which this reverend man, ' 
Crave Rochfort, whom for honour's sake I name. 



• O how bravely, &c.] This Romont is a nolilf fellow. 
Warm, giMenms, liiu;hs|)iriliMl, diiji'.i it^ied, laitlind, and 
arteilioiiaic, his copy, or rallier his .sh.iihju, H<ir,iliu, dwu 
dies iiitu (jei't'ect iiisit;iiilic..iice ou the cuiiiparisou. 



516 



•/(IK FATAL DOWRY. 



Is piir|)0<e(l to ivsiyn ; a place, niv lorJs, 
In wliiili he li;itl) wiili such integrity 
PerfbniiM ilie hr-i and best parts ol a jii(l«^e, 
That, a-i his life trnisceiKls all lair e^aIup;t'S 
Of such as were before liim in Dijon, 
So it refiains to ; lio.se that shall succeed him, 
A prec(^ileiit t'ley may imitate, but not equal*. 
Uorh. 1 iriav not sit to 'sear this. 
Dii Cmii. Let the love 
And thankfulness we are bound to pay to goodness, 
In this o'erconie your modesty. 

Roch. My ti anks 
For this i;reat favour shall prevent your trouble 
The hoiKiuiahle trust that was imposed 
Upon my wnakiiess, since you wiiness for me 
It was Hot ill di^< harged, 1 wdl not mention ; 
Nor now, if ai;e had not dejirived me of • 
The litt e strtimtii 1 had to govern well 
The province that 1 underiook, torsake it. 

Nnv aen. I hat we could lend you of our years ! 
Dm Civil. Or strc-ngth ! 

Nov. se I. Or, as you are, jiersuade you to con- 
tinue 
The noble exercise of your knowing- judgment ! 
Roch. That may not be ; nor can youi' lordships' 
goodness. 
Since your employments have conferr'd upon me 
Sufficient wealth, deny ihe use of it : 
And, though old age, when one loot's in the grave, 
In many, v\|ien all humours else are s|)eiit, 
Feeds no affection in them, but desire 
To add U. ight to ihe mountain of their riches, 
In me it is nut so. 1 rest content 
With the honours and estate 1 now possess : 
And, that I may have liberty to use 
What heaven, still ldes^ing• my poor industry, 
Hatli made me lna^ter of, I prav the court 
To ease me of my burthen, that 1 may 
Employ the small remainder of my life 
In living well, and learning hov/ to"die so. 
Enter lloMONr anil Ciiarai.ois. 
Rom. See, sir, our advocate. 
Dn Cinii. Ihe court enireats 
Your loriiship wdl he jileased to name the man, 
Wliich you would have your successor, and in me. 
All promise to conlirm it. 

Roch. 1 embrace it 
As an assurance ol their favour to me. 
And name my lord jNovall. 
Du Croif. ihe court allows it. 
Roih. hut there are suitors wait here, and their 
causes 
May be of more necessity to be heard ; 
1 thereioie wish that mine may be deferr'd, 
And th>-irs have liearii.g. 

Da Cioi). Ifyour lordship please [To Nov. sen. 
To take the place, we will proceed. 

Char. The cause 
We come to offer to your lordships' censure. 
Is in itself so noble, that it needs not 
Or rhetoric in me that plead, or favour 
From your grave lordships, to determine of it ; 
Since to the jiraise of your inii-artial justice 
(Which guilty, nay, condemu'd men, dare not 
scaiiiial), 

* A preci-dfut tliey may imitate, bat not rijiiul.] So the nld 
«py. C..\.tLr .UH\ Mr. M. M.immi, uiili uqii.il .i.lv.uil.i^u to 
he scn-f ami li.iiinc.iis ol Uit- hjju, ii-.ul, ° 

/I piccfdcnt ilijt they may imitate, bat not equal I 



It will erect a tropliy of your mercy, 
Which married to that justice 

Nor. sen. Sjieak to the cause. 

C/i((r. 1 will, my lord. To say, the lata dead 
marshal, 
'I lie father of ibis young lord here, my client. 
I lath done his country great and faithful service, 
I\light task me of impertinence, to rejieat 
What vour grave lorilsliips cannot but remember, 
lie, in his life, became indobted to 
These thrifty men (1 will not wrong their credits. 
My giving- them the attributes they now merit). 
And failing-, by the fortu::e ot the wars. 
Of means to free himself from his engagements, 
lie was arrested, and, i'oi' want if hail, 
Iniprison'd -at their suit ; and, not long after. 
With loss of liberty, ended his life. 
And, though it be a maxiiU in our laws. 
All suits die with the person, these men's malice 
In deatli fiivls matter lor their hate to work on. 
Denying him the decent rites of burial*, 
W hicli the s'Aorn enemies of tln^ Christian farth 
Cii-.uu freely to their slaves. iMay it therefore please 
Your lordsliips so to fashion vour decree, 
That, what their cruelty doth forbid, your pity 
May give allowance to. 

Nov. snt. How long- have you, sir. 
Practised in court? 

Char. Some twenty years, mv lord. 

Nov. sea. By your gross ignorance, it should ap- 
pear 
N't twenty days. 

Char. I hope I have given no cause 
In this, my lord. . 

Nov. s<in. How dare you move the court 
To the disjiensing with an act confirm 'd 
liy parliament, to the terror ot all bankrupts? 
Go home ; and with more care peruse tiie statutes: 
Or the next motion, savouring of this boldness. 
May force you, sir, to le.ij), against your will, 
Over the [ilace you ])lead at. 

Char. I foresaw this. 

Rom. Why, does your lordship think the moving of 
A cause more honest than tiiis court h-ad ever 
ihe honour to <letermine, can deserve 
A check like this? 

Nov. sen. Strange boldness! 

Horn, 'lis fit freedom : 
Or, do yiiu conclude an advocate cannot hold 
His credit with the judge, unless he study 
His face more than the cause for w:iich he pleads? 

Char. Forbear. 

Rom. Or cannot you, that have the power 

* Denying him the rleccnt rites of burial,] Htrrodotos 
U\U lis tliit As>clii.s, the s;raiiilsuii of Cheops, to f.ii-ilitate 
tlif borrinviiii; of money, alloueil iliu liijypiialis lo (jlcdge 
llie ileail bodies of their parmts. \\liR-li,~iiiilil reiKeiiicd by 
payment of llie Minis ailv.nice ., coaid iiol be di po^iled in 
the sepulchres of llieir f.illiers. In iiiiit.iuon ol this mo- 
ii.irili, modern stales have sam lioneii ilie Jiiie-tol a per- 
son's dead body till his debls be p il : bin what was in Asy- 
cliis A wise iiistitiilion, is in his u.llo«eis a i;raliiiluiis act of 
absurd and savaiie bartiaiily. \Xith t^ie ainienls tlie fate 
of a liuinan bein^ was iioi ileeided by oeaih ; In- emrance 
into u slate of le.-l depended upon a ilue pert', rm.ince of his 
obsequies; and Ins relaiions and nunds «eie, iheielore, im- 
pelled b) llie most powerful ni..iues, lo disehai g'- Ins obli- 
gations, and seal his doiiiii. V\ e, on Ihi conir.uj, know 
from divine autlwrilv, ihat "as ihe tree i.illelli, s,, il must 
lie, ' and ihat iio.iction, subsuipienl lu ,i m.m'o decease, can 
alleet hisdesliny 

^<Jr the w.rt inotinn, savmina'^ of this Ouldness,] So th« 
old copy; the moderns reA<l,J'avuuiiii(j. 



SCEVE IT.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



317 



To qunlifv the ri<!;our of the laws 
When you are pVased, talce a lirtle from 
The stiictii'ess o( y.'ur sour decrees, enacted 
In favour of the gieedy creiiitors, 
Against the o'erthrovvn debtor ? 

Nou. .sen. Sirrah ! vou tiiat prate* 
Thus saiicilv, wliat are vou? 

Rom. Whv, I'll tell tliee, 
Thou purple-colour'd tnan ! I am one to whom 
Thou (iw'st ilie means thou hast of sitting there, 
A corrupt elder. 

Char. Forbear. 

Rom. liie nose tliou wear'st is my gift; and 
tlioie eves, 
Tliat innet no object so base as their master, 
Had been long hince torn fiom that guilty Iiead, 
And iliou thyself slave to si>me needy Swiss*, 
Had I nut worn a sword, and used it better 
Than, in thv j)ravers, thou ever didst thy tongue. 

N'W. sen. Shall such an insolence j)ass unpunish'd! 

Chili: Hear me. 

Rom. Yet I, that, in my service done my country, 
Disdmn to be put in the scale with thee, 
Confess mvsflf unworthy to be valued 
Witli the least part, nav, hair of the dead marshal ; 
Of whose so many glorious undertakings, 
Make choice of any one, and that the meanest, 
Perform'd against the subtle fix of France, 
The politic Louis, or the more desperate Siviss, 
And 'tnill outweigli all tlie good purposes, 
Thouiih put in act, that ever gowumau [jractised. 

Noo. sen. Away with him to prison ! 

Rom. If that cursest. 
Urged justlv, and breath'd forth so, ever fell 
On tliose tiiat did deserve them, let not mine 
Be spent in vain now, that tlinii from this instant 
May:5t, in thy fear that thev will tall upon thee. 
Be sensible of tlie ])lagues they shall bring with them. 
And fur denying of a little earth 
To cover what I'emains of our great soldier. 
May all vour wives prove whores, your factors 

thieves, 
And, while you live, your riotous heirs undo you ! 
And thou, ilie [jatron of their cruelty. 
Of all ihv lordships live not to be owner 
Of so much dung as will conceal a dog. 
Or, wh;it is worse, thyself in ! And tliy vears. 
To th' end thou maysi be wieiciied, 1 wish many; 
And, as tliou hast denied the dead a grave, 
May misery in thy life make thee desire one, 
Which men and all the elements keep from thee! 
^I have begun well ; imitate, exceed. 

[To Charalois, 

Roc'i. Good counsel, were it a praiseworthy deed. 
[Exeunt lijflcers u:ilh Rotnont. 

Du Coij. Remember what we are. 

Cliaiiil. I'hus low my duty 
Answers vour lordshi[)'s counsel. I will use. 
In the few words with which I am to trouble 



• And thmil hi/self slave to some needy Sw'ts^,] It may not 
be aiiii— tootjteive here. Ilia: ]liiri.»nily (in tlie c,i|)ilal Dl' 
w liicli tlie scene is l,ii(l) was a pDwerfiil ami inilepeiiilcnt 
ttatc. Ii iiiiLjIit, perhaps, have coniinniil so, but f..r llie am- 
bitions and deslniciive warfare wliich Ilie last ol its s<>- 
vereigii~ madly larried iin against the ciMilVderated ranloii*. 

+ Rom. If that cur.ii'S,&ic] In this niovt animated -iieirh 
Otway seems imlebled for the im|ireeations wliicli he makes 
(he indii^nint Pierre pour npoii the t;o\ erniiienl of Venice. 

The leader, whom cnriusity may lead to c- pan.' the two 

scenes, will find how much the i op> tails beneath llie orijji- 
aal, uut ouly iu (ielicacy, but in spirit.. 



Your lordships' ears, the temper that you wish me ; 

Not tliat I fear to speak my thoughts, as loud. 

And with a liberty beyond I'omont; 

Hut that 1 know, for me, that tim made up 

Of all thiit's wretched, so to has'e my end. 

Would seem to inost rather a willingness 

To quit the biir'hiii of a hopeless life, 

'than scorn of d.aili, or duty to the dead. 

I, therefore, bring the tribute of mv praise 

'I'o your severity, and commend the justice 

That will not, for the many services 

That any man hath ilone the commonwealth. 

Wink at his least of ills. What, though my father 

Writ man before he was so, and contirm'd it. 

By numbering that day no fiart of bis life. 

In which be did not service to bis cou-itry ; 

Was he to be free, therefore, from the laws 

And ceremonious form in your decrees ; 

Or else, because he did as raucli as man 

In those three memorable over' brows 

At Granson, iMorat, NaticV, where his master*, 

The warlike (111 ir,ih)is (with wliose mi-fortunes 

I bear his name), lost treasure, men, and life, 

To be excused from piymeit of those sums 

Which (his own ])atrimoiiv spent) his zeal 

To serve his country foned him to take up! 

l^ov. sen. The precedent were ill. 

Choral. Anil yet, mv hnd, this much, 
I know, you'll grant; after those great defeatures. 
Which in their dreadful ruins biiired (juick 

Re-enter (Jfficers. 

Courage and hope in all men but himself. 

He forcel the ])roud foe, in his height of conquest, 

'I'o yield unto an honou""able peace ; 

And in it saved an hundred thousand' lives. 

To end his own, that was sure proof a ainst 

The scalding summer's heat, and winter's frost, 

III airs, the cannon, and the enemy's sword. 

In a most loa hsome jirisrin. 

Du Croif. 'I'was his fault 
To be so jirodigal. 

Nou. sen. lie had from the state 
Sufficient entertainiiient for the army. 

Choral. Sufficient, my lords ! You -sit at home, 
And, ihongl. your fees are boundless at the bar. 

Are thrifty in the ihar.es of the war 

But your wills be obev'd. 'I'o these I turn. 
To these soft-he.irted men, that wisely know 
They're only good men that pay what they owe. 

S; Cred. And so they are. 

1 Cred. It is the city doctrine*; 
We stand bound to maintain it. 



* Inthose three memorable overthow? 
At Granson, Moial, Nancy, &c.] I hesc were indted me- 
morable, since they were <;ivi n bv ill-armeil and m.discip. 
lined rnsiics (invii;or iled, indeed,' by tiic calm and tearless 
spirit of uemiine liberty) lo armies snpeiior to themselves in 
numbers, and compos, (I nf rei;iilar troops from some of the 
most warlike nali.Jiis in Europe. The overthrow of (Jratison 
t..ok place March Hd, U7ti ; that of Moral, June 2M, 
in the same vear; ami that of Naiiei;, January ."iili, ll/'7. 
Ill this Charle's (or, as he is here called. IJlia, aloi-) dnt e of 
Bninmidy fell; and the suhlle fo.r of France, Louis XI. 
shorilj after seiz. d upon llie defenceless duchy, and uniled 
it to 1. is own kiiis;dom. 

t It is the city doctrine;] Thus in '/'he .Merchant of Ve- 
nice: — 

" .S'hy. Antonio is a ynod man. 

" /lass. Have you heaiil any imputation to the con- 
trar\ '. ... 

" .S'hi/. No, no, n.i;— my ineaniiii; in savin;; he is a 
(/ood man, is to have yon undeistand lue tint he !•< siijicient.' 



S18 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[ActI 



Charal. Be constant in it ; 
An<l since you are as merciless in your natures, 
As basi- anil mercenary in your means 
By wiiicli yon ijet voiir weallli, I will not urge 
The court to take a-.vay one s niple from 
The rij-lit of their laws, or [wish*] one good thought 
In you t;) mend your dis|iosiiion witli. 
I know tliere is no music to your ears 
So pleasins;- as the groans of men in prison, 
And tliat the tears of widows, and the cries 
Of famish 'd or])haiis, are the feasts that take you. 
That to be in vouf dangerf, with more care 
Should be avoided than infectious air. 
The loathed embraces of diseased women, 
A flatterer's ])oison, or the loss of honour. — 
Yet rather than mv father's reverend dust 
Shall want a ])lac e in that fair monument 
In whit h our noble ancestors lie entomb'd, 
Before the court I ofler up niyself 
A prisoner for it. Load me with those irons 
That have worn out his life ; in my best strength 
I'll run to the encounter of cold, hunger, 
And choose my dwelling where no sun dares enter 
So he may he released. 

1 Creii. What mean you, sir t . 

Adcii. Only your fee again : there's so much said 
Alreadv in this cause, and said so well, 
That, should I only offer to speak in it, 
I should be or not heard, or laugli'd at for it. [back, 

1 Creel. 'I'lsthe lirst money advocate e'er gave 
Though he said nothing. 

liorli. Be advised, voung lord. 
And well considerate; you throw away 
Your liliertv and jovs of life together : 
Your bountv is employed ujion a subject 
That is not sensible of it, with which wise man 
Never ;ibiisrd Ins goodness. The great virtues 
Of your dead father vindicate tliemselves 
From these men's malice, and break ope the prison. 
Though it contain his body. 

Kor. sen. Let him alone : 
If he love coids, in God's name let him wear them ; 
Provideil these consent. 

Chiiral. I hope tliev are n "t 
So igiior.nit intiinv way of pr.fit. 
As to nei;lect a po-sihilitv 
To gel their own, bv seeking it from that 
Whith can letu ii ilieui nothing but ill fame. 
And curses, for their b.irbarous cruelties. 

Cted. \\ hat think ye of the offer .' 

2 Cieil. Very well. 

1 Cred. Accept i; by all means. Let's shut him 

He is wtrll shaped, and has a villanous tongue, 
And, should he study that way of revenge. 
As I (hire almost swear he loves a wench, 
We have no wives, nor never shall get daughters, 
That will h dd out agaitist him. 
Du Cioy. What's your answer '! 

2 Cied. Spe.k you (or all. 

1 Cred. Why, let our executions 

• 77ic ri(j!il nf tlii'ir laws, nr [wi>!il r.ne ymd thouyht 
In yuu, cvc] A ihhihi-jII.iIiIi- lia« (In.pi i.ut at ilit press. 
I have eii(lt:av>iunil 111 v. iii|.lilr tlic inilrc, and, pirliaps, 
the sciisf, b) tlie additinn in biaolvits: il is a IIKit> tli.it 
I scldimi take, anil m'vcr wilhoiii giving the leader no- 
tice lit II. 

r lo be ill your danger.] I. e. lo be in jour 

debl* a coiiiinon expnssiiin in oin nlil wiiiers; ilins Purlia : 
" Vou ^callll within hix danger, dn \ on nut I 

Merchant of Fenice. 



That lie upon the father, be return'd 
Upon the son, and we release the body. 

A'o(). sen. The court must grant you that. 

CIniral. I thank your lordships. 
They have in it condrm'd on me such glory 
As no tim.-: can taj<e from me; I am ready. 
Come, lead me where you please. Cajitivity, 
That comes with honour, is true liberty. 

Fieiint CharaloU, Charrni, Officers, and Creditors, 

Nov. sen. Strange rashness ! 

Roch. A brave resolution rather, 
Worthy a better fori line : b'.it, however. 
It is not now to be disputed ; therefore 
To my own cause. Already I have found 
Your lordships bountiful in your favours to me. 
And that should teach my modesty to end here. 
And j)ress voiir loves no further. 

Da Cray. There is nothing 
The court can grant, but with assurance you 
May ask it, and obtiiin it. 

Roch. You encourage 
A bold petitioner, and 'tis not fit 
Your favours should be lost: besides, 't 'as been 
A custom many years, at the surrendering 
The place I row give up, to grant the president 
One boon, tliat parted with it : and, to confiiin 
Your grace towards me, against all such as may 
Detract my actions and life hereafter, 
I now prefer it to you. 

Dn Crox). Fpeak it freelv. 

Roch. I then desire the liberty of Romont, 
And that my lord Novall, whose private wrong 
Was ecpial to the injury ihai was done 
To the dignity (d'the court, will pardon it, 
And now sign hi^ enlar.einent. 

Nov. yen. Prav you demand 
The moiety of my estate, or any thing, 
Wi hill my |)owev but this. 

Roch. Am 1 denied then 
iMy first and last reipiest ? 

Dn C'ii'V It must not be. 

2 Pre. 1 have a voice to give in it. 

3 Pre. And 1. 

And if per.sUHsion will not work him to it. 
We will make known our power. 

Nov. Sen. Vou are too violent; 
You shall have my consent : but would you had 
.Made trial of my love in any thing 
But this, you should have (ound then — but it skills 

not ; 
You have what vou desire. 

Roch. I thank vour lordships. 

Da Croij. I he court is up. Wake way. 

[Exennt all hut Rochfort and Beaumont 

Roch. I follow you. l{eaumont ! 

Beau. My lord. 

Roch. You are a scholar, Beaumont; 
And can search deeper into the intents of men. 
Than those that are less knowing. — Mow appear'd 
The pietv and brave behaviour of 
Young Charalois to you ? 

Beau. It is m> wonder, 
Since 1 want language to express it fully : 
And sure the c<donel 

Riich. Fie ! he was faulty. 
What pres nt money have l? 

Beau. 'J'liere's no want 
Of any sum a ]iiivate man haa use for. 

Roch, 'lis wlh 



Scene 1. 



TIIK FATAL DOWRY 



319 



I am stningelv tiken witli this Cl minis. 
Metliitilis, from liis exiun])lH tlie wliole sige 
Sliould learii to be good, and continue so. 



\'iitue works strari'^t-lv witli us ; and his goodness 
Kisiriu^ -above his fonutie, seems to me, 
Prince-like, to will, not ask, a courtesy. [Exftiixt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I.— ^ Street before the Prison. 

Enter Pontaiier, Malotin, and Beaumont. 

Mill. 'Tis strange. 
Beau. Methinks so. 
Pont. Ill a man but 3'oung, 
Yet old in judgment ; theonc and pvactic 
In all humaiiU)'*, and, to increase the wonder, 
Keligicms, yet a soldier ; that he should 
Yield his tree-living youth a captive lor 
The freedom of his aged father's corpse, 
And rather choose to want life's necessaries, 
Liberty, hope of fortune, than it should 
lu death he kejit from Christian ceremony. 

Mul. Come, 'tis a golden precedent in a son. 
To let strong nature have the belter hand. 
In such a case, of all affected reason. 
What years sit on this Charalois ? 

Beau. 'J'weiity-eight : 
For since the clock did strike him seventeen 

old. 
Under his father's wing this son hath fought. 
Served and commiiiuled, and so aptly hotii. 
That sometimes he uppear'd his father's father. 
And never less llian's son ; the old man's virtues 
So recent in him, as the world m:iy swear, 
Nought but a liiir iree could such fair fruit bear. 
Punt. But wlierefoie lets he such a barbarous 
law. 
And men more baibarous to execute it. 
Prevail on his soil disposition. 
That he had rather die alive, for debt 
Of the old man, in prison, than they should 
Rob him of se]>ulture ; considering 
These monies borrowed bought the lenders peace, 
And all the means thev enjoy, nor were diffused 
In any impious or licentious path ? 

Bean. 1 rue ! for my part, were it my father's 
trunk, 
The tyrannous ram-heads with their horns should 

gore it. 
Or cast it to their curs, than they less currish, 
Ere |)rey on me so with their lion-l;iw, 
Being 111 my tree will, as In his, to shun it. 

Pont. Alas! he knows himself in poverty lost: 
For in this partial avaiicious ago 
What price bears honour ? virtue? long ago 
It was but j)raised, and freeze.l ; but now-a-days 
'Tis colder far, and has nor love nor praise : 
The very praise now freezeth too ; for nature 
Did make the heathen (armoie Christian then, 
Than knowledge us. less heathenish. Christian. 
Mai This morning is the funeral ? 
Pont. Certainly, 
And from ihis jirisou — 'twas the son's request. 



* Jn all liumanily,] i. e. in all polite literature. 



That his dear father might interment have. 

See, the young son enter'd a lively grave* ! 

Beau. They come — observe their order. 

Solsinn Music, Enter the Funeral Frocessinn. The 
Coffi.i home bij Jhur, preceded btt a [-"nesr. C'lplains, 
Lieutenants, Ei'signs.itnd Suldie'-s ; Mourners, 6cul- 
clieons, £^c., and veri/ good order. Uo.most and 
Ch A 11 A LOIS, Jollow.d by the Gaolers and Officers, 
with Creditors, meet it. 

Charal. How like a silent stream shaded with 
night, 
And gliding softly with our windv sighs. 
Moves tlie whole frame of this solemnity ! 
Teats, s:i;ts, i.nd blackst filling the simile ; 
Whilst 1, the only murmur in this grove 
Of death, thus hollowly break forth. Vonchsiife 

['/'() ihe Bi-nre'i. 
\j 1 ty aRliilo — Rest, rest in peace, dear eanh! 
Thou that brouglit'st rest to their unthankful lives. 
Whose cruelty denied thee rest in death! 
Here stands tiiy poor executor, thy son, 
That makes his lite prisoner to bail ihy death ; 
Who gliidlier puts on this captivity. 
Than virgins, long in love, their weiiding weeds. 
Of all that ever thou hast done good to. 
These only have good memories; lor the}'' 
Remember best forget not giatitude. 
1 thank you for this last and friendly love: 

[ To tlie Soldien 
And though this country, like a viperous mother, 
Not only hath eat up ungratefully 
All means of thee, her son, but last, thyself. 
Leaving thy heir so bare and indigeiu. 
He cannot raise thee a jioor monument. 
Such as a flatterer or a usurer hath ; 
Thy worth, in every honest breast, builds one, 
Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stonej. 



* -See the young son fiiter'd a lively gravel] i. e. a liviug 
grave, so tic calls the prison. 'J'lie (|iMito liii.s; 

•See the young son intei (1 a lively grave. 
The small change luie iii.ule restore." the p.i.-s.i;;e to senae. 
.Mr. M. iMasoii would read — enters alive l\\e yr.ive, which I 
should like butler, il' he preceding line hail dead, \\iilrc.l\ ot 
dear I'ailu-r. The old reading, however, i.s dileiitleil l>y Mr. 
Giichiist, who observes that ihcre is a similar combination 
ot words jnst above, 

" He had r.iihpr die alive for debt." 
And also in Samson Ayonistes : 

" Myself niy si-pulclne, a moiling; ^rni'ff." v. 102. 

These passages are, indt-ed, .siiikingly similar: but they are 
not for thai the more inttlligible. 

i '/'ears, sighs, and bla.ks, Ac. I Iilaj:ks are constantly 
used by our old wiiiers for mourning weeds. 

j 'I'hy worth, in every honest breast, huHds one, 

Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone.] Had 
Pope Alas.Miiger in his ihouglits when he wiole his epitaph 
on Gay ? 

" These are Ihy honours! not that here Ihy bust 
li niix'U with heroes, or with kinzs thy dust; 



Sio 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act II. 



Pont. Sir. 

Cliuriil. Peace! O, peace! this scene is wholly 
mine. 
What! weep ye, soldiers? blanch not. — Romont 

weeps. 

Ha! let me see! my miracle is eased, 

Tlie gfaolers and the creditors do weep ; 

Even tliey that make us weep, do weep themselves. 

Be tliese thy body's balm! these and ihy virtue 

Keep tliv Came ever odoriferous, 

Whilst the great, proud, rich, undeserving man. 

Alive stinks in his vices, \ind, beiiif: vanish 'd, 

Ihe golden calf, that was an idol deck'd 

\Vitl) maihle pillars, jet, and jiorphyry, 

Shall (juicklv, both in bone and name, consume, 

Thoui>h wriipt in lead, spice, searcloth,and perfume ! 

1 Cied Sir. 

Charal, What? away, for shame! you profane 
rog;ues, 
Must not be mingled with these holy relics : 
This is a sacrifice* ; — our shower shall crown 
His sepulchre with olive, myrrh, and bays. 
The ])hints of peace, of sorrow, victory ; 
Your tears would spring but weeds. 

1 Cred. Would they so! 

We'll keep th^m to stop bottles then. 

Rom, No, keep them 
For your own sins, you rogues, till you repent} 
You'll die else, and be daran'd. 

2 Cred Dimm'd!— ha! ha! ha! 
liftn. Lau^li ye ? 

3 Ci-ed. Yes, faith, sir; we would bo very g'ad 
To please you either way. 

1 Cred. Von are ne'er content, 
Crying nor laughing. 

Rom. Both with a birth, ye rogues ? 

2 (Jved. Our wives, sir, taught us. 

Rom. Look, look, you slaves! your thnnkless 
cruelty. 
And snv;ige manners of unkind Dijon, 
Exliaust ihesH floods, and not his father's death. 

1 Cred. 'Slid, sir ! what would you ? you're so 
ciioiefic ! 

2 Cred. JMost soldiers are so, i'faiih; — let him 
alone. 

They have little else to live on. We've not had 
A )>eniiv of him, have we ? 

3 Cred. 'Sight! would you have our hearts ? 

1 Cred. Wf have nothing but Lis body here in 
durance 
For alt our money. 

Prk&t. On. 

Clitinil. One moment more, 
But to hestow a few poor legacies. 
All 1 hive left in mv dead father's rights, 
And I have done. Captain, wt-ar thou these spurs, 
That yet ne'er made his horse run from a foe. 
Lieutenant, ilion tliis scarf; and may it tie 
Thy valour and thv hoiresty together! 
For so it did in him. Ensign, this cuiiass. 
Your geneial's necklace once. You, gentle bearers, 
Divide this purse of gold ; this other, strew 

RiitilMl ilie v'uliioiis ami tlie !;oii(l sIihII say, 
Siril. ing liieir pensive l)oSiii!is — Heie lies Ciy !" 
I iMiiijiii ,iv>ijil ,iil(liiig,ili:a JdiiiiSDii must haw written Iiis 
COiiniu Ills on lliis little pruiliMion, in a tit ot' the spleen, 
anil ii \eiy ilull one too. Tlicy iMniiut injure I'ope, but they 
Inayilo suae lianii U; liiiiisell. 

• 7/( « f.v a -acnliie ;J Fiuin wliieli the profane were ex- 
cliideii. He allii'les to ihe ancient t'uriu ut° udjiu'dtion, 
EkCC tKUQ, t(STt, jit€ll\ot. 



Among the pool 'tis all 1 have. Romont 

Wear thou this medal of himself— — that, like 
A hearty oak, grew'st close to this tall pine. 
Even in the wildest wilderness of war. 
Whereon foes broke their swords, and tired them- 
selves ; 
Wounded and hack'd ye were, hut never fell'd. 

For me, my portion provide in heaven ! 

My root IS earth'd, and I, a desolate bi'nnch. 
Left scatter'd in the highway of the world. 
Trod under fool, that might have been a column 
]\Iainly supporting our demoH.ih'd hou-je. 

'J'his would I wear* as my inheritance 

And what hope can arise to me from it. 
When 1 and it are both heie prisoners! 
Only may this, if ever we be free, 
Keep or redeem me from all infamy. 

A Dirge, to solemn Music\. 

1 Cred. No further ; look to them at your own 

peril. 

2 Cred. No, as they please: their master's a good 

man. 

I would they were at the Bermudas ! 

Gaol. You miist no further. 
The prison limits you, and the creditors 
Exact the strictness. 

Rom. Out, you wolviili mongrels ! 
Whose brains should be knock'd out, like dogs in 

July, 
Lest your infection poison a whole town. 

Charal. They grudge our sorrow. Your ill wills, 
perforce. 
Turn now to charity: they would not have us 
Walk too far mourning; usurers' relief 
Grieves, if the debtors have too much of grief. 

[fJ.ieuTjt 



SCENE II*.— -4 Boom in Rochfort's House. 
Enter Hevumellk, Florimei., and Bellapert. 

Beanmet. I priihee tell me, Floriniel, why do 
women marry ! 

l-'lor. Why truly, madam, I think, to lie with their 
husliiiiids. 

Bell. Vou are a fool. She lies, madam ; women 
marry liiislinnils, to lie with other men. 

Flor. 'Faith, even such a woman wilt thou make. 
By tliis light, madam, this wagtail will spoil you, if 
you take delight in her license. 

Beanmel. 'I'ls true, Florimel ; and thou wilt make 
me too good for a \oung lady. What an electuary 
found my father out for liis daughter, when he com» 
poundeil you two my women ! for thou, Floriniel, 
art even a grain loo lieavy, simply, for a wailing 
genilewo < an 

Flor. And thou, Bellapert, a grain too light. 



• I'his would 1 wear, &c.] i.e. his father's sword. M. 
Mason. 

t 1 have followed llie qnarlo, in throwing these rhymef 
togiihcr at tlie eml oft e play. I wish I could have tliruwu 
thtni q'lile away, lor, to confess Ihe lrulli,il'ey are good for 
nuihiiig. 

J I uill not venlnre to pronounce tlie fine scene we have 
jii-t tini'licd •()■ he writleii by Kkhl. tlmngli [ eiitirt lin few 
oonbts of it; Imt 1 am conlilent lli.it lu.t a linr of lliis to 
whicli uc are now arrived wis ciniiposeil by M.is.-iii^' r. It 
is not in lii- in.inner. Unhukily llie poet's assoeiitts were 
soniewii.it like Dr. Jnhnsou's patrons — tliey encumbered him 
with tlieir asoiiiance. 



SCBiNE II.] 



THE PATAL DOWRV. 



Sfl 



Belh Well, go thy ways, goody wisdonr*, whom 
nobody rognrds. I wonder whether be elder, thou 
or thy houd? You lliink, because you served my 
lady's nii)th(?r. are thirty-two years old, which is ix 
pipf out, you know 

Flor. Well said, whirligig. 

Bell. You are deceived: I want a peg in tho 
middle. — Out of these prerogatives, you think to be 
mothei- of the maids here, and mortify them with 
proverbs : iro, go. govern the sweetmeats, and weigh 
the sugar. tliMt the wenches steal none; say your 
prayers twice a-day, and, as I take it, you have per- 
formed v"ur fuiictiiin. 

Flor. I may be even witb y.ou. 

Bell. ILirk ! the court's broke up. Go, help my 
d lord out of his caroch, and scratch his head till 
dinnor-tiiuo. 

Flor. Well. {Exit. 

Bell. Fie, madara, how you walk I By my maiden- 
head, you look seven years older than you did this 
morning. Why there can be nothing under the sun 
valuable to make you thus a minute. 

Beaumel. Ah, my sweet Bollapert, thou cabinet 
To all my counsels, thou dost know the cause 
That makes tliy lady wither thus in youth. 

Bell. Uds-light! enjoy your wishes: whilst I lire, 
One way or oiiicr you shall crown your will. 
Would 3'ou have him your husband that you love. 
And can it not bo? he is j'our servant, though. 
And may perforin the oliice of a husband. 

Benumel. But there is honour, wench. 

Bell. Such a disease 
There is indeed, for which ere I would 'die 

Beaumel. Prithee, distinguish me a maid and wife. 

Bell. 'Faith, madam, one may bear any man's 
children, t'other must bear no man's. 

Beaumel. What is a husband ? 

Bell. Physic, that, tumbling in your belly, will 
make you sick in the stomach. The only distinction 
betwixt a husband and servant is, the first will lie 
with you when he pleases; the last shall lie with 
you when you please. Pray tell me, lady, do you 
love, to marry after, or would you marry, to love 
after? 

Beaumel. I would meet love and marriage both at 
once. 

Bell. Why then you are out of the fashion, and 
will be eontemn'd: for I will assure 3'ou, theie are 
few women in the world, but either they have married 
first, and love after; or love first, and married after. 
You must do as you may, not as you woultl ; your 
father's will is the goal you must fly to. If a hus- 
band approach you, you would have further off, is 
he you love, the less near you? A husband in these 
days is but a cloak, to be oftener laid upon your bed, 
than in your bed. 

Beaumel. Hum ! 

Bell. Sometimes you may wear him on your 
shoulder ; now and then under your arm ; but 



* Bell. Well, go thy ways, goody wisiom, whom nobody 
regards] This tiipiiiiut allusion to Scripture, were there no 
otiier proofs, would be iiufficient to convince every attentive 
reader, that it could uot proceed from Massiuger. lie lias, 
indeed, a thousand relLrences to holy writ; but they are 
constantly, made with a becoming seriousness and so- 
lemnity. 

t Which is a pip out.] A pip is a spot upon a card. The 
allusion is to the very aucieut game of One-and thirly : it 
was once a favorite uiversion, and is meniioned, among 
others, in Uretu's Art uf Coney Catching. 



seldom or never let him cover you, for 'tis not tho 
fasliion. 

Enter NovAi.h junior, Pontalier, Maloiiw, 
LiLADA.M, and Aymeu. 

A'oi. ;«K. Best day to nature's curiosity, 
Star of Dijon, the lustre of all France ! 
Perpetual spring dwell on thy rosy theekn, 
\\ hose breath is perfume to our continent ! — 
See ! Flora irimm'd* in her varieties 

Belt. O, divine lord ' 

Kov.jun. No autumn nor no age ever approach 
Tliis heavi-nly piece, which nature having wrought, 
She lost her needle, and did then despair 
Ever to work so lively and so fair ! 

LiUtit. Uds-light! my loidf, one of the purls of 
your band is, without all discipline, fallen out of bis 
rank. 

Nov. jun. How ! I would not for a tl.ousand 
crowns she had seen't. Dear Lila<lani, reform it. 

Bell. Oil lord perse, lord ! quintessence of honour ! 
slie walk.s not under a weed that could deny thee 
any thing. 

Benumel, Prithee peace, wench ; tliou dost but 
blow the fire 
That flames too much already. 

[_LUudam and Aifmer trim N(yvall, while Bella- 
pert dresse.t tier lady. 

Ai/m. By gad, my lord, you have the divinesi 
tailor in Christendom; he hath made you look 
like an angel in your clotli-of-tissue doublff. 

Pout. 'I'his is a three-leggM loril ; there's a fresh 
assault. Oh! that men should spend time thus! 
See, see, bow her blood drives to her heart, and 
straight vaults to her cheeks again! 

Malot. Wii at are these? 

Pont. One of them there, the lower, is a good, 
foolish, knavish, sociable galliinanrrv of a man, and 
has much caught my lord wi»h sini;iug ; he is master 
of a music-house. The other is his dressui^ block, 
upon whom my lord lays all hiscloihes and fashions 
ere he vouchsafes them his own jiersoii :" you shill 
see him in the morning in the Galley-loisi, at noon 
in the Bullion, in the evening iu (juiipoj, and all 
night in 



* Seel Flora trinim'd in her varieties.] The old copy reads 
turn d, and was loUowcd by Coxeter : tlie Hllerdtion is by 
Mr. M. Mason. 

t l.d.id. (J da-liyht ! my lord, &c.J If this ridicnlous in- 
tcrniplion fariiislied Suriie with ihe hint tur lii.il hunior- 
ons one by the Count (le Faiiuaiit, wlitn lie «,is in the 
niidsl of a'dissertrttion on tlie iKce^sil^ of a Fir-t Cause, 
it must be allowed that he has gic.itly unproved on his 
ori^iiLil. 

J you shall see him in the mprning in the 

Gailey-foist, attioon inthe Bullion, in'llte eoin'my in Quirpo, 
&C.J 1 know not what to ni.ike of ihis p-"BS.ii;e. Mr. M. 
Mason thiirks llie pUcts here nieiitionecl wire taverns; it is 
full as likely that they were houses of public it sort for some 
kind of amusement. Our old writers give the name ot yat- 
ley foist to the Lord Mayor's barjie ; but 1 ste not liow tliis, 
or any other of the city barges, can be meant here. On le- 
coiisiilering the whole of this p.issage, [ am iiu lined to think 
that the allMsion is to particular modes of dress, i he galley- 
foist, when employed, was always ado. mil with lla^s, 
streamers, &c. This is sutticiently manifest Iroiii iiian> old 
viert's of the river; and it may be, that some uaiidy iliess set 
olt with scarfs and ribands, took its ii.iine iVi'iii ihf huliitav 
appearance of this vessel. The Bullion seems to be a pn ce 
of finery, which derived its denoniiu.iti'Ui from the luge 
glot ular gilt buttons, still in use on ilie contmeui ( p n licui.olj 
in Holl,ind),antl of which a diminutive speciinen oi.iv >et b» 
seen on the clothes of ourchildrtn. 'Iliis explam.s a pag- 
saffc in J on son .' 



it2 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act II. 



Ma'ot. A bawdyhouse. 

Pmt. If my lord deny, they deny; if he affirm, 
they iiffi-m; they skip into my lord's c;ist skins 
some twice a year ; and thus tliey flutter to eat, eat 
to live, and live to praise my lord. 

Mnlnt. Good sir, lell me one thing. 

P„„t. What's that? 

Miitot. Dare these men ever fight on any cause? 

Pont. Oh, no! 'twould spoil their dotlies, and 
put their hands out of older. 

Kiw. jiiii. -Mistress*, you hear the news? your 
father has resign 'd his presidentship to my lord my 
father. 

Mill. And lord Charalois 
Undone for ever. 

Pont. Troth, 'tis pity, sir, 
A braver hope of so assur^'d a father 
Did never comfort France. 

Lildd. A good dumb mourner. 

Aum. A silent black. 

A'l/i!. jiin. Oh, lie upon him, how he wears his 
clothes ! 
As if lie had come this (.'hristmas from St. Omers, 
To see iiis friends, and retuni'd after Twelfih-lide, 

lAlad. His colonel looks fiiielv like a drover — 

Kov.jun. That had a winter lain perdue iu the 
rain. 

Auin. What, he that wears a clout about his neck. 
His cuffs in's pocket, and his heart iu's mouth? 

Nov.Jun. Now, out upon him ! 

Beaumel. Servant, tie my hand. 

[Sov.jun. hisses her hand. 
How your lips blush, in scorn that they should pay 
Tribute to l«nds when lips are in the way ! 

Nov.jiiii. I thus recant; yet now your hand 
looks white, 
Because your lips robb'd it of siicli a right. 
Monsieur Aymer, I prithee sing tlie song 
Devoted te> my mistress. 

Music — and a Song by Aymer. 

Enter RocnFORTuHtf Beaumont 

Bean, Romont will come, jir, straight. 

Poch. ''I'is well. 

Beaiimel. ]My father ! 

Noi'.jun. My honourable lord. 

Rock. My lord Novall, this is a virtue in you ; 
So early up, and ready before noon, 
That are tlie map of dressing through all France ! 



" Wliile yon do cat. and lie about tlic town here, 
Ami cozen in your UuHions." 

The Devil's an Ass. 
Here bullion is evidently nsed for some dress of parade, 
put oil b\ i;aiiiblers, &<-., for the sake of iiiiposini; on ihe un- 
wary, ll is applied in a kindled sense by Beaumont and 
l-'lil.h.T: 
" 'Ih.it apeliad paid it — O what dainty tricks, 
III Ids Fiencli doublet, willi his blistered (blown np, hol- 
low) bullions, 
111 a long stock tied up." 

Beggar's Bush. 
Qniipo (cuerpo) is an undress; the Spaniards, from wlioiii we 
biiirovved the word, apply it to a person in a lij^ht jacket 
jiitti. ire-corps), without his calot or cloak; but our old <lra- 
nialisis, who use the expiessi<in upon all occasions, piean 
by it any state fioin nakedness to iiiipeifect clolliing. What 
Ihe iiiiiht ('res's of Ayiner (" m> hmrs third le;;") was, 
the adroit ii.tirriiption of Malolin prevents us from ascer- 
tainiiii;, nor, iiide-id, wouhl I have tlie reader to accept the 
explaiiaiioii of the otiiers as aiiythiin; moie than conjeclure. 
' Nov. jun. Mi^tress, you hrarlhinfws.'] I'or this siin- 
Je exprea.«''.ii tb'. modern ediiurs inu.-t 6traiii;ely aud cor- 
^iiy . .^a, .1/ -^At >"'< hear the news ( 



Nov.jiiu. I rise to say my prayers, sir; here's 

mv saint. 
Koch. 'I is well and courtly: — you must give me 
leave, — 
I have some private conference with my daughter; 
I'rav use mv garden : you shall dine with me. 
Lilad. We'll wait on you, 
Nov. jun. (jood mcirn unto your lordship ; 
Remember, what vou have vow'd. — [To Beaiimelte. 
Beaumel. I'er^orm I must. 

[E.ieuut all but Pochfort nnd Beaumelle. 
Roch. Why, how now, Beaumelle* ! thou look'st 
not well. 
Thou art sad of late ;— come, cheer thee, I haTO 

fo"nd 
A wholesome remedy for these maid°n fits: 
A goodly oak whereon to twist my vine, 
'J'ill her fair branches grow up to tiie stars. 
BeSlear at hand. — Success crown my intent! 
iMy business fills my little time so full, 
I cannot stiind to talk ! I know thy duty 
Is handmaid to my will, esjiecially 
When it presents nothing bu! good and fit. 

Beaumel. Sir, lamyours. — OJi ! if my fears prove 
true. 
Fate hath wrong'd love, and will destroy me too. 

[E.iil 
Enter RoMO.Mxa/irf G-aoler. 

Rom. Sent you for me, sir 

Roch. Yes. 

Rom. Your lordship's pleasure? 

Roch. Kvejier, this prisoner I will see forth- 
coming, 
Upon my word : — sit down, good colonel. 

\_Exit Gaoler, 
Why I did wish you hither, noble sir. 
Is to advise you irom this iron carnage, 
Which, so affected, Romont, you will wear; 
To pitv, and to counsel you submit 
With expedition to the great Novall : 
Recant your stern contempt, and sJight neglect 
Of the whole court and him, and opportunely, 
(Jr you will undergo a heavy censure 
In public, very shortly. 

Rom. Reverend sir, 
I have observed you. and do know you well ; 
And am now more afraid you know not me, 
By wishing my submission to Novall, 
'lliaii 1 can be of all the bellowing mouihs 
That wait upon him to pronounce the censure 
Could it determine me torments and shame. 

Submit, and crave forgiveness of a beast I 

'Tis true, this boil of slate wears purple tissue, 
Is high fed, I roud ; so is his lordship's horse. 
And bears as rich c:iparisons. I know 
'J'his elephant carries on his back not only 
Towers, castles, but the ponderous republic. 
And never stoops for't ; with his strong-breath'd 

trunk 
Snuffs others' titles, lordsliips, offices. 
Wealth, bribes, and lives, under his ravenous jaw* 
Whai's this unto my freedom ? I dare die ; 
And theiefore ask this camelf, if these blessings 



• Roch. IF/ty, how now, Bcann.clle t thou looh'st not 
well.] It may be necessary here to remind the reader that 
Massiiiiirr giiierally uses lieaumclle as a trisyllable, whici., 
indeeil, is its pmpir iiieasnrc. 

t And therf/die ask //;/« camel, &c.l In his indignation 
(aud It it tlie indignaliuu of viitue) the undaunte<* KumouC 



Scene II.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY, 



323 



(For so they would be understood by a man ) 

But inoUifv one rudeness in his nature, 

Sweeten tlie eager relish (<f the law, 

At whose great helm he sits. Helps lie the poor 

In a just business? nay, does he not cross 

Every deserved soldier and scholar, 

As if, when nature made him, she had made 

The general antipathy of all virtue '.' 

How savagely and blasphemously he spalce 

Touching^ the general, the brave general dead ! 

I must weep when I think on't. 

Roch. Sir. 

Ttom. My lord, 
I am not stubborn : I can melt, you see, 
And prize a virtue better than my lite : 
For though I be not learn 'd, I ever loved 
That holy mother of all issues good, 
Whose white hand, for a sceptre, holds a file 
To polish roughest customs ; and in you (K 

She has her right ; see ! 1 am calm as sleep. 
But when I think of the gross injuries, 
The godless wrong done to my general dead, 
1 rave indeed, and could eat this Novall ; 
A soulless dromedary I 

Roch. Oh ! be temperate. 
Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not constrain : 
Each man's opinion freely is his own 
Concerning any thing, or any body ; 
Be it right or wrong, 'tis at the judge's peril. 

Re-etiter Beaumont. 

Beau, These men, sir, wait without; my lord is 

come too. 
Roch. Pay them those sums upon tlie table ; take 
Their full releases : — stay, I want a witness : 
Let me entreat you, colonel, to walk in. 
And stand but by to see this money ])aid ; 
It does concern you and }Our friend ; it was 
The belter cause you were sent for, though said 

otherwise. 
The deed shall make this my request more plain. 
Rom. I shall obey your pleasure, sir, though 
ignorant 
To what it tends. [Exeunt Romoni and Bejumont. 

Enter Ciiaralois. 

Roch. Worthiest sir. 
You aie most welcome. Fie, no more of this ! 
You have outwept a woman, noble Charalois, 
No man but has or must bury a father. 

Chiiral. Grave sir, 1 buried sorrow for his death. 
In the grave with him. 1 did never think 
He was immortal — though I vow 1 giieve, 
And see no reason why the vicious, 
Virtuous, valiant, and unworthy man, 
Should die alike. 

Ro h. '1 hey do not. 

Charul. In the manner 
Of dyiiig, sir, they do not ; but all die. 
And tlurein differ not : but 1 have done. 
I spied* the lively picture,of my father. 
Passing your gallery, and that cast this water 
Into mine eyes. — See, — foolish that 1 am. 
To let it do so ! 



passes rHpidly fiom one strong metaphor to another. This is 
perpk'viiis; ; ijiit is ndt therefore the kssiialiir.il. 

• I up ed, i\c.) This is a prcll> ciiciiiiistaiice, and iscalcu- 
lateil n>,i milj- tn show the HiidI piety of Clutialois, but to 
inteicbl Ills lueliiiijs in favour of Kochfort, by ihc respect 
•liO»n (o lii.'i fjlher. 



Roch. Sweet and gentle nature! 
How silken is this well*, eomparativelv 
To other men ! I Imve a suit to you, sir. 
Charal. Take it, 'tis granted. 
Roch. What? 
Chtiral. Nothing, my lord. 
Rdch. Nothing is quickly granted. 
Charul. Fai'h, mv lord, 
That notliing granted is even all I have, 
For, all know, I have nothing left to grant. 

^ Roclt. Sir, have you any suit to me ? I'll grant 
You something, any thing. 

Charal. Nay, surely, 1 that can 
Give nothing, will but sue for that again. 
No man will grant me any thing I sue for. 
But begying nothing, every man will eive it. 

Roch. Sir! 
The love I bore your father, and the worth 
I see in you, so much resembling his. 
Made me thus send for you : — and tender here 

[Draii'i- a curtain, and discovers a table viitk 
moni'ii and jewels upon it. 
Whatever you \\i\\ take, gold, jewels, both. 
All, to supply your wants, and free vonrself. 
Where heavenly virtue in high-blooded veins 
Is lodged, and can agree, men should kneel down. 
Adore, and sacrifice all that they have ; 
And well they may, it is so seldom seen. 
Put off your wonder, and here fieely take. 
Or send your servants : nor, sir, shall you use 
In anght of this a poor man's fee. or bribe 
Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's 
Directly gotten, and vet by the la'*'. 

Charul. How ill, sir, it becomes those hairs ta 

mock ! 
Roch. Mock ! thunder strike me th^n ! 
Charal. You do amaze me : 
But you sliall wonder too. I will not take 
One single piece of this great heap. Why should I 
Borrow, ti.at have no means to pay ? nay, am 
A very bankrupt, even in flattering hope 
Of ever raising any. All my begging 
Is Romont's liberty. 

Re-enter Romont and Beaumont, v;ilk Creditors. 

Roch. Here is your friend. 
Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him to you ; 
And, Charalois, 1 give you to your friend. 
As free a man as he. Your father's debts 
Are taken off. 

Charal. How! 

Rom. Sir, it is most true; 
I am the witness. 

1 Cred. Yes, faith, we are paid. 

2 Cred. Heaven bless his lordship ! I did think 
him wiser. 

3 Cred. He a statesman ! he's an ass. Pay other 
men's debts ! 



* f/ow sillit'n is this well, &c.] I siispcci tli.it there i? some 
conceplion in this pa.-sage ; but if well be the rij;lil ie,i(lin!;, it 
is a qii.iiin allusion to the tears of Cliaraloi-.ami must be con- 
siilere'l as a noun substantive. M. Mason. 

1 l<now not wliiit Mr. M. Mason means by concrplinn ; 
though I am inclineil to think lie has i;iveii the seii-e of the 
pass.isie, siK-h as it is. If we iinderstaiKl well to siuiiify fas, 
iiy a violent but iKit niipiecedented calaehn .-is, it may) 
either goodness or virtue, the niiitttr will not be iniicli 
nuniled : in a word, it is a forced and iiiiii.itnrHl ex| res.'<ion, 
and so dinereiit fKini the easy and t1o«iii>; .-Ijle i.f Ma.«sin- 
ger, that "e may si t it down williout sciuple, to the account 
of Ids assoriate, F'eld. 



\24 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act. II 



1 Cred. That he was never bound for. 

Rom. One more sue li 
Would save tlie rest of pleaders. 

Chiinil. Honour d Iloclilort — — 
Lie still, mv tongue, and, blushes, scald mv cheeks*, 
That offer tiiaiiks in words for .such great deeds. 

Rocli. Call in my (hiughter. Still 1 havb a suit 
to vou, [£"ij£ Beaumont. 

Woul<i vou requite me. 

Rum. Wi'h his life, I assure you. 

Roch. Nav, would you make me now yourdebtor, 
sir 

Re-enter Hewmost with Beaumelle. 

This is mv only cliiUl -. what slie appears, 
Your lordshi]) well m;iv see: her e<lucaiion 
Follows not anvt ; for her mind, I know it 
To be far fairer than her sli^ijie, and iiope 
It will continue so. If riow lier birth 
Be not too mean for Ciiaralois, take her, take 
This viroin by the hand, and call her Wife, 
Endo'.v'd with all 1113' fortunes. BIhss me so. 
Requite me thus, and make me hajipier. 
In joining my poor empty name to yours, 
Than if my state were multiplied tenfjld. 

Chiiral. Is this the payment, sir, that you expect! 
Why, you precipitate me more in debt, 
That nothinj;- but mv life can ever pay. 
l"Iiis beautv being; your daughter, in which Y0i;ns 
I must conceive necessity of her virtue. 
Without all dowry is a prince's aim : 
Then, as she is, for poor and worthless me 
How miicli too worthy ! Waken me, Romont, 
Tliat I may know I dream'd, and find this vanish'd. 

Rom. Sure, I sleep not. 

Roch. Your sentence— life or death. 

Charul. Fair Beaumelle, can you love me? 

Beaumel. Yes, my lord. 

FmIst Novall junior, Postalier, Malotin, 
LiLADAM, and Ay.mer. Tliey all salute. 

Charal. You need not question me if I can you : 
You are the fairest virgin in Dijon, 
And Roclifort is your fatiier. 

Nov.jun. W hat's this change? 

Roch. You meet my wishes, gentlemen. 

Rom. What make 
These dogs in doublets here? 

Beau. A visitation, sir. 

Charal, Then thus, fair Beaumelle, I write my 
faith. 



• Lie still, mytonyua, and, blushes, scald my cheehs.] This 
tine, in llie old copy, iriaj rival some of Sliakspeare's in ly- 
pograpliical ncatiicf.s : 

Lye still my toung and bushes cnV d my chcelieg. 

♦_ — what she appears, 

j'oiir lordship uell may see: her education 

Follows not any ;] i. e. is not inferior to any : the modern 
editors liavi-, 

Your lordship may well see : for education, Beaumelle 
Follows not any. 
This Strang.- line is not in the old copy, which reads as I have 
given it. Coxclvr adopted Bc^mnielle from (lie margin, and 
Mr. M. Mason altcreil the text that he niigli.t continne 
It! Could nothing persuade this gentleman to turn to the 
vriginal t 



Thus seal it in the siglit of heaven and men ! 
Your fingers tie my heiirt-strings with tlii> touch, 
In true-love knots, which nought but dealii shall 

loose. 
And let these tears*, an emblem of our loves. 
Like chrystal rivers intlividually 
Flow into one another, make one source, 
Which never man distinguish, less divide! 
Breath matry breath, and kisses mingle souls, 
Two liearts siiid bodies here incorf.orate ! 
And, though with little wooing 1 liave won, 
]\Iy future life shall be a wooing time. 
And every day new as the bridal one. 
Oh, sir ! I groan under your courtesies, 
More than my father's bones under his wrongs: 
You, ("urtius like, have thrown into the gulf 
Of this Ills country's foul ingratitude 
Your life and fortune;}, to redeem their shames. 

jKoc/i. No more, my glory! come, let's in, and 

" liasten 
This celebration. 

Rom. Mai. Pont. Beait. All fair bliss upon it ! 
[^Eieiint Rochiort, Charalois, liomont, Bajumcmt, 
and Malotin. 

Nov.jun. IVIistress! 

Beaumel. Oh, servant! — Virtue strengthen me I 
Thy presence blows round my affection's vane : — 
You will undo me, if you speak ai,iun. . [Exit. 

Lilad. Aym. Here will be sport for yon ! this 
works. ' [LxcuKt. 

Nov.jun. Peace ! peace ! 

Po7if. One word, my lord Novall. 

Nov.jun. What, thou wouldst money? — tliere ! 

Pont. No, 1 will none, I'll not be bought a slave, 
A pander, or a jiarasite, for all 
Your father's worth. Though you have saved my 

life. 
Rescued me often from my wants, I must not • 
Wink at your follies : that will ruin von. 
You know my blunt wav.and my love, to truth — 
Forsake the pursuit of tiiis lady's iionour. 
Now you do see her made another man's. 
And such a man's, so goo'd, so jiopular ; 
Or you will pluck a thousand mischiefs on you. 
The benefits you have done me are not lost. 
Nor cast away, they are purs'd here in my heart; 
But let me pay you, sir, a fairer way 
Than to defend your vices, or to soothe them. 

Nop. jnn. Ha, ha ! what are my courses unto 

thee ? 

Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that 

That shall concern thyself. [Exit. 

Pont. No more but scorn ! 
IVIove on, then, stars, work your pernicious will : 
Only the wise rule, and prevent your ill. [Exit. 

[Here a passage over the stage, whil^ tne act i$ 
■plniing for the marriage of Ciiaralois with 
Beaumelle, &fc. 



' And let these tears, &c.l §0 Rowe: 

"Are yon not iiiix'd like streams of meeting rivers 
Whose blended wafers are no more di>tingiii,>h'd. 
But roll into the sea one common flood (" 

Fair Penitent. 



StIi.NE T.J 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



sr. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A Room in Charalois' House. 
Enter Kovali. junior, and Bellapert. 

Xon. jiin. Fly not to these excuses ; thou hast 
been 
False in fhy promise — and, when I hare said 
Unsrateful, all is spoken. 

Pell. Good, iny lord ; 
But hear me only. 

Nov.jiiit. To what purpose, trifler ? 
Can any thing- that thou canst say make void 
The marriiige, or those pleasures but a dream, 
Which Charalois, oh Venus! hath enjoy'd ? 

Bell. I vet could say that you receive advantage 
In what you think a loss, would you vouchsafe me, 
That you were never in the wav, till now, 
Wilh safety to arrive at your desires ; 
That pleasure makes love to you, unattended 
By dano;er or re])entance. 

Nov.jiin. That 1 could 
But apiirehend one reason how this might be! 
Hope would not then forsake me. 

Bell. Tiie enjoying 
Of what you most de-ire, I say the enjoying^. 
Shall, in the lull possession of your wishes. 
Confirm that 1 sim faithful. 

Nov.jtin. Give some relish 
How this may appear possible. 

Bell. I will. 
Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy. 
You say my lady's married •: — I confess it : 
That Charalois hath enjoyed her ; — 'tis most true : 
That, will) her, he's already master of 
The best part of my old lord's state — still better, 
But that the first or last should be your hinderance 
I utterly deny ; for but observe me ; 
While she went lor, and was, I swear, a virgin, 
What courtesy cnuld she, with her honour, give. 
Or you receive with safety 1 take me with you ; 
When I say courtesv, do not think I mean 
A kiss, the tying of her shoe or garter, 
An hour of private conference ; those are trifles. 
In this word courtesy we, th^t are gamesters, point 

at 
The sport direct, where not alone the lover 
Brings his artillery, but uses it; 
Which word expounded to you, such a courtesy 
Do you expect, and sudden. 

Nov.jun. But he tasted 
The first sweets, Bellapert. 

Bell, lie wrong'd you shrewdly ! 
He toil'd to climb up to the Phoenix' nest. 
And in his prints leaves your ascent more easy. 
I do not know, you that are perfect critics. 
In women's books, may talk of maidenheads — 
Nov.jun. But for her marriage ! 

Bell. 'Tis a fair protection 
'Gainst all arrests of i'ear or shame for ever. 
Such as are fair, and yet not foolish, study 
To have one at thirteen ; but they are mad 
That stay till twenty. Then, sir, for the pleasure, 
To say adultery's sweeter, that is stale ; 
24 



This only — is not the contentment more, 
'Jo say. This is my cuckold, than mv rival ? 
More 1 could say — but brieflv, she doats on you ; 
If it prove otherwise, s|iare not, poison me 
With the next gold you give me. 

Enter Beaumelle. 

Beaumel. How's this, servant! 
Coin'ting mv woman ? 

Bi'tl. As an entrance to 
The favour of the mistress. You are together; 
And I am perfect in my cue. [Going, 

Beaumel. Stay, Bellapert. 

BeH. In this I must not, with your leave, obey 
you. 
Your tailor and your tirewoman wait without, 
And stay my counseland direction for 
Your iiexi (lay's dressing-. 1 liave much to do, 
Kor will your ladyship, now time is precious, 
Con'imie idle; this choice lord will find 
So (it eiii]iloyment for you ! [Exit. 

I'cdnmel. 1 shrdl <;row angry. 

Aoc ;■((«. Not so ; you have a jewel in her, 
madam. 

Be-enter Bellapert. 

Belt. I had forgot to tell your ladysliip 
The closet is private, and your couch [there] ready: 
And, if you please that I shall lose the' key, 
Bui say -o, aud 'tis done. [Eiit. 

Beaumel You come to chide me, servant, and 
bring with 3'ou 
Sufficient warrant. You will say, and truly, 
iViy lather found too much obedience in me, 
liy lieing won too soon ; yet, if you please. 
But to remember all my hopes and fortunes 
Had rel'ereiice to his liking, you will grant. 
That thon<;h I did not well towards you, I yet 
Did wisely for myself. 

Kov.jiiH. With too much fervour 
I have so long loved, and still love you, mistress, 
'1 o esteem that an injury to me 
Which was to you convenient: — that is past 
IVIy help, is past my cure. You j^et may, lady, 
In recompense of all my duteous service 
(Provided that you will answer your power), 
Become my creditress. 

Beaumel. I understand you; 
And for assurance the request you make 
Shall not be long unanswered, — jyray you sit. 
And by what you shall hear, you'll easily find 
My [lassions are much fitter to <lesire, 
Thau to be sued to. 

Enter Romont and Florimel behind. 
Fl-^r, Sir, it is not envy 
At the start my fellow has got of me in 
]\ly lady'.- good opinion, that's the motive 
Of this discovery ; but tiie due payment 
Of what I owe her honour. 
Horn. So I conceive it. 

Flisr. I have observed too mu nor shall my 
s' If nee 



)26 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[AcrllL 



[Eiit. 



Prevent the remedy : Yonder they are ; 

I dare not be seen with you. You may do 
What vou think fit. which will he, I presume, 
The office of a faithful and tried friend 
To my young lord. 

Rom. This is no vision : ha ! 

Nov.jun. With the next opportunity? 

Beanmel, By this kiss. 
And this, and this. 

Ni'vjun, That you would ever swear thus ! 

Rom. [comes forward] If I seem rude, your pardon, 
lady ; yours 
I do not ask : come ; do not dare to show me 
A fuce of anger, or the least dislike ; 
Put oil, and suddenly, a milder look, 
I shall grow rough else. 

Nov.jun. What have I done, sir, 
To draw this harsh unsavoury language from you? 

Rom. Done, popinjay! why, dost thou think, 
that, if 
I e'er had dreamt that thou hadst done me wrong, 
Thou sliouldst outlive it? 

Beuumel. This is something more 
Than my lord's friendship gives commission for. 

Nov.jini. Your presence and the place make him 
presume 
Upon my patience. 

Rom. As if thou e'er wert angry 
But with thy tailor ! and yet that poor shred 
Can bring more to the making up of a man, 
Than can be hoped from thee : thou art liis creature ; 
And (lid he not, each morning, new create thee, 
Thou'dst stink, and be forgotten. I'll not change 
One syllable more with thee, until thou bring 
Some testimony, under good men's bands, 
Thou art a Christian : I suspect thee strongly, 
And will be satisfied ; till which time, keep from 

ine, — 
The entertainment of your visitation 
Has made what 1 intended one, a business. 

Nov.jun. Sol we shall meet. — Madam. 

Rom. Use that leg again, 
And I'll cut off the other. 

Nov.jun. Very good [Eijt. 

Rom. What a perfume the musk cat leaves behind 
him ! 
Do you admit him for a property, 
To save your charges, lady ? 

Beaumel. 'Tis not useless, 
Now \ou are to succeed him. 

Rom. So I respect you*, 
Not for yourself, but in remembrance of 
Who is your lather, and whose wife you now are, 
That 1 choose rather not to understand 

Your nasty scoff, than 

Beanmel. What, you will not beat me 
If I expound it to you ! Here's a tyrant 
Spares neither man nor woman ! 

Rum. INIy intents, • 
Madam, deserve not this ; nor do I stay 
To be the whetstone of your wit : preserve it 



• Rom. IJ'hat a perfume the musk cat leave* behind him! 
Do you admit him j'ur a property, 
To taiie your charges, lady f 

Bean. ' 'lis not useless, 
Now you are to succeed him. 

Rum. .S'o I rfs/ect you, Sec.) These two speeches were 
>.».lverteiilly omitted by Mr. M. Mason: it was iLe more 
•'nfortuiiale, as several of the eacceeding lines depended ou 
(bcm 



To spend on such ns know how to admire 

Such colour'd stuff. In me, there now speaks to 

you 
As true a friend and servant to your honour. 
And one that will with as much hazard guard it, 

As ever man did goodness : but then, ladyj 

You must endeavour not alone to be, 
But to APPE>tR, worthy such love and service. 
Beaumel. To what tends this? 
Rom. Why, to this purpose, lady 
I do desire you should prove such a wife 
To Charalois (and such a one he merits). 
As Cwsar, did he live, could not except at ; 
Not only innocent from trinie, but free 
From all taint and suspicion. 

Beaumel. They are base 
That judge me otherwise. 

Rom. But yet be careful : 
Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not 
To wound the fame of princes, if it find 
But any blemish in their lives to work on. 
But I'll be plainer with you : had t^e people 
Been learn'd to speak hut what even now 1 saw, 
Their malice out of ihat would raise an engine 
To overthrow your honour. In my sight, 
With yonder painted fool I frighted from you. 
You used familiarity beyond 
A modest entertainment : you embraced him 
With too much ardour for a stranger, and 
Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely. 
But learn you to forget him, as I will 
Your bounties to him ; you will find it safer. 
Rather to be uncourily ihan immodest. 

Beaumel. This pretty nig* about your neck shovrg 
well. 
And. being coarse and little worth, it speaks you 
As terrible as thrifty. 
Rom. Madam ! . 

Beanmel. Yes: 
And this strong belt, in which you hang your honour, 
Will outlast twenty scarfs. 
Rnm. What m^an you, lady? 
Beaumel. And [then] all else about you cap-a-pi6, 
So uniform in spite of handsomeness, 
Shows such a bold contempt of comeliness. 
That 'tis not strange your laundress in the leaguerf 
Grew mad with love of you. 
Rom. Is my free counsel 
Answer'd with this ridiculous scorn? 

Beaumel. These objects 
Stole very much of my attention from me ; 
Yet something 1 remember, to speak truth, 
Deliver'd graveiv, but to little purpose. 
That almost would have made me swear some curate 
Had stolen into tiie person of Romont. 
And, in the praise of good wife honesty. 
Had read an homilv. 

Rom. B.y this hand 

Beaumel. And sword, 
I will make up vouroath.it will want weight else. — 
You are angry with me, and poor I laugh at it. 
Do you come from the camp, which affords oidy 

• Beaumel. This pretty rag about your neck shotca ivell,] 
There is alreiifly an allusion lo this ray : 

" What, lie that we^irs a clout about his neck 1" 

+ That 'tis not strange your laundress in the leaguer] i. e. 
ill the camp. S" Lithgow, apohiwiziiig for the ruiieiiesii of 
his!it>le, desire.'* his readers " to impute the faults thereof le 
a disordered leayver." His narrative was written at the 
•if Se of Breda. See The Picture. 



fCEXE I.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



5«T 



The conversation of cast suburb whores, 
To set down to a lady of my rank 
Limits of entertainment! 

Rom. Sure a legion 
Has possest this woman '. 

Betiuyiel. One stamp more would do well : yet I 
desire not 
You should grow horn-mad till yo.i have a wife. 
You are come to warm meat, and perhaps clean 

linen ; 
Feed, wear it, and be thankful. For me, know, 
That thouo-h a thousand watches were set on me. 
And you the master-spy, I yet would use 
The liberty that best likes me. 1 will revel, 
Feast, kiss, embrace, perhaps grant larger favours ; 
Yet such as live upon my means shall know 
They must not murmur at it. If my lord 
Be now grown yellow, and has chose out you 
To serve his jealousy this way, tell him this : 
You have something to inform him. [Exit, 

Rom. And I will ; 
Believe it, wicMted one, I will. Hear, heaven, 
But, hearing, pardon me ; if these fruits grow 
Upon the tree of marriage, let me shun it 
As a forbidden sweet. An heir, and rich, 
Young, beautiful, yet add to this — a wife, 
And 1 will rather choose a spittle* sinner 
Carted an age before, thouj;h three parts rotten, 
. And take it for a blessing, rather than 
Be fetter'd to the hellish slavery 
Of such an impudence. 

Enter Beaumont with iwtteng'S. 

Beau. Colonel, good fortune 
To meet you thus ! Vou look sad, but I'll tell you 
Something that shall remove it. O, how happy 
Is my lord Charalois in his fair bride ! 

Rom. A happy man, indeed ! — pray you, in what? 

Beau. I dare swear, you would think so good a 
lady 
A dower sufficient. 

Rom, No dnubt. But on. 

Eeatt. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous, so — indeed, 
All that is excellent! 

Rom. Women have no cunning 
To gull the world ! 

Beau. Yet, to all these, my lord, 
Her father, gives the full addition of 
All he does now possess in Burgundy: 
These writings, to confirm it, are new seal'd. 
And I most fortunate to present him with them ; 
I must go seek him out. Can you direct me ? 

Rom. You'll find him breaking a young horse. 

Beau. 1 thank you. Exit. 

Rom. I must do something worthy Charalois' 
friendship. 
If she were well inclined, to keep her so 
Deserved not thanks ; and yet, to stay a woman 
Spurr'd headlong bv hot lust to her own ruin, 
Is harder than to prop a falling tower 
With a deceiving reed. 

Enter Rociifout, speaking to a Seriant within. 

Roch. Some one seek for me 
As soon as he returns. 

Rom. Her father? ha! 

How if I break this to him? sure it cannot 

» And I will rather ckoose a spittle sinner] For spittle I 
V, M. Mason reads, «pi<a/, as usual, and is, as usual, wrung. 
^J^ The fJHy Madam. 



Meet with an ill construction : his wisdom, 
Made powerful by the authority of a father. 
Will warrant and give privilege to his counsels. 
It shall be so. — M v lord ! 

Roch. Your friend, Roniont. 
Would you aught with me? 
Rom. I stand so engaged 
To your so many favours, that I hold it 
A breach in thankfulness, should I not discover 
Though with some imj)utaiion to myself. 
All doubts that mav concern you. 

Ruch. The performance 
Will make this protestation worth my thanks. 

Rom. Then, with your patience, lend me yout 
attention : 
For what I must deliver, whisper'd only. 
You will with too much grief receive. 

Eater Beaumelle and Bellai'eht, behind, 

Beaiimel. See, wench ! 
Upon my life, as I forespake, he's now 
I'referring his complaint ; but be thou perfect. 
And we will fit him. 

Belt. Kear not me ; pox on him ! 
A captain turned informer against kissing! 
Would he were liang'd up in his rusty armour! — 
But, if our fresh vi-its cannot turn the plots 
Of such a mouldy murrion on itself; 
Rich clothes, choice fare, and a true friend at a call. 
With all the pleasures the night yields, forsake us ! 

Roch. This in my daughter ! do not wrong her. 

Bell. Now 
Besin : the game's afoot, and we in distance. 

Beaumel. [comes forward.] 'Tis thy fault, foolish 
girl ! pin on my veil, 
I will not wear those jewels. Am I not 
Already matched beyond my hopes ? yet still 
You prune and set me forth, as if I were 
Again to please a suitor. 

Bell. 'Tis a course 
That our great ladies take. 

Beaumel. A weak excuse* I 
Those that are better seen in what concerns 
A lady's honour and fair fume, condemn it. 
You wait well ; in your absence, my lord's frienit. 
The understanding, grave, and wise Romont— — — 

Rom. INIust I be still her sport ? 

Beaumel. Reproved me for it ; 
And he has travell'd to bring home a judgment 
Not to be contradicted. You will say 
My father, that owes more to years than he, 
Has brought me up to music, language, courtship, 
And 1 must use them : true ; but not to offend. 
Or render me suspected. 

Roch. Does your fine story 
Begin fiom this ? 

Beaumel. I thought a parting kiss 
From young Novall would have displeased no more 
Than heretofore it hath done ; but 1 find 
I must restrain such favours now; look, therefore ; 
As you are careful to continue mine, 
That I no more be visited. I'll endure 
The strictest course of life that jealousy 
Can th;nk secure enough, ere my behaviour 
Shall call my fame in question. 

• Beaumel. A weak excuse '.] This hemistlrli Iiai been hi- 
tlieito given to Rumont. It is evident, lo me at leasl, iliat 
it belongs lo Beaumelle. Roniont cunhl not call what Bel- 
iapert liad urged, a weak ejccute, for he wasiijnoraiit ot iti 
drill. 



sts 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act III. 



liom. Ten dissemblers 
Are in this subile devil ! You believe this? 

Rnch. So fur, that if yon trouble ine again 
With a rejwrt like this, 1 slndl not only 
Jud^e you mahcious in your (lisjiosition, 
But study to repent what 1 have done 
To such a nature. 

Rom. Why, 'tis exceedinp; well. 

Roch. And for you, daughter, off with this, off 
with it J 
I have that confidence in your goodnpss, I, 
That I will nft consent t > have you live 
Like to a recluse in a cloister : Go, 
Call in the oallanls, let them make you merry ; 
Use all fit liberty. 

Br-//. Blessing tipnn you ! 
If this new |)reacher with the sword and feather 
Could prove his doctrine for canonical, 
We should have a fine world. ^F.iit. 

Roch. Sir, if you please 
To bear yourself as fits a gentleman, 
The house is at your service ; but, if not, 
Though you seek comp;iny elsewhere, your absence 
Will not be much lamented. [Exit. 

Rom. If this be 
Tlie recompense of striving to preserve 
A wanton gigglet honest, very shortly 
'Twill niiike all mankind panders. — Do you smile. 
Good lady looseness ! vour wliole sex is hke you. 
And that man's mad that Sf eks to better any : 
What new change jiave you next? 

heaumel. Oh, fear not you, sir, 
I'll shitt into a thou>and, but 1 will 
Convert your heresy. 

Riuri. U hat heresy ? speak. 

Beanmel. Of kee[)ing a lady that is married 
From entertaining servants 

Enter Novall junior, Malotin, Liladam, Aymeh, 
and Pontalier. 

O, 3'ou are welcome ! 

Use any means to vex him, 

And then with welcome follow me. 

Nov jun. You are tired 
Witli you'- grave exhortations, colonel! 

Lilad. How is it? faith, your lordship may do 
well 
To help him to some church preferment : 'tiS 
The fashion now for men of all conditions. 
However they have lived, to end that way. 

Aym. That face would do well in a surplice. 

Uom. Rogues, 
Be silent — or — 

Pont. 'Sdeath ! will you suffer this*? 

Rom. And you, the master-rogue, the coward 
rascal, 
I shall be with you suddenly. 

Nov. jun. Pontalier, 
If I should strike him, I know I should kill him; 
And therefore I would have thee beat him, for 
He's good for nothing else. 



' Pont, 'sdentk \ will you suffer this?} Massiiiger has pre- 
served the charaL-ter of Pontaliir Iroiii contaiiiiii.ition, wilh 
great dexteiity, throutili every .scene He is here the only 
one (wilh Ihe exception of Malotin; who does not insult 
Ronioni, th(.ut;h he appears to fed some indignation at Ihe 
conleinpt with which Novall and his followers are treated by 
hi'n. He is grateful, but not ob..^eciiiiuns ; and rather tie ai- 
IVclionate tutor than the afient of his young lord, for almtc 
'oQuur he is more solicitous than for his own advanta 'e. 



\Exit. 



Lilad. His back 
Appears to me, as it wjiild tire a beadle ; 
And then he has a knotted brow would bruisi 
A courtlike hand to touch it. 

Aum. He looks like 
A currier when his hides grow dear. 

Pont. Take heed 
He currv not some of you. 

A^OD.j'i/H. Gad's me ! he's angry. 

Rom. 1 break no jests, hut 1 can break my sword 
About your pates. 

Enter CiiARALois and Beaumont. 

Lilad. Here's more. 

Aijm. Come, let's be gone: 
We are beleaguer'd. 

Nov.jiiH. Look, they bring up their troops. 

Punt. Will you sit down 
With this dis^riice? you are abused most grossly. 

Liliid. I grant you, sir, we are; and you would 
have us 
Stay, and be more abused. 

Nov. jun. iMy lord, I'm fOiry 
Your house is so inhospitable. v\e must quit if, 

[Exenut ulL hut Charalois and Romoitt. 

Charal. Prithee, Romont, what caused this uproar! 

Rom Nothin"; 
They lau"h'd, and used their scurvy wits upon nie. 

Chiiriii. Come, 'tis thv jealous nature: but 1 ;vonder 
That you, which are an Iionest man and worthy, 
Should foster this suspicion : no man laughs, 
No one can whisper, but ihou apprehend'st 
His conference and his scorn reflect on thee: 
For my ])art, they should scoff their thin wits out. 
So I not heard them ; beat me, not being there. 
Leave, leave these fits to conscious ir.en, to such 
As are obnoxious to those foolish things 
As they can gihe at. 

Rom. V\ ell, sir. 

Charal. Thou art knowa 
Valiant without defect, rightly defined. 
Which is as fearing to do injury, 
As tender to endure it ; not a brabbler, 
A swearer 

Rom. Pish, pish! what needs this, my lord? 
If I be known none such, how vainly you 
Do cast away good counsel ! I have loved you, j 

And yet must fieely speak ; so young a tutor 
Fits not so old a soldier as I am : 
And 1 must tell you, 'twas in yoyr behalf 
1 grew enraged thus, yet had rather die 
Than open the great cause a syllable further. 

Clniral. In my behalf! Wherein hath Charalois 
Unfitly so demean'd himself, to give 
The least occasion to the loosest tongue 
To throw aspersions on him? or so weakly 
Protected his own honour, as it should 
Need a defence from any but himself? 
They are fools that judge me by my outward 

seeming. 
Why should my gentleness beget abuse ? 
The lion is not angry that does sleep. 
Nor every man a coward that can weep, 
For God's sake, speak the cause. 

Rom. Not for the world. 
Oil ! it will strike disease into your bones. 
Beyond the cure of physic ; drink your blooU, 
Rob you of all your rest, contraci your sight. 
Leave you no eyes but to see misery. 
And of your own ; nor speech, but to wish thui. 



Scene I.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



SS9 



Would I hiid perish 'd in the prison's jaws, 

Fioin whence I was redeeni'd ! — 'twill wear you 

old, 
Before you have experience in that art 
Tliat ciiuses your affliction. 

Charal. 'J hou dost strike 
A deathf'ul coldness to mv heart's hig^li heat. 
And .sliriiik'st my liver like the calenture. 
Decline this foe of mine, and life's, tliat like 
A mini 1 may encounter and subdue it. 
It shall not have one such effect in me 
As thou denouiicest : with a soldier's arm, 
If it be strength, I'll meet it ; if a fault 
Belonging- to my mind, I'll cut it off 
With mine own reason, as a scholar should. 
Speak, though it make me monstrous. 

Rim. 1 will die first. 
Farewell ; continue merry, and high heaven 
Keep your wife chaste ! 

Chuiul. Hum! Stay and take this wolf 
Out of my breast, that thou hast lodged there, or 
For ever lose me. 

Bnm. Lose not, sir, yourself. 
And 1 will venture : — so, the door is fast. 

[Locks the door. 
Now, noble Charalois, collect yourself, 
Summon your spirits, muster all your strength 
That can belong to man ; sift passion 
From every vein, and wllat^oe'er e;isues, 
Upbraid not me hereaftt-r, as the cause of 
Jealousy, discontent, slaughter, and ruin : 
Make me tiot parent to sin. — V'ou will know 
This secret that 1 burn with'.' 

Chiiral. Devil on"t, 
Wh;ii should it be ! Romont, I heard you wish 
My wife's continuance of chastity. 

Rem. There was no hurt in that. 

Cluiiiil. \\ hy, do vou know 
A likelihood or possibility 
Unto the contraiy 1 

Rom. 1 know it not, but doubt it ; these the 
giounds : 
'1 lie st-rvaiit of your wife now, young Novall, 
The son unto your father's enemy 
(Which aggravates presumption the mote), 
I ha>'e been warn'd of, touclungher: — nay, seen 

them 
lied heart to heart, one in another's arms, 
Multi()l\ ing kisses, as if they ineiuit 
To ]iose aritliinetic ; or whose eves would 
3^e first burnt out with gazing- on the other's. 
I saw their mouths engender, and their pnlms 
Glew'd as if love had lock'd them ; their words 

flow 
And melt each other's, like two cii-cling flames, 
Where chastitv, like a phoenix, methought buin'd. 
But left the world nor ashes, nor an heir. — 
Why stand you silent thus? what cold dull phlegm, 
As if you had no drop of choler mix'd 
In your whole constitution, thu> pi-evails. 
To fix you now thus stupid, hearing this? 

Cliarul. Vou did not see him on my couch within. 
Like George a-horseback, on her, nor a-bed ? 

Rom. No. 

Charal. Ha! ha! 

Rom. Laugh you ! even so did your wife, 
And her indulgent father. 

CiuraL. '1 hey were wise: 
Wouldst have me be a fool ? 

Rom. No, but a man. 



Charal. There is no dram of manhood to suspect 
On such thin airy circumstance as this ; 
IMere compliment and courtship. Was this tale 
The hideous monster which you so conceal'd? 
Away, thou curious impertinent*. 
And idle searcher of such lean, nice toys ! 
Go, thou seditious sower of debate. 
Fly to such matches, where the bridegroom doubts 
He liolds not worth enough to countervail 
'i'he virtue and the beauty of his wife ! 
Thiu buzzing drone, that 'bout my ears dost hum. 
To strike thy rankling sting into my heart, 
Whose venom time nor medicine could assuage. 
Thus do I j)Ut thee oft"! and, confident 
In mine own innocencyand desert, 
Daie not concei\e her so unreasonable. 
To put Novall in balance against me ; 
An upstart, craned up to the height he has. 
Hence, busybody ! thou'rt no friend to me. 
That must be kept to a wife's injury. 

Rom. Is't possible? — farewell, fine honest man! 
Sweet-temper'd lord adieu! What apoplexy 
Hath knit sense u|)? is this Romont's reward? 
Bear witness, the great spirit of thy father. 
With what a healtliful hoi)e I did administer 
1 his potion, that hath wrought so virulently! 
I not accuse thy wife of act, but would 
Prevent her precipice to thy oishonour, 
Which now thy tai-dy sluggishness will admit. 
Would 1 had seen thee graved with thy great sire, 
Ere lived to have men's marginal fingers point 
At Charalois, as a lamented storyt ! 
An emperor j)ut away his wil'e for touching 
Another man ; "but tliou wouldst have thine tasted, 
And keep her, 1 think. — Phoh ! I am a.fiie 
'Jo warm a dead man. that waste out myself. 
Bleed} — What a plague, a vengeance, is't to me. 
If you will be a cuckold ? here, 1 show 
A s» ord's point to thee, this side you may shun, 
Or that, the peril ; if you will run on, 
1 cannot help it. 

Charal. Didst thou never see me 
Angry, Romont? 

Horn. Ves, and pursue a foe 
Like lightning. 

Chiiral. Prithee, see me so no more : 
T can be so again. Put up thy sword. 
And take thyself away, lest I draw mine. 

Rom. Come, fright your foes wit.'i I'rtifi, sir! 
I'm your friend. 
And dare stand by you thus. 

Charal. Thou art not my friend. 
Or being so, thou iirt mad ; I must not buy 
Thy friendship at this rate. Had 1 just causw. 



* Away thoii curious impeitineiit,] This is an alluiion to 
the liile ul one of Cir> itulfs' iiovtls, which were lii'^-h read 
and adiniie I in iMHS^iiiyti's time, 
t '/ ould I had sfen tliee graved with thij yreat sire, 
Ere lived to have men's iiiHrgiiial lingers \>oiul 
At Ch.irrtloij, as a aineiited !-ti>ij'!| This is a most beau 
til'iil allii.'ion to tlie ancient custom of |ilaciiig an index 
( (C^ ) m tlie margin of booivs, to direct the reader's atten- 
tion to the slriliiiii; passages. Massiiiger fell nvs Sliak- 
speaie in drawing his illustrations from the most lamiliar 
objei ts. 

I Jileed—] So the quarto; Coxeter has ^/ooii ; which Mr. 
M. Mason P"int» as if it were an oath. This, liowever, ■■ 
nut the auliua's mcining : he was about to say, periiaps, 
Bleed (lor one Ih.t IV.I- rioi lor himselt!) or soineliiing 
eiinivalent to it: but his iinpaiie t indi,i;naiion will not let 
hiiii proceed, and he bursts out into exclamatory' iiilerio- 
KHtlons. 



«36 



THE FATAL DOVVRY. 



[ArrlV 



rhou know'st I *.orst pursue such injury 

Tlirouoli fire, air, water, eartlj, nay. were they all 

Shuffled iigiiin to chaos ; but there's none. 

Tiiy skill, Ilomont, consists in camps not courts. 

Farewell, uncivil* man ! lei's meet no more : 

Here our long web of friendship I untwist. 

Shall 1 go whine, walk pale, and lock my wife. 

For nothing, from her birlh's frpe liberty, 

That open'cl mine to me ? yes ; if 1 do, 

The name of cuckold then dog me with scorn ! 

I am a Frenchman, no Italian born. \^Exit. 



Uom. A dull Dutch rather: fall and cool, ray 

blood! 
Boil not in zeal of tliy friend's hurt so high, 
'J"liat is so low and cold himself in't' Woman, 
How strong art thou ! how easily beguiled ! 
How thou dost rack us by the verv horns ! 
Now wealth, I see, change manners and the 

man. 
Sometliing 1 must do mine own wrath to assuage, 
And note my friendship to an after age. 

[Exit. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE 1.—A Room in Novall's House. 

HovAi.-L junior, diicorered sealed he/ore a hohiiig-gliisa, 
with a Barber ajK^ Veriumar dres-iiighishair, while 
a Tailor adjmls a iieiv suit which he wears. Lila- 
DAM, Aymer, and a Page ulte.nding. 

Noo.jun. Mend this a little : pox ! thou hast 
burnt me. Oh, fie upon't ! lard! he has made 
me smell for all the world like a flax, or a red-headed 
woman's chamber : Powder, powdtr, powder I 

Peif. Oh, sweet lord I 

Page. That's his jierfumer. 

Tait Oh, dear lord! 

Page. 1 hat's his tailor. 

Nou.jiai. Monsieur I.iladam, Aymer, how allow 
you the model of these clothes? 

Aym. Admirably, admirably; oh, sweet lord! 
assuredly it's pity the worms should eat thee. 

P(/ge. Here's a fine cell ! a lord, a tiilor, a per- 
fumer, a barber, and a pair of monsieurs; three to 
three ; as little wit in ilie one as honesty in the 
other. 'Sfoot! I'llinto the country again, le;irn to 
speak truth, drink ale, and converse with my fa- 
ther's tenants : here 1 hear nothing all day, hut— 
Upon my soul, as lam a gentlrman, and an honest 
man ! 

Aym. I vow and affirm, your tailor must needs be 
an expert geometrician ; he has the longitude, lati- 
tude, altitude, profundity, every dimension of your 
body, so exquisitely— here's a lace laid as directly as 
if truth were a tailor. 

Page. That were a miracle. 

Lilad. With a Irair's- breadth's error, there's a 
shoulder-piece cut, and the base of a pickadille in 
puncto. 

Aym. You are right, monsieur ; his vestments 
sit as if they grew uppn him, or art had M-rought 
them on the same loom as nature framed his lord- 
ship ; as if your tailor were deeply read in astrology, 
and had taken measure of your honourable body with 
a Jacob's stall', an ephimerides. 

Tait. I am bound t' ye, i;entlemen. 

Page. You are deceived ; they'll be botind to you : ' 
you must remember to trust them none. 

Nor.jtin. Nay, 'faith, tlmu art a reasonable neat 
artificer, give the devil his due. 

Page. Ay, if he would but cut the coat according 
to the cloth still. 

hlov.jun. 1 now want only my mistress' approba- 
jLiMi. who is, indeed, the most polite punctual tiueen 



of dressing in all Burgundy — ^pah ! and makes all 
other young ladies appear as if tliey came from 
board last week out of the country : is't not true, 
Liladam ? 

Lihid. True, my lord ! as if any thing your lord- 
ship could say could be otherwise than true. 

Nor.jiin. Nay, o' my soul, 'tis so; what fouler 
object in the world, than to see a voung, fair, 
handsome beauty unliandsomely dighted, and in- 
congruently accouir'd; or a hopeful chevalier uu^ 
methodicaliy appointed in the external ornaments of 
nature! For, even as the iadex tells us the ton- 
tents of stories, and directs to the particular cl;np- 
ters, even so does the outward habit and superiicial 
order of garmenl-s (in man or woman) give us a 
taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point i as it 
were a manual note from the margin) all the in- 
ternal quality and habiliment of the soul ; and iliere 
cannot be a more eviaeiit, palpable, gross manifest- 
ation of poor, degenerate, dungliilly blood and 
breeding, than a rude, unpolished, disordered, and 
slovenly outsidet. 

Page. An admirable lecture ! oh, all you gallants, 
that hope to be s..ved by your clothes, edifv, ediiy ! 

Aym. By the Lard, sweet lard, thou deseivest a 
pension o' the state. 

Page. O' the tailors : two such lords were able to 
spread tailors o'er the face of llie whole i\ing(lom. 

Nov.juH. Pox o' this glass ! it flatters. — 1 could 
find in my lieart to break it. 

Poge. O, save the glass, my lord, and break their 
heads; 
They are the greater llatterers, I assure you. 

Aym. Flatters ' detracts, impairs— yet, put it by. 
Lest tliou, dear lord. Narcissus like, should'st doat 
Upon thyself, and die ; and rob the world 
Of nature s i opy, tliat she works form by. 

Lilad. Oh that 1 were the infanta queen of Europe ! 
Whi> but thyself, sweet lord, shoulil marry me ! 

Nov.jun. I marry ! were there a q'leen o' the 
world, not i. 



* Fari'well, uncivil man!] i. e. iiniiccjiiHinted willi tliu 
usages and ciistutns at civil ur municipal lil'u. 

t Tliis empty CDXconib was afterwards improved into llie 
sedate and tnttitaining fop ol' Cilibtr and Vaiibioii^li s a^e. 
Wlietlier tliey copied lioin nature I cannotsay; bill Hie beau 
of our diMiiias, wliose wii liis alloj^ellier in Ibe ivsll. s.s acti- 
vity of bis legs and arms, resembles no animal raiion.d or 
irrational, Willi wbich I am acquainted, unless it be a iiion 
key tbat lias just siiapt its cbaio. 



Scene I.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



331 



Wedlock ! no ; padlock, horselock ; — I wesir s])urs 

[ He Capers. 
To keep it off my heels. Yet, my Aymer, 
Like a free, wanton jennet in tlie meadows, 
I look about, and neij^li, take hedge and ditch, 
Feed in my neighbours' pastures, pick my choice 
Of all their fair-nianed mares: but married once, 
A man is staked or jioiin'd, and cannot graze 
Beyond bis own hedge. 

Enter PoNTALiEii and RIalotin. 

Pont. I have waitpd, sir, 
Three hours to speak wi'ye, and not take it well 
Such magpies are admitted, whilst 1 dance 
Attendance. 

LiLid. .Magpies! what d'ye take me for? 

Pont. A long thing with a most unpromising face. 

Aym. I'll never ask him what betakes me for? 

Malot. Do not, sir, 
For he'll go near to tell you. 

Pont. Art not thou 
A barbfcr-surgeon ? 

Barb. Yes, sirrah ; why ? 

Pont. Wy lord is sorely troubled with two scabs. 

Lilud. A\jm. Hum 

Pont. 1 prithee cure him of them. 

Nov. jiin. Pisn ! no more. 
Thy gall sure's overflown ; these are my council, 
And we were no a- in serious discourse. 

Pont. Of perfume and apparel ! Can you rise, 
And spend five iiours in dressing-talk with these? 

Nov. Jan. riiou 'Idst have me be a dog : up, stretch, 
and shake, 
And ready for all day. 

Pont. Sir, would vou be 
More curious in preserving of your honour trim, 
It were more manly. I am come to wake 
Your reputation from this h-thargy 
You let it sleep in : to persuade, importune, 
Nay, to provoke you, sir, to call to account 
This colonel Romont, for the foul wrong 
Which, like a burthen, he hath laid upon you. 
And, like a drunken p<irter, you sleep under, 
'Tis all the town talks"; and, believe it, sir. 
If your tough sense persist thus, you are undone. 
Utterly lost ; you will be scorn'd and bafHed 
By every lacquey : season now your youth 
With one brave thing, and it shall keep the odour 
Even to your death, beyond, and on your tomb 
Scent like sweet oils and frankincense. Sir, this life. 
Which once you saved, 1 ne'er since counted mine ; 
I borrowed it of you, and now will pay it : 
I tender you the service of my sword 
To bear your challenge, if you'll write, your fate 
I'll make mine own ; whate'er betide you, I, 
That have lived by you, by your side will die. 

Nov.jini. Ha! Ha! wouldst have me challenge 
poor Komont I — 
Fight with close breeches, thou may'st think I dare 
nott : 



^ • 'Tis all the town t.ilks,] So llie quarto ; which is surely 

better iliiii town-lalk, wliich the moilern editors have substi- 
tuted ill its plaii'. 

+ Fii/lil with close breeches, thnu mayst think I dare not :"[ 
Coxtter ..11(1 Mr. M. Mdsoii point iliis as if ihey supposed 
close breeches leJcrred lo Rumont; but it is not so. In an- 
swer to tlie chari;e ^>;' cowaKlice, Novall tills I'ontalier, that 
thougii lie may lonclnde, IVi.m liis finical appearance, and 
his vestments sitting as if they grew upon him, tliat he 
was ati.U'l of Itoiiiniit, he was iiiistal<iMl. It is t.'ie poverty, 
not the close breeches of liis enemy which prevents his chal- 



Do not mistake me coz, 1 am very valiant; 

But valour shall not make me sue!) an ass. 

What use is there of valour now a-davs ' 

'I'is sure or to be kill'd, or to be hang'd. 

Fiiiht thou as tliy mind moves tliee, 'tis tliy trade ; 

Thou hast nothing eke to do. Fight with" Romont 

No, I'll not fight under a lord. 

Pont. Farewell, sir ! 
I pity you 

Such living lords walk, their dead honour's graves ; 
For no companioiis fit but fools and knaves. 
Come, Malotin. [EieniU Poutalier and Mulotin 

Enter Ro.mo.nt. 

Lilad. 'Sfoot, Colbrand, the low giant ! 

Ai/m. He has brought a battle in his face, let's o-o. 

Page. Colbrand, d'ye call him? he'll make some 
of you* 
Smoke, I believe. 

Rom. By your leave, sirs ! 

Aym. Are you a consortt ? 



* Page. Colbrand, d'ye call him? hell make some of you 

Smoke, I believe.] It is as rare to tind a iMiiicuit in' Mas- 
singer as to miss one in liis (!onieinporarits : lure, lunvtver, 
there appears somttliin^ like an attempt to fin;l re><inbl.ince 
between Colbrand and cold brand! In jnsliic lo tlie jiulior 
it should be added, that it is put into liie iiioiiili of a p.ige. 
Colbrand was a l)ani-h i;iint, as may be seen in '/'he Re- 
nowned history of Guy Earl of Warwick, everv iliild s de- 
light. 

+ Aym. Are you a consort ?] i. e. come you here to b« 
played on. CoXEitR. 

This cannot be the meaning, for a concert is not played on. 
jM. Mason. 

A conceit is understood to mean instruments played upon. 
Divis. 

And thus the text is illustrated ! Not one of these sientle- 
men had the slia;hest idea of what M^ssin>;er was sas im^, nor, 
which thoui^h not nncoinmon is jet somewhat more "extra- 
ordinary, of what he wa> ."a.ini; lihiiself. 

Ill the author's aiie, the taverns were infested with iliner- 
ant bands of musicians, each of whir.li (joiiitU and imlividu- 
ally) was called a noise i.ir consort .- tlie-e wnv MiiieUms in- 
invited to play to the company, but seem iii. re fieipieiitly to 
have thrust themselves, unasked, into it, witli an orii i i.f iheir 
services: th.ir imrusion was usually prefaced with, '• By 
your have, gentlemen, will \oii hear any mii>ic T Out ex- 
ample, in a case where hundreds miiilit easilj be produced, 
will make all clear : 

" Enter Fifldler to the company. 

"Fid. Will't please you, gentiemen, to hear any mu 
sic ? 

" Bov. Shall we have any ? 

" Seb. By no means; it takes from our mirth. 

" liov. Begone, then ! 

" Eid A very gooil sone, an't please you? 

"•S'eb. This is the trick of taverns when men desire to 
be private." Shirley's Love s Cruel'v- 

Komont, who had brok.n into Nnv-.-dl's ilressin^-room, 
with the customary phrase. By yi'ur leave, geiillimen, na- 
turally draws from Aymer (a musician) the rpie-tiiui he 
puts ; anil Romont, who understands liim, as ii.tiiially re- 
plies, I will show yon that I am not: inusuians are paid, 
whereas I will pay (beat) jou. This is ih.- seiie of ihe 
passage. I have before remarked on the strange conduct of 
Mr. Al. Mason, in clianging consort io concert, as often as it 
occurs. 

Not many years since, a volume of Comments on the 
Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, was piibli hcil by the 
Ri<.dit Honourable J. IMoiick Mason, in uhich, among 
other passages, I was somewhat struck wiih the follow- 
ing : — 

" Or be of some good concert." The Captain. 
"The old reading is consort, which the edituis li.ne injudi- 
ciously clian>:ed to concert n mistake wliich the etU/or.i of 
Shakspeare have also run iiiio." 

i'liongh this may be true, it required a certain iliu'iee ot 
intrepidity to enable a man who never saw the »oid in Mas- 
singer without corruplinsjit, to hazird a sneer of rlii.: ii.iliiie 
at theeditois of Shakspeare. It must he reineiiiberrd tli.it I 
speak on Ihe siipposilion dial the author of the C '-mnentj 
was also the editor of Massinger. 



532 



TIIK FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act IV 



Rom. Do vou take me for 
A fiddler? you're deceived: look! Til pay you. 

[Kicks them. 

Page. It seems lie knows you one, be bum fiddles 
you so. 

Lilad. Was there ever so base a fellow ? 

Aym. A rascal. 

Litad. A most uncivil groom. 

Avm. Offer to kick a gentleman in a nobleman's 
chamber ! pox o' your manners ! 

LiLiid. Let him alone, let him alone: thou shall 
lose thv aim, fellow ; if we stira^ainst thee, hani,;- us. 

Fage 'Sloot ! I think lliey have the better oil liiin 
thouijh they be kick'd, they talk so. 

Lilad. Let's leave the mad ape. [Going. 

Nov. jun. Gentlemen ! 

Lilud. Nay, my lord, we will not offer to dis- 
honour you 80 much as to stay by you, since he's 
alone. 

Nov. jun. Hark you ! 

Aum. We doubt die cause, and will not disparage 
you so much as to take your lordship's (jLarrnl in 
hand. Plague on him, how he has crumpled our 
bands ! 

Page. I'll e'en away with them, for this soldier 
beats man, woman, and child. 

[Exeunt all but Noralljun. and Romcnt. 

Nov.jnn. What mean you, sir? lMypeo])!e! 

Rom. Vour boy s gone. [Locks the dom: 

And your door's lock'd ; yet fir no hurt to you, 

But jiriviicv. Call up your blood again : 

Be not afraid, I do beseech you, sir*; 
And, theretore, come, without more circumstance. 
Tell me liow far tlie passages have gone 
'Twixt you and your fair mistress, lieauniplle. 
Tell me the truth, and, by my hope of heaven. 
It ne\ftr ^luill go further. 

Nov. jun. Tell vou ! why, sir. 
Are you my confessor? 

Rom. I will be your confounder, if you do not. 

[Draws a jiocket dug\. 
Stir not, nor spend your voice. 

Nov.jnn. W hat will you do ? 

Rom. Nothing, but line your brain-pan, sir, with 
If you not satisfy me suddenly : [lead, 

I am des[)eiate of my life, and command yours. 

Nor. jun. Hold I hold! I'll speak. I vow to 
lipaveii and you, 
She's yet uniouch'd, more than her face and hands. 
I cannot call her innocent ; for, I yield, 
On my solicitous wooing^, she consented, 



• Be not afraid I do beseech you, sir,] This line is who ly 
omitif'i ill tlie most coiiect of all e:liiioiis. 

t Draws a pocket (lag.) So llie olil copy. Coxcter, not 
nnflci'slaiiiliiii; the word, absiirdly coniipiKl it into dci/ynj 
which j;ave iiii OL-cisioii to Mr. M. Ma.-oii to evince In.i pa- 
gaiity : " Ye'," says he «ilh a triumph over poor .Vlas.-iniji i; 
" Roinoiu's voiy next spceili shores that tins dayyer was a 
■pistol." To s.ipiiisiicite an aiithor's text toy Ihesakeof dials;- 
iiig hi.ri wiili an ab.-iinliiy, is haul ilealiiig. It is singular 
that miilnr oftlicsf editors of an ancif nt poet, especially the 
last, wlio nils ns of the nciessily of consulting coiitempoiaiy 
aatlior>, slioid.l be appri/.ed of the meaning of this teiin : 
day was msimI b\ oui old >v liters for a pocket in contrailis- 
:ii.clioii lo what we now call a horse-pi-tol ; anil is thus loiiiid 
in many draiins of ilie Kith and I7ili cenlmies. Thus, in 
The Spaii'sh Traydy, which Coxeter, if not Mr. M. Ma- 
eon, iioi.-t have rea I : 

■' St-rb W hereCori- should he send for me so late? 

" l^end. Fur this, Serberins, and thou shall have it. 

[Shoots the dag. 

•• Jf'ati-h. Hark ! gentlemen ; this is a ^i»7()/--lioi." 

lOn my so/it:itnus woinng,] Tlie ipiarto erroiieuusly reads 
wronys : amended by Air. AI. Mason. 



Where time and place met opjiortunity, 
To grant me all requests. 
Horn. But may 1 build 
On this assurance? 

Nov.jnn, As upon vour fai'h, 
Rom. Writi this, sir ; nay, you must. 
Nov.jnn. Pox of this gun I 

Rom. Withal, sir, you must swear, and put youi 
oath 
Under your hand (shake not"), ne'er to fiequent 
'I'his lady's company, nor ever sc nd 
Token, or message, or letter, to incline 
Ibis, too much prone already, yielding lady. 
Nov.jnn. 'lis done, sir. 
Rom. Let me see this first is right : 
And here you wish a sudden death may light 
Upon your body, and hell lake vour soul, 
If ever more you see her, but by chanee ; 
Much less allure her. l\o\v, my lord, your hand 
Nov.jnn. J\Iy hand to this ! 
Rom. Your heart else, 1 assure you. 
Nov.jnn. Nay, there 'tis. 
Rom. So ! keep this last nrticle 
Of your faith given, and ste id of threatenings, sir. 
The service of my sword and life is yours. 
But not a word of it : — 'tis fairies' treas'ire. 
Which but revenl'd, brings on the blubber's i'uin. 
Use your youth better, and this excellent form 
Heaven hath bestow'd upoj* vou. So good morrow 
To vour lordship ! [Exit. 

Nov.jnn. Good devil to your rogueship ! No 

man's safe 

I'll have a cannon planted in my chamber, 
Against such roaring rogues. 

Enter Beli.ai'efit ha.^lily 

Bell. My lord, away ! 
The carocli stays: now have your wish, and judge 
If I have been forgetful. 

Nov.jnn. 11 ah ! 

Bell. Do you stand 
Humming and liahiiig now? [£xit 

Nov.jnn. Sweet wench, I come. 
Hence, fear! 

I swore — that's all oiie; my next oath I'll keep 
That I did mean to break, and then 'tis tpiit. 
No pain is due to lovers' perjury ; 
If Jove himself laugh at it. so will I. [Exit 



SCENE U.— A Hall in Aymer's Honso. 
Enter CuAUALOts and I'eaumom. 

Beau. 1 grieve for the distaste, though I have 
manners 
Not to enquire the cause, fallen out between 
Your lordship and Ronn nt. 

Charal. 1 love a irieinl, 
So long as he continues mi the bounds 
Prescribed by friendship; but, wlien he usurps 
Too far on* what is projier to mvselt. 
And puts the habit of a governor on, 
1 must and will jiresetve my liberty. 
I3iit speak of something else, this is a theme 
1 lake no jileasure in. W, Inii's this Aymer, 
W hose voice for song, and excellent knowledge in 



• Too far on what, &c ] '1 he moiiern editsr- omit on, to thf 
iii:ioiic-t' i..iiiiv lioih of H'e i'..iii- auil of ilie .musc ; but in 
di.ed their oiiiistioiis in this play are iniminerable. 



ScFNE ir.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



^3H 



The cliit'iest parts of music, you bestow 
Such praises on ? 

Beau, lie is a oentlemau 
(For so his qunliiy* speaks him) well received 
Among' our n-rea'est g-allants ; but yet holds 
His main dependence from the young lord Novall. 
Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head, 
As all musicians have, and more of him 
I dare not auilior: but, when you iiave heard him, 
1 may presume ynur lordship so will like him. 
That you'll hereafter be a friend to music. 

Chiiral. I never vvas an enemy to't, Beaumontt, 
Nor yet do I subscribe to the opinion 
Of thtise o'd captains, that tiiought nothing musical 
But cries of yielding enemies, neighing- of horses, 
Clashing of armour, loud shouts, drums and 

trumpets : 
Nor, on the other side, in favour of it. 
Affirm the world was made by musical discord; 
Or that tiie h.ippiness of oi;v life consists 
In a well-varied note upon the lute : 
I love it to the worth of 'l, and no further. — 
But let us see this wonder. 

Beitit. lie prevents 
My calling- of him. 

Enter AvMER, speaking to one ■•vithin. 

Aym. Let the coach be brought 

To the b ick sate, and serve the banquet up. 

My good lord Charalois! I think my house 
iMuch lionoiir'd in your presence. 

Charul. To have means 
To know ynu better, sir, has brought me hither 
A willing visitant ; and you'll cro"n my welcome 
In making me a witness to your skill, 
Which, (-rediiing from others, I admire. 

Aym. Had I been one liour sooner made ac- 
quainted 
With your intent, my lord, you should have found 

me 
Better provided : now, such as it is. 
Pray your gr.ci' wiih your acceptance. 

Bean. Yo . are modest. 

Aym. IJegin the last new air. 

[To the Miisiciani mthin. 

Cfiarat. Sh;dl we not see them ? 

Au'n. This little distance from the instruments 
Will to your e:irs convey the hainiony 
With more delighr. 

Chiiral. I'll notcontendf. 

Aym. You are tedious. [To ihe Musicians. 

* ( Fnr so /lis qn.ility spiaks him. )] His qiiiiViiy, i. e. his 
profensUin m a iiiiisic-nia-Ii-'i-. In tin- follow ni:; lliius tliore is 
an allii-ioii to .n.i.ilu-r pruiession (of a Ir.<s licpiior.ible nature), 
wliicli, it ill .t liiiic, was connnoiily uiiittd to the former, that 
of kei'(iiii'4 d b iwfl_\lion,»e 

tClinal. / ni'viT was an enemy to't, Uraumnnt, &c.} I 
taspeci that Mr Sltevtns, the eoijijhosiis of coiiMiientators, 
.was bill liltlf acqn .iiiteil with Massinj;er ; lie would not other- 
wise liavi failed to (-outlast this spiieh with til it celebrated 
one of Sli.iVispr lie, 'I he mnn that has no imisic, &c., «iih 
which he w i~ l;no«ii To be hi;;lily ortrndi d. \\ hat Steevens 
ne^leclell llie lea 'er has now an opportiiiiity of eNecutina ; 
and, though I will not anicipate his judi;iiieiit, I ir.ust yet be 
perniitied to say that the beauties of tliis speech are of no 
ordinary Kind. 

: Chaial / // nnt contend.] TIip old reading is I'll not con- 
gent. It appears tome that a wron;; name has been prefixed 
to this short spcei h, and that it belonus to Beaiimelle who 
speaks uiihin Aynier is evidently soliiitoiis to keep C'hara- 
lois .III of licarin;; ; and the artitice is not to be praised by 
which his lady is made so clamorous and so incautious. The 
alteration is by Coxeter. 



By this means shall 1 with one banquet please 
i wo companies, those within and these gulls hoj 

Mtific — and a Sowtj. 

Beaiunel. [i('i//;i»] Ha! ha! ha! 

Cliarat. How's this I It is my lady's laugh, ir.ost 
certain. 
When I first pleased her, in this merry languao;e 
She gave me thanks. [Aside. 

Beau. How like you this ' 

Charal. ' lis rare 

Yet I may be deceived, and should be sorry, 

Upon unceifain sujijiositions, rashh- 

To write myself in the black '.ist of those 

I have dechiim'd against, ar.d to Hoinont. [Aside. 

Aym. I would he were well ofl"! Perhaps 

your lordship 
Likes not these .-ad tunes? T have a new son>-, 
Set to a lighter note may |)lease you better ; 
'Tis call'd the Happy Ihishand. 

Cha,al. Fray you sing it. 

Song hy Aymer. 

Beaumel. [tiithiti] Ha! ha! 'tis such a groom! 

Chiiral. Do I hear this, 
And yet stand doubtful ? [Ihishes oh> 

Aym. Stay* him — I am undone, 
And they discover'd. 

Bejii. What's the matter? 

Aym. Ail ! 
That women, when they're well pleased, cannot 

hold. 
But must laugh out. 

Re-enter Ciiahalois, with his'swnrd dnncn, pi/rsuiT,^- 
Nov.Ai.L 7««(or, Beai».m,ei.i.k, and iiii i apIiIit, 

Noi'.jiin. Help! save me ! murder! muruer ! 

Beaumel. lindone, undone, for ever! 

Charai. Oh, my heart ! 
Hold vet a little — do not hope to 'si ape 
By fligli , ii is im]iossible. I'houoli 1 might 
On all advantage take thy lite, and JusTly ; 
This sword, my fa*her's sword, that ne'er was drawn 
Bu' '- ;. nohle purpose, shall not now 
Do the office of a hangman. I reserve it 
'I'o right mine honour, not for a revenge 
So poor, that thouuh wiih thee it should cut oflF 
'I hy family, with all that are allied 
To thee in lust or baseness, 'twere still short of 
All terms of satisfaction. Draw ! 

Nov. Jun. 1 dare not : 
I have already done you too much wrong, 
To fight in such a cause. 

Charal. W hy, darest thou neither 
Be honest, coward, nor yet valiant, knave ! 
In such a cause come, do not shame thyself: 
Such who-e bloods wrongs, or wrong done to them 

selvesf 
Could never heat, are yet in the defence 
Of their whores, daring. Look on her again : 

• Beaumel. Undone, vndnni;for ever!} This shoit speech 
is taken by the modern edito'S from Keanmelle, and given 
to BeUapert! Nothinij was eve more injudicious. It is ali 
she says, and all she properly could say. 

i.Such tvhose bluodf wronijs, or wron;; doneto themselves 
&c.] 1 b. lieve this means, those whose bloods ^rafra/ or t»- 
dividual injuries could never heat, «.c. If this be not al- 
lowed, we must read, and vvronsdonc to iheinsclves, instead 
of or, the sense will then be sufficiently clear. Coxgter and 
Mr. M. Mason evidently misunderstood the passage, which 
is misprinted in both. 



<J4 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act fV. 



You thought her wortli the huzavcl of your soul, 
And yet st.ind cloubtlul, in her quarrel to 
Venture your boily. 

Bean. No, he fears his clothes, 
More than his flesh. 

Charal. Keep from ine ! pjuard thy life, 
Or, as thou liast lived like a goat, tliou slialt 
Die like a sheep. 

Nov.jun. Since there's no remedy. 
Despair of safety now iu me prove courasfe ! 

[Theujight, Nov'ill falls. 

Charal. How soon weak wrong's o'erthrown? 
J, end me your hand ; 
Bear tiiis to the carocii— come, you have taught me 
To say, you must and shall : 

[Exeunt Beaumont and BeUapert, wHh the Body 
of Novall ; JoUowtd by Bea'imelle. 
I wrong \ou not. 
You are but to keep him comi>any you love. — 

Be-enter Bf,au:mont. 
Is'tdone? 'tis well. Raise officers, and take care 
All you can appreliend within the house 
May be forthcoming. Do I appear much moved ? 
Beau. No, sir. 

Charal. My griefs are now thus to Iw; borne ; 
Hereafter I'll find time and place to mourn. 

[Eieunf. 



SCENE III.— ^ Street. 

Enter Romont and Pontalier. 

Pont. I w;is bound to seek you, sir. 

Rom. And, had you found me 
In any place but in the street, I should 
Have done, — not talk'd to you. Are you the 

captain. 
The hopeful Pontnlier, whom I have seen 
Do in the field such service as then made you 
Their envy th;it commiinded, here at home 
To play the pirasite to a gilded knave, 
And. it may be, the ])ander ! 

Pont. Wilhout this, 
I come to call you to account for what 
Is past already. I. by your example 
Of thankfulness to the dead generid, 
By wliom \ou were raised, have practised to be so 
To my good lord Novall, by whom I live ; 
Whose least disgrace that is or may be otfer'd. 
With all the hazard of my life and fortunes 
I will miike good On you. or any man 
That has a hand in't : and, since you allow me 
A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt 
You will except against me.. You shall meet 
With a fair enemy : you understand 
The riglu I look for, and must have 1 

Rom. I do, 
And witif the next day's sun you shall hear from 
me. [Exeunt. 



SCENE IV. — A Boom in Charalois' House. 

Enter Charalois with a casket, Heaumixle, and 
Bf,ai;5:()Nt. 
Chrirnl. Pray bear this to my father, at his 
leisure 
He may peruse it : 1 ut with your best language 



Entreat liis instant presence. You have swoin 
Not to reveal what 1 have done. 

Beau. Nor will I but 

Charal, Doubt me not ; by heaven, I will do 
nothing 
But what may stand with honour. Pray yon, leave 
me \^E.xit Beaumont. 

To my own thoughts. — If this be to me, rise ; 

[Beaiimelle kneeU. 
I am not worth the looking on, but onlv 
To feed contempt and scorn ; and that from j'ou. 
Who, with the loss of your fair name, have causedit. 
Were too mucli cruelly. 

Beaumel. 1 dare not move you 
To hear me speak. I know my fault is far 
Beyond qualitication or excuse ; 
That 'tis not fit for me to ho|ie, or j'ou 
To think of mercv ; only I presume 
To entieat you would be pleased to look upon 
My sorrow for it. and believe these tears 
Are the true children of ray grief, and not 
A womiin's cunning. 

Charal. Can voii, Beaumelle, 
Having deceived so great a trust as mine, 
Though I wert- all credulity, hope again 
'l"o get belief! No, no : if you look on me 
With pity, or dure practise any means 
To make my sufferings less, or give just cause 
To all the world to think what I must do 
Was Chll'd upon by you, use ot])er ways : 
Deny what I have seen, or justify 
What you have done ; and, as you des[)erati-V 
Made shipwreck of your faith, to be a 'whore, 
Use the arms of such a one, i;»id sucli defcucSi 
And multiply the sin with impntlnnce. 
Stand boldly up, and tell me to my te(-th, 
That you have done but what is warri.iited 
By great exatiiples, in all jilaces wiiere 
Women inhabit ; urge your own deserts. 
Or want of me in merit ; tell me how 
Your dower fn.im the low gnlf of poverty 
Weighed up my fortiines to what they now are; 
'i'hat I was purchased by )Our choice and practi:*. 
To shelter yoii Irom shame, that you might sni 
As boldly as securely : that poor men 
Are manieii to those wives that bring- them wealth, 
(^ne day their husbands, but observers* ever. 
That wlien, bv this proud usage, yon have blown 
The fire of my just vengeance to the height, 
I tlien may kill yon, and yet say 't"as done 
In heat of blood, and after die myself, 
'J"o witness my reppiitance. 

Beaumel. O my fate ! 
That never would consent that I should see 
How worthy you weie both of love and dut)-, 
Before 1 lost you ; and my misery made 
Tlie glass in whicli I now behold your virtue ! 
While I was good I was a part of you, 
And of two, bv the virtuous harmony 
Of our fair minds, made one ; but, since I wandar'd 
In the forbidden hibyrinth of lust. 

What was inseparable is '<\ ire divided. - 

With justice, therefore, you may cut me ' ff. 
And from your nuinory wash the remembrance 
'i'hat e'er l' was ; like to .some vicious jinrpose. 
Which, in your better judgment, y< u repent of 
And study to forget. 



• But observers ^-iv?-.! Observers are ser\ ints : tlie were" 
fit .ueiitlv I'leiirs ill this sense. 



SCEVF. IV.] 



niF. FATAL DOWRY. 



sat 



Cia-rt/. O Benmiielle. 
That you can speak so well and do so ill ' 
But you had been too i'veat a blessing^, if 
You had contituipd clia-iie : see. how ydi foTca tie 
To tliis, because mine lionour will not yield 
That I again should love }0U. 

lieauinel. In this life 
It is not fir you should : vet you shall find, 
Though 1 \va-- jold enough to he a strumpet, 
I dare not yet live one. Let those lamed matrons, 
That are canonized worthy of our sex. 
Transcend me in their sanctity of life ; 
I vet will ei]ual them inMyins;: nobly, 
Ambitious o(' no honour after life, 
But that, when I am dead, you will forgive me 
Charal. How pity steals upon me! should I h<-<»r 

her • [Kiinckiiig within. 

But ten words more, I were lost. — One knoclis, go 

in. [Exit Beaumelle. 

That to be merciful should be a sin ! 
Enter RocnronT. 

O, sir, most welcome ! Let me take your cloak, 

I must not be denied. — Here are your robes, 

As you love justice, once more put them on. 

There is a cause to be determined of. 

That does require such an inteu^rity 

As you have ever used. — I'll put you to 

The trial of your constancy and goodness : 

And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed 

In otber men's affairs, prove not a mole 

In what concerns yourself. Take you your seat ; 

I will be for* you jireseiitly. [Lint. 

Boch. Angels guard me ! 
To what strange tragedy does this inductionf 
Serve fur a prologue? 

Re-enter Ciiaralois, Beaumf.i-le, and Bi-ai'mont, 
witli Servants bearing the Body cf ISovall 
junior. 

Charal. So, set it down before 
The judgment-seat, — [LaeuHt Servants.] — and stand 

you at the bar ; 
For me, 1 am the accuser. 

Rnch. Novall slain ! 
And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place 
Of one to be arraign'd ! 

Charal. O, are you touch'd ! 
I find that I must take another course. 
Fear nothing, I will only blind your eves ; 

[He I'dinds his eyes. 
For justice should do so, when 'tis to meet 
An object that may sway her equal doom 
From what it should be aim'd at. — Good, my lord, 
A day of hearing. 

Rooh. It is granted, speak — 
You shall haye justice. 

Charal. I then lieie accuse, 
Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair daughter, 
For whom I owed so much to you ; your daughter, 
So worthy in her own iiarts, and that worth 
Set forth by yours, to Vthose so rare perfections, 

» / tvill be for ynu presi-nthj.'\ So the quarto : tlie mo- 
dern etiitors read, / ivill before yon presently : Ixit whether 
by mistake, or from an iJea of improving the text, I cannot 
tell. 

t To what stranae tragedy dors tliif induction 
Senvfor a proloyue /] llie old copy reads dorg this de- 
itruction, &c. 'Jhe .imtndineiit, wl ii-li ks a liappy one, wae 
•uggefted by Mr. M. M.,son. Thus in The Guardian: 
"This is but an induction; I 11 draw 
1 he curtains of tlie tragedy hereafter." 



Truth witne.ss with me, in the place of service 
1 almost paid idolatrous sacrifice, 
To be a false adi.lieress. 
Roch. With whom ? 
Charal. With this Novall here dead. 
Roch. Be well adrised ; 
And ere you so. '^tilteress again. 
Her fame depending or it, be most sure 
That she is one. 

Charal. I look them in (he act: 
I know no proof bevond it. 
Rorh. O my hea-", ! 

Charal. A judge should feel no passions. 
Roch. Vei remember 
He is a man, and cannot put off nature. 
What answer makes the prisoner? 

Beaumel. i confess 
The fact I am charged with, and yield myself 
Most miserably guilty. 

Roch. Heaven take mercv 
Upon your soul then ! it must leave vour body.— • 
Now free mine eyes ; 1 dare unmoved look on her, 
[Chiirulois iinhiiid>, his euet, 
And fortify my sentence with strong reasons. 
Since that the politic law provides that servants, 
'i'o whose care we commit our goods, shall die 
If they abuse our trust, what can you look for. 
To whose charge this most hopeful lord gave up 
All be receivetl from his brave ancestors. 
Or he could leave to his posterity. 
His liuijuui , wicked woman I in whose safety 
All his life's joys and comforts were lock'd up. 
Which thy - . - -* lust, a thief, hath now stolen 
from him ; 

And therefore 

Charal Stav, just judge ; — maj" not what's lost 
By her one i'ault ( for 1 am charitable. 
And charge her not with many) be forgotten 
In her lair life hereafter? 

lioch. Never, sir. 
The wrong that's done to the chaste married bed 
R,epentant tears can never expiate; 
And be assured, to pardon such a sin 
Is an offence as great as to commit it. 
Charal. I may not then forgive her? 
Roch. Nor she hojie it. 
Nor can she wish to live : no sun shall rise, 
But, ere it set, shall show her ugly lust 
Jn a new shape, and every one more horrid, 
Nay, even those prayers which, with such humbl 

fervour, 
She seems to send up yonder, are beat back. 
And all su.ts which her penitence can profler. 
As soon as made, are with contempt thrown out 
Of all the courts of mercy. 

Charal. Let her die, then ! [He stabs her 

Better prepared, I'm sure, I could not take her. 
Nor she accurp her father as a judge 
Partial against her. 

Beaumel. I approve his sentence, 
And kiss the executioner. My lust 
Is now run from me in that blood in which 
It was begot and nourish'd. [Di€t. 

Roch. Is she dead, then ? 

Charal. Yes, sir ; this is her heart-blood, i: it not? 
I I think it be. 

• Which th>/ lust, a thief, &c.l Some epithet t. 

lust, h.is been lost at the press; the reader may supply tl« 
break wiih hot, foul, or any other monosyllable of a kinrtrei 
meaning. 



«6 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act V. 



Uoch. And you have kill'd her? 

Charai. True, 
And did it by your doom. 

Rock. But I pronounced it 
\s a iud<;'e only, and a friend to justice ; 
And, zealous in defence of your wrong'd honour. 
Broke all tlie ties of nature, and cast off 
Tlie love and soft affection of a father. 
I, in yoiircr.use, put on a srarlet robe 
Of red dif'd cruelty : but, in return. 
You liave advanced for me rjo flag- of mercy. 
' look'd on you as a wrong'd husband ; but 

ou closed your eyes against me as a father. 

Beaunii lie ! my daughter ! 

Cliaral. This is madness. 

Jtcc/i. Keep from me! — Could not one good 
thought rise up, 
To fell you that she was my age's comfort, 
Begot by a weak man, aind born a woman, 
And could not, therefore, but ])artake of frailty ? 
Or wlierefore did not thankfulness step forth, 
To urge my many merits, which I may 
Object ur.lo you, since you prove ungrateful, 
Flint -hf-aned Charalois ! 

Cliurat. Nature does prevail 
Above your virtue. 



Roch. No ; it gives me eyes 
To pierce the heart of your design against me . 
I find it now, it v% as my slate was aimed at. 
A nobler match was sought for, and the hours 
I lived grew tedious to you : my compassion 
Tow'rds you hath render'd me most miserable. 
And foolish charity undone myself. 
But there's a heaven above, from whose just wreak 
No mists of policy can hide offenders. 

Nov. sen. [withiu'l Force ope the doors! — 

Enter Novall senior, with Officers. 

' O monster ! cannibal ! 
Lay hold on liim. My son, my son ! — O llochfoit_, 
'Twas you gave liberty to this bloody wolf, 

To worry all our comforts : but this is 

No time to quarrel ; now give your assistance 
For the revenge 

Roch. Call it a fitter name, 
Justice for innocent blood. 

Charai. Though all conspire 
Against that life which I am weary of, 
A little longer yet I'll strive to kee(> it, 
To show, in spite of malice and their laws, 
His plea must speed, that hath an lionesl cauoe 

f Kxeuiifc 



ACT V. 



SCENE J.— A Street. 
Enter Tailor and ttiv Bailiffs with Liladam. 

Liiiit. Why, 'tis both most unconscionable and 
untimely, 
To arrest a gallant for his clothes, before 
He has worn them out : besides, you said you 

ask'd 
My name in my lord's bond but for form only. 
And now you'll lay me upfor't! Do not think 
The taking- measure of a customer 
By a brace of varlets*, though 1 rather wait 
Never so patiently, will prove a fashion 
Which any courtier or inns-of-court-raan 
Would follow willingly. 

Tail. There I believe you. 
But, sir, 1 must have present monies, or 
-Assurance to secure me when 1 shall; 
Or 1 will see to your coming forth. 

Lihul. Plague on't ! 
You hvive provided for my entrance in. 
That coining forth you talk of concerns me. 
What shall 1 do ? you have done me a disgrace 
In the arrest, but more in giving cause 
To all the street to think I cannot stand 
Without these two su])porters for my arms. 
Pray you, let them loose me : for their satisfaction, 
1 will not run away. 

Tai'. For theirs you will not ; 
But for your own you would ! Look to him, fellows. 

Liidd. Why do you call them fellows? do not 
wrong 
Your reputation so. As you are merely 

'- Bu a brace of varlets,] So our old writers call tlie sUe- 
rid't otiicers. 



A tailor, fiiithful, apt to believe in gallants. 

You are a companion at a leii-crown supper 

For cloth of bodkin, and may with one lark 

Fat up three manchets, and no man observe you, 

Or call your trade in question for't. But, when 

You study your debt-hook, and hold coirespondenc* 

With officers of the hanger, and leave swordsmen 

Tlie learn'd conclude, the tailor and the serjeant 

Li the expression of a knave and thief, 

'J'o be synonyma*. Look, therefore, to it, 

And let us part in peace, I would be loth 

You should undo yourself. 

Enter Novall senior, and PoTALiEn. 

Tail. To let you go 
Were the next way. But see ! here's your old Icrd) 
Let him but give his word I shall be paid. 
And vou are free. 

LiUid. 'Slid ! 1 will put him to't, 
I can be but denied : or — vibat say vou ? 
His lordship owing me three times your debt. 
If you arrest him at my suit, and let me 
Go run before, to seethe action enler'd, 
'Twould be a witty jest ! 

Tail. I must have earnest: 
I cannot pay my debts so. 

Po)it. Can yiiur lordship 
Imagine, while 1 live, and wear a sword. 
Your sou's death shall be unrevenged? 



• To be synonyma.] Here again Mr. M. Mason follows 
Coseter in readnii; synonxnioiis: but (lie old word was that 
wliich I liHve given. So Jon«(in : 

" W'lieie every tinker for liis clunk may cry, 
Ro);iie, li.iwd, and clieatei-, c.dl jon liy ilie snrnames 
And k now nsynoupma ot'.M.iir profession." — 'I'he Aetti Itm, 
See 'J'he Emperor o/ the £ast. 



SCFNE II.] 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



^17 



Nov. sen. 1 know not 
One reason vvhv vou should not do like others: 
I am sure, of all the herd tluit ted upon him, 
I cannot see in a;iv,#io\v- he's gone, 
In pity or in ihankt'ulness, one true sign 
Of sorrow for him. 

Pont. All his bounties yet 
Fell not in such uutijankfiil f^^round : 'tis true, 
He had weaknesses, but such as few are free from ; 
And, thougli none soothed them lesi^ than I (for now, 
To say that I foresaw tiie dangers that 
Would rise from cherishing them, were but un- 
timely), < 
1 yet c mid wish the justice that you seek for 
In the revenge, had been trusted to me, 
And not the uncertain issue of the laws. 
It has robb'd me of a noble testimony 
Of what I durst do for him : — but, however. 
My foifeit life redeem'd by him, though dead, 
Shall do him service. 

Nov. sen. As far as my grief 
Will give me leave, 1 thank you. 

Lilad. L), my lord ! 
Oh my good lord I deliver me from these furies. 

Pont. Arrested ' this is one of them, whose base 
And abject flattery help'd to dig his grave : 
He is not worth your pity, nor my anger. 
Go to the basket, and repent*. 

Nov. sen. Away ! 
I only know thee itow to hate thee deadly : 
I will do nothing for thee. 

Lilad. i\ or you, captain? 

Pont. No ; to your trade again ; put off this case : 
It may be, tlie discovering what you were, 
When your unfortunate master took you up, 
May move compassion in your creditor. 
Confess the truth. 

l^Exeun* Novall sen. and Pontalier. 

Lilad. And now 1 think on't better, 
I willf. Brother, your hand; your band, sweet 

brother : • 

I'm of your sect, and my gallantry but a dream. 
Out of which these two fearful apparitions. 
Against my will, have waked me. This rich sword 
Grew suddenly out of a tailor's bodkin ; 
These hangers from my vads and fees in hell ; 
And where as now this beaver sits, full often 
A thrifty cap, composed ol broad-cloth lists, 
Near-km unto the cusiiion where 1 sat 
Cross-legg'd, and yet ung-.irter'd, hath been seen : 
Our breakfasts, famous for the butter'd loaves, 
I have with joy been oft acquainted with ; 
And therelbre use a conscience, though it be 
Forbidden in our hall towards other men. 
To me, that, as 1 have been, will again 
Be of the brotherhood. 

1 Bail. I know liira now ; 
He was a ])rentice to Le Robe at Orleans. 

Lilad. And from thence brought by my young 
lord, now dead. 
Unto Dijon, aud wuh him, till this hotir. 



* Go to the basket, and repent.'] The allusion is to the sheriff's 
batket, ill which broken meat was collected for the use of 
prisoners for debt. See The City Madam. 

iUViA. And now J Ihiiili on't better. 

I wilt, <btc.] This Is most e\i)iiisite mock heroic ; it is, 
perhaps, a little out of p;ace; Imt it serves opportunely 
enoiii;h to prose how ditlereutly Iht comic part of this drama 
would have appeared, if the whole had fortunately fallen into 
tbe bands of Massin^er. 



Have been received here for a complete monsieur. 
Nor wonder at it : for but tithe our gallants. 
Even those of the first rank, and you will find 
In every ten, one, peradventui'e two. 
That smell rank of the dancing-scliool or fiddle. 
The pantofle or pressing-iron : — but hereafter 
NN'e'll talk ot this. 1 will surrender up 
My suits again : there cannot be much loss; 
'Tis but the turning of the lace, with one 
Addition more you know of, and what wants 
I will work out. 

Tail. Then here our quarrel ends : 
The gallant is lurn'd tailor, and all friends. 

ExeunU 



SCENE U.— The Court of Justice. 
Enter Romont and Beaumont. 

Bom, You have them ready ? 

Beau, ^'es, and they will speak 
Their knowledge in this cause, when you think fit 
i'o have them call'd upon. 

Rom. 'Tis well ; and something 
[ can add to their evidence, to prove 
This brave revenge, which they would have call'd 

murder, 
A noble justice. 

Beau. In this you express 
(The breach by my lord's want of you new made up*) 
A faithful friend. 

Rom. i hat friendship's raised on sand. 
Which every sudden gust of discontent. 
Or flowing of our passions, can change, 
As if it ne'er had been : — but do you know 
V\ ho are to sit on him 1 

Beau. Monsieur Du Croy, 
Assisted by Charmi. 

Rom. I'he advocate 
That pleaded for the marshal's funeral. 
And was check'd for it by Novall ? 

Beau. The same. 

Rom. How fortunes that ? 

Beau. Why, sir, ray lord Novall 
Being the accuser, cannot be the juilge ; 
Nor would grieved Rochfort but lord Charalois, 
However he might wrong him by his powfei*. 
Should have an equal hearing. 

Ron. By my hopes 
Of Ciiaralois' acquittal, I lament 
i'hat reverend old man's fortune. 

Beau. Had you seen him, 
As, to my grief, I have, now promise patience. 
And, ere it was believed, though spake by him 
That never brake his wordf, enraged again 
So tar as to make war upon those hairs, 
Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume 
To touch, but with a superstitious fear. 
As something sacred ; — and then curse his daughter. 
But with more frequent violence, himself, 

* (77ic breach by my lord's ivant of you new made up)] 
For new inaile up, Mr. j\l. Mason ihoojes to read, hoio 
made up, although it be not easy to discover what is gained 
by the alteration. For the rest, this Homont still coiiliniies 
a most noble fellow. How Rowe eould read liis iie>t speech 
and de!;rade his copy {Horatio; into a .senliauiild rliap-o- 
dist, querulous, captious, and unfeelinj;, 1 cannot conjciinre 
unless it were thil he determined lo create no violent in- 
terest for any of his characters but the hero and tlie heroine 
ot the piece. 

t That never brake hi8 word,] So the old copy. Mr. M. 
Mason reads breaks his word I 



M8 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



[ActV. 



As if he had been STuilty of her fault, 

By being; incredulous of your repirt, 

You would not only juds;e him worthy pity, 

But suffer with hini : —but htre comes the prisoner ; 

Enter Officers with Charalois. 
I dare not stay to do my duly to him ; 
Yet rest a-.sured, all possibU' means in me 
T ) do him service keeps you company. [Exit. 

Jv:vn. It is not doubted. 

Chiiral. Why, yet as I lamT hither, 
The iieople, apt to mock calamity, 
And tread on the oppress'd, made no liorns at me, 
Tlion|;h they are too familiar 1 deseri^e them. 
And, knowings too what blood my sword liath drunk, 
In wreak of that disgrace, they yet forbear 
To sliake their heads, or to revile me for 
A murderer; th-ey rather all put on. 
As for o-reat losses the old llomans used, 
A general face of sorrow, waited on 
By a sad murmur breaking tliiough their silence . 
And no eye but was readier with a tear 
To witness 'twas shed for me, than I could 
Discern a face made up with scorn against me. 
Why should I, then, though for unusual wrongs 
I chose unusual means to right tliose wrongs, 
Condemn myself, as over-pan ial 
In my own cause? — Romont ! 

Bom. Best friend, well met ! 
Bv my heart's love to you, and join to that. 
My thankfulness that still lives to the dead*, 
I look upon you now with more true joy 
Than wl'.en I saw you married. 

Chiiral. You have reason 
To give you warrant for't: my falling off 
From suL-h a friendship, with tiie scorn that answered 
Your too prophetic counsel, may well move you 
To think your meeting me, going to my death, 
A fit encounter for that hate which justly 
I have deserved from you. 

Rom. Shall I still, then. 
Speak truth, and be ill understood 1 

Charal. You are not. 
I am conscious I have wrong'd you ; and allow me 
Only a moral manf, — to look on you, 
Whiim foolishly I have abused mil injured, 
Must of necessity be more terrible to ine. 
Than any death the judges can pronounce 
From the tribunal which I am to plead at. 

Bom. Passion transports you. 

Charal. For what I have done 
To my false lady, or Novall, I can 
(jive some apparent cause ; but touching you, 
In my defence, child-like, I can say nothing 
Bui I am sorry for't ; a poor satisfaction ! 
And yet, mistake me not; for it is more 
Than 1 will speak, to have my pardon sign'd 
For all I stand accused of. 

Bom. You much w^eaken 
The strength of your good cause, should you but 

think, 
A man for doing well could entertain 
A pardon, were it ofter'd ; you have given 



• My thankfulness that stilt lives to the dead,] i. e. to the 
Md marshal, whom Romont never lorgets, nor sutlers bis 
hwiiers to Curget. 

^ and allow me 

Only a mural man, — 1 i. e. allow ine ty he endowed only 
with the common princijjles of inoralilj (ottling aside those 
; rcliiiion), and to look on jou, &i' 



To blind and slow-])aced justice win^s and ej'es 
To si-e and overttike impieties. 
Which, from a cold proceeding, had received 
Indulgence or protection. 

Charal. Think you so ! 

Bom. \J\wi\ my soul ! nor should the blood you 
challenged. 
And took to cure your honour, breed more scruple 
In your soft conscience, than if your swo^J 
Had been slieath'd in ;» tiger or she-bear*, 
'I'hat in their bowels would have made your tomb. 
To injure innocence is more than inurd<:-r : 
Hut when inhuman lusts transform us, then 
As beasts we are to sutler, not like men 
To be lamented. Nor did (^iiaralois ever 
Perform an act so worthy the applause 
Of a full theatre of perfect men. 
As he hath done in this The glory got 
By overthrowing outward enemies, 
Since strength and fortune are main sliarers in It, 
We cannot, tiut by pieces, call our own : 
But, when we conijuer our intestine foes. 
Our ])assions bred within us, and of those 
The most rebellious tyrant, powerful Love, 
Our reason suffering us to like no longer 
Than the fair object, being good, deserves it, 
That's a tiue victory I which, were great men 
Ambitious to achieve, by vour example 
Setting no price upon the breach of faitli. 
But loss of life, 'twould fright ii<>ultery 
Out of (heir families, and make lust appear 
As loathsome to us in the first consent. 
As wlien 'tis waited on by punishment. 

Charal. You have confirm'd me. Who would 
lave a woman, 
That migiit enjoy in such a man a friend I 
You have made me know the justice of my cause, 
And mark'd me out tlie way how to defend it. 
Rom. Continue to that resolution constant. 
And you shall, in contempt of their worst malice, 
Come ofi' vmih honour — here they coma. 
Charal. 1 am ready. 

Enter Du CnoY, Charmi, Rochfort, Novall 
senior, Pontalieu, anrf Beaumont. 

Nov. sen. See, equal judges, with what confidence 
The cruel murderer stands, as if he would 
Outface the court .and jusiice ! 

Roch. But look on him. 
And you shall find, for still methinks I do. 
Though guilt hath died him black, something good 

in him. 
That mav perhaps work with a wiser man 
Than 1 have been, again to set him free. 
And give him all he has. 

Char. This is not well. 
I would you had lived so, ray lord, that I 
Might rather have continued your poor servant. 
Than sit liere as your judge. 

Du Cioif. I am sorry for you, 

Boch. Ill no act of my life I have deserved 
This ii.jury from the court, that any here 
Should thus uncivilly usurp on what 
Is proper to me only. 

• Had been sheath'd in a tiger or the-bear,] The allusion 
is to N>>vall anil Beaumelle; but i\fr. M. Mason, who had 
already furgotten that 1 lie former had fallen by the hand of 
Cliaralois, alitis tiyi-r to tigress. Such a passion for iiniova 
tion, with sii little discretiuu to direct it, is surely selduot 
found in the same person. 



9CENE II.] 



THc: FATAL DOWRY. 



33? 



Du Cray. What distaste 
Receives my lord ! 

Rocn. You say you are sorry for him ; 
A grief in whicli I must not have a partner. 
Tis I alone am sorry, that when 1 raised 
The building of my life, for seventy years 
Upon so sure a ground, that all the vices 
Practised to ruin man, thougli brought against me, 
Could never undermine, and no way left 
To send these grav hairs to the grave widi sotyow, 
Virtue, that was my patroness, betray 'd me. 
For, eniering, nay, possessing this young man, 
It lent him such a powerful majesty 
To grace whate'er he undertook, that freely 
I gave myself up, with my liberty. 
To be at liis disposing. Had hi.s person. 
Lovely 1 must confess, or far-famed valour, 
Or any Other seeming good, that yet 
Holds a near neighbourhood with ill, wrought on 

me 
I might have borne it better: but, when goodness 
And piety itself in her best figure 
Were bribed to my destruction, can you blame me, 
Though 1 forgtt to suffer like a man, 
Or rather act a woman? 

Beau. Good, my lord ! — 

Nov. sen. You hinder our proceeding. 

Cluir. And forget 
The parts of an accuser. 

Beau. Piay you, remember 
To use the temper which to me you promised. 

Roch. Angels themselves must break, Beaumont, 
that promise 
Beyond ihe strength and patience of angels. 
But 1 have done : — My good lord, pardon me, 
A weak old man, and, pray you, add to that, 
A miserable father; yet be careful 
That your compassion of my age, nor his. 
Move you to any thing that may misbecome* 
The place on which you sit. 

Char. Read the indictment. 

CJiaral. It shall be needless ; I myself, my lords, 
Will be my own accuser, and confess 
All they can cliarge me with, nor will I spare 
'J"o aggravate that guilt with circumstance 
They seek to load me with ; only I pray. 
That, as for them you will vouchsafe me hearing, 
I may not be denied it for myself, when I 
Shall urge by what unanswerable reasons 
I was comjjeU'd to what I did, which yet, 
Till you have taught me better, I repent not. 

Ruch. 'Jhe motion's honest. 

Cliar. And 'tis freely granted. 

Charat. Then I confess, my lords, that I stood 
bound. 
When, with my friends, even hope itself had left me, 
To this man's charity, for my liberty ; 
Nor did his bounty end there, but began : 
For, after my enlargement, cherishing 
The good he did, he made me master of 
His only dauohter, and his wliole estate. 
Great ties of tliankfulness, I must acknowledge : 
Could any one fee'd by you, press this further? — 
But yet consider, my most honour'd lords, 
If to receive a favour make a servant, 



• — that may misbecome.] The old 

copy reads dia-becnmc, an uiuisii.il wend, but regiiUrly formed. 
I thought tc woitli nnticinii, tliuu^li 1 h4ve not disturbed 
Coxeter'a fancied iinpruvenieut. 



And benefits are bonds to tie the taker 

To the imperious wiHof him that gives, 

I here's none but slaves will receive courtesies, 

Smce they must fetter us to our di-honours. 

Can it be call'd magnificence in a prince, 

To pour down riches with a liberal hand 

Upon a ])oor man's wants, if that must bind him 

To play ihe soothing parasite to his vices ? 

Or any man, because he saved my hand, 

Presume my head and heart are at his service 1 

Or, did I stand engaged to buy my freedom 

(When my captivity was honourable) 

By making myself here, and fame hereafter, 

Bondslaves to men's scorn, and calumnioae 

tongues? — : 
Had his fair daughter's mind been like her feature, 
Or, for some little blemish, I had sought 
For my content elsewhere, wasting on others 
INIy body and her dower ; my forehead then 
Deserved the brand of base in^^ratitude : 
But if obsequious usage, and fair warning 
To keep her worth my love, could not preserve her 
From being a whore, and yet no cunning one. 
So to offend, and yet the fault kept from me. 
What should I do ! l^et any free-born spirit 
Determine truly, if that thankfulness, 
Choice form, with the whole world given for a 

dowry. 
Could strengthen so an honest man with patience, 
As with a willing neck to undergo 
'Ihe insupportable joke of slave, or wittnl. 

Char. What proof have you she did play false, 
besides 
Your oath ? 

Chaial. Her own confession to her father • 
I ask him for a witness. 

Roch. 'Tis most true. 
I would not willingly blend my last words 
With an untruth. 

Charul. And then to clear myself. 
That his great wealth was not the mark I shot at. 
But that 1 held it, when fair Beaumelle 
Fell from her virtue, like the fatal gold 
Which Brennus took from Delphos*, whose pos« 

session 
Brought with it ruin to himself and army : 
Here's one in court, Ueaumont, by whom I sent 
All grants and writings back which made it mine, 
Before his daughter died by his own sentence. 
As freely as, unask'd, he gave it to me. 

Beau. They are here to be seen. 

Char. Open the casket. 
Peruse that deed of gift. 

Rom. Half of the danger 
Already is discharged ; the other part 
As bravely ; and you are not only free. 
But crown'd with praise for ever! 

Du Croy. 'Tis apparent. 

Char. Your state, my lord, again is yours. 

Roch. Not mine ; 
I am not of the world. If it can prosper 
(And yet, being justly got, I'll not examine 
Why it should be so fatal), do yoii bestow it 
On pious uses : I'll go seek a grave. 
And yet, for proof I die in peace, your pardon 

like ihe fatal gnli 



Which Brennus took from Delphos,] 'J his wds so d»> 
strnctive tu all wliu shared it, that it grew iulo a proverb. 
See Eras. Aday. 



540 



^HE FATAL DOWRY. 



[Act 



I ask ; and, as you q;rant it me, may heaven, * 
Your conscience, and tlie.se jiniges, liee you from 
What you are charged with ! So, farewell for 
ever! [Eiit. 

Nov. len. I'll be mine own guiile. Passion nor 
example 
Shall be my leaders. I have lost a son, 
A son, giave judo-es ; 1 require his blood 
From his accursed homicide. 

Char. What rejilv vou, 
In yoiu' defence, ibr this? 
Charal. I but attended 
Y'our lordships' ])leasure. — For the fact, as of 
The former, I confess it; but with what 
Base wroi;gs I was unwillingly drawu to it, 
To my few words there are some other proofs 
To wimess this lor truth. When I was married, 
For there 1 mu^t begin, the slain Nnvall 
Was to my wife, in way of our French courtship, 
A most devoted servant, but vet aimed at 
Nothing but means to quench his wanton heat, 
tJis heart being never warni'd by lawful fires. 
As mine was, lords : v.vA thouj;h, on these pre- 

6um])tions, 
Join'd to tlie h.ite between his house and mine, 
I might, with 0[)])()rtnnity and ease. 
Have found a way for my revenge, I did not ; 
But still lie had tlie freedom as before, 
When all was mine: and, told that lie abused it 
With some unseemly license, by my friend, 
JWy approved friend, Romont, I gave no credit 
To the reporter, but reproved him for it. 
As one uncourtly and malicious to him. 
What could I more, my lords? Yet, after this, 
He did continue in his hrst pursuit. 
Hotter than ever, and at length obtain'd it ; 
But, how it came to my most certain knowledge, 
For the dignity of the court, and my own honour, 
I dare not say. 

Noc. ien. If all may be believed 
A passionate pri-oner speaks, who is so foolish 
That durst be wicked, that will appear guilty? 
No, my grave lords ; in his iniiiuiiity 
But give example un"o jealous men 
To cut the throats tliev hate, and they will never 
Want matter or pretence for their bad ends. 
Char. You must find other proofs to strengthen 
these 
Bttt Tie:e presumptions. 

Du Croi). Or we shall hardly 
Allow your innocence. 

Charal. All your attempts 
Shall fall on me like brittle shafts on armour. 
That break themselves ; or waves against a rock. 
That leave no sign of their ridiculous fury 
But foam and sjilinters: my innocence, like these, 
Shall stand triumjihant, and your malice serve 
But for a trumpet to proclaim my conquest. 
Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate can, 
Howe'er condemn, affright an honest man. 

Rom. May it please the court, 1 may be heard? 
A'^oti. sen. Vou come not 
To rail again? but do— you shall not find 
Another Rochfort. 

Rom. In Novall I cannot. 
But 1 come furnished with what will stop 
The mouth ot his conspiracy 'gainst the life 
Of innocent Ciraralois. Do you know this character ? 
Nov. sen. Ves, 'tis my sou's. 
Rom. Mav it please your lordships, read it : 



And you shall find there with wh:it vehenuiicy 
He did solicit Beaumelle ; how he got 
A promise from her to enjoy his wishes ; 
How alter, he iihjurej her company. 
And yet — but tliat 'tis fit 1 spiin- the dead — 
Like a damn'tl villain, as soon as recorded. 
He brake that oath : — to make this manifest, 
Produce his bawds and her's. 

Enter Officers with Aymf.u, Fi.oiumix, n/iti 
Bkllai'ert. 

Char. Have they ta'en their oaths ? 
Rom. They have, and, rather than endure tlie rack. 
Confess the time, the meeting, nay, the act ; 
What would you more ? only tins aiatron made 
A free discovery to a good end ; 
And therefore I sue to the couit she may not 
Be placed in the black list of the delnniuents. 

Pont. I see by this, Novall's revenge needs me. 

And I shall do \Aiide, 

Char, 'lis evident. 

Nov. sen. I hat I 
Till now was never wretched : here's no place 
To curse him or my stars. Exit 

Char. Lord Charalois, "* 

The injuries you have sustain'd ajipear 
So worthy of the mercy of the court. 
That, notwithstanding you have gone beyond 
'J he letter of the law, they yet acquit you. 

Pont. But, in Novall, I do condemn him — thus. 

[^Stahs him. 

Charal. I am slain. 

Rom. Can I look on ? Oh, murderous wretch ! 
Thy challenge now I answer. So ! die with him. 

Stabj Ponialier. 

Char, A guard 1 disarm him. 

Rom. I yield up my sword 
Unforced. — Oh, Charalois! 

Charal. For shame, Romont, 
IMourn not for him that dies as he hath lived ; 
Still constant and unmoved ; what's fall'n upon me 
Is by heaven's will, because I made myself 
A judge in my own cause, without their warrant : 
But he that lets me know thus much in death, 
With all good men — forgive me ! [Dies, 

Pont. 1 receive 
The vengeance which my love, not built on virtue. 
Has made me worthy, worthy of*. [Die-. 

Char. We are taught 
By this sad precedent, how just soever 
Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs. 
We are yet to leave them to their will and power 
That, to that purpose, have authority. 
For you, Romont, although, in your excuse. 
You may plead what you did was in revenge 
Of the dishonour done unto the court. 
Yet, since fVom us you had not warrant for it. 
We banish you the state : for these, they shall. 
As they are found guilty or innocent. 
Or be set free, or suffer punishment. [Eieunff. 

* ffas made me worthy, worthy of.'] TlieoM co]iy repeats 
worthy, wliicli has a good ettect ; when we add tii this, that 
it also completes tlie verse, we shall wonder at its oiiiissioii 
by the former editors. 

+ Dr. Sainutl Johnson, in his life of Rowc, prononncea 
of The Fair Penitent, " that it is one of tlie mo^t pleasing 
Tra!;edies on the jta^e, where it still Kieps its turns ot iip- 
pearin-j;, and priibahly «ill long keep them, tor lli.it there i< 
sc.ircely nny udi"- of any poet at once .«o interesting by the 
fable, and so deliulitlid by the language. The story," he 
observes," is doineslie, and therefore easily received by viie 



THE FATAL DOWRV, 



541 



A. DiuGi-.. — See Act II., Sc. I. 

Fie! cease lit nonder, 
Though ion hem- Oihi)"its witli his icory lute, 

Move trees and rocks, 
Charm Imlls, hears, and men more savage; to be mute ; 

lVeal<,ioalish singer, here is one 

Would have transj'orm'd thuself to stone. 

A Song by Aymer. — Act II., Sc. 2. 
A Dialogue betueen a Man and a Woman. 
Man. Set, Phoebus, set ; a fairer sun doth rise 

From the bright radiance of my mistress' eyes 

Than ever tliou begat'st : i dare not look ; 

Each hair a golden line, each word a hook. 

The more I strive, the more /<till I am took. 
Worn. Fair servant, come ; the. day these eyes do leiid 

To warm thu blood, thou dost so vainly spend. 

Come straiisle breath. 
Man. What note so sweet as this, 

ThatcaUs the sfiirils to a further bliss? 
Worn. Yet this out-savoury wine, and this perfume. 
Man. Let's die ; I languish, I consume. 

Citizen's So:^ of tbe Courtier. — See Act IV., Sc. II. 

Catirtier, if tlioa needs wilt wive. 

From this lesson learn to thrive ; 

If thou match a lady, that passes thee in birth and 

state, 
Let her curious garments be 
Twice above thine own degree ; 
This will draw great eyes upon her, 
Get her servants, and thee honour. 

Courtier's Song of the Citizens. 

Poor citizen, if thou wilt be 

A happij husband, learn of me 

To set thy wife Just in thy shop ; 

A fair wife, a Kind wife, a sweet wife, sets a poor 

man up. 
What though thy shelves be ne'er so bare, 
A woman still is current ware ; 
Each man will cheapen, foe and friend ; 
But, uhiLt Ihou art att'other end, 
Whate erihou seest, or what dost hear. 
Fool, have no ei/e to, nor an ear ; 
And ajler supper, for her sake. 
When thou hast Jed, siwrt, though thou wake : 
What thongit the gallants call thee Mome ! 
Yet with thy lantern light her home; 
Then took into the town, and tell 
If no such tradesmen there do well. 



imagination, and a'^similatcd to common life; tlie diction is 
txqiiisi'vtly liainionions, and sol't or sprightly as occasion re- 
quires." Fiw people, 1 believe, will think this character of 
The fair Penitent too lavish on the score of commendation ; 
the high degree of public favour in which this Tragedy has 
long stooM, his ever attracted the best audiences to it, and 
engaged the talents of the best performers in its display. As 
there is no drama moie frequently exhibited, or more gene- 
rally read, I propose to give it a fair and impartial examina- 
tion, jointly with the more unknown and less popular 
Tragedy from wliiih it is derived. 

The Fair Prnilf/it is in fable and character so closely 
copied from The Fatal Dowry, that it is impossible not to 
take that Tragedy along with it ; and it is matter of some 
surprise to me that Rowe should ha\^; made no acknow- 
ledgment of his imitation, either in his dedication or pro- 
logue, or any where else that I am apprised of. 

This Tr.medy of 'the Fatal Dowry was the joint pro- 
duction of Massinger and Natlianiel Field; it takes a wider 
compass of fable than I he Fair Fenitcnt, by which means 
11 presents a very atfecting scene at the openiiij', which 

25 



<lis.ii/i IS joung tih.ir-iliiis, attended by his friend Komont, 
vviiiiiig Milii a peliliiin in his hand to be presented to the 
jiidi^es, wdeii they .»hall meet, praying the release of his 
de.i.i latlur » body, wliiih had been seized by his trttlitors, 
an I iletaiiii'il in their hands for debts he had incurred in the 
public servne, a* lieldiiiari-hal of the armies of Bursjundy. 
IMafsiiigi. r, to wlio-e sh ire this part of the Trag-dy devolved, 
lia> iiiao.igcd thi> pathetic introduction witii c.»ii>uiiimale 
ikill and great expression of nature; a noble joiitli in the 
last ftale of >voildly distress, reduced to the humiliating yet 
pious olliee of soliciting an unfeeling and iiiiiiieiMily judge 
to allow hiiii to pay the solemn rites ol burial to ti.e remains 
of ai> illu-truiiis faiher, who iiad fought his country's liattles 
with gl.iry, and had sacrificed life and fortune in the delence 
of ail ungrateful ^tale, impresses the spectator's mind with 
pity and ie.--peet, wliich are felt through every pas^age ol 
the i lay: one thing in particular strikes iiie at the opening 
of the scene, wliich is the long silence tli.it the poet has 
aitHi'ly imposed upon his principal chaiact. r ( Charalois) 
who stinds in mute sorrow with his petition in la> hand, 
whil-t Ins friend Komont, and his advocate Chaniii, urge 
him to ple^ent liiinself to the judges, ami s< lieu tli. in in 
person : the judges now make their eiiiraiK-e, they stop upon 
the stage ; ihey otter him the fairest opporiimily tor tender- 
ing his petition and soliciting his suit: Cliaralois leinains 
fixed and speechless ; Komont, who is all eagerness iu his 
cause, ples^es him again and again: 
" ISow, put on your spirits. — 

Now, sir, lose not this otter'd means: their looks 

Fix'<l on you with a pitying eaines! iiess. 

Invite you lo demand their fuiliitrance 

To jour good purpose." 
The judges point liiiii out to each other ; they l.inunt the 
misfortunes ot his noble house ; they observe, 

" It is youn;; (Jliar.ilois 

Son to the marshal, fiom whom he inheri'.s 

His lame and virtues only. 
" Horn. Ha ; liiey name you. 

" Du Croy. His father died in prison two days .»ince. 
" liuch. Yes, to the shame ol this uiigiateiul state; 

That such a master in the art of war, 

So noble and so highly meriting 

From this forgetful country, should, for want 

Uf means to satisfy his creditors 

Ti.e sums he took up for the general good. 

Meet with an end so infamous. 
/I'om. Date you evei 

Hope lot like opportunity'?" 
It is v.iin, the opportunity passes off, and Cliaralois opens 
not his mouth, nor even silently tenders hi* peliion. 

I have, upon a former occasion, hoih i.eoer,tlly and 
paiticiiiarly observed upon the ettects of draiiiauc -deuce : 
llie stage c.tnnot alford a more beautiful and ;oiicliiiig in- 
stance ili.in this liefore us: to say it is not ioinioi to the 
silence of Haiolii upon his fiist appearance, s\ouiil be s lyiiig 
loo little ill Its labour. 1 have no doubt but Aiassinger had 
this vrr) case in his thoughts, and 1 honour liiiri iio less for 
the iiiiitaling than 1 should have done for striking out a 
silence so naiiir.illy and so delicaitlv pnserveo. '.', hat 
could Char.iloi- have ut'ered to give liiai tli t intercut in 
the Leans of his spectators, wliieli iheir own comliisions 
<luriiig his attectirg silence have aliealy ioipies.-e.l .' No 
Sooner are ilie judges fone, than the ardent Itoinoiit again 
breaks foith : — 

" This obstinate ?p< en, 

You think, becomes your sorrow, and sorts well 

With jour black suits." 
This is Handel himself, his inky cloak, and cvsloMary suits 
of solemn black. The character of Cliaralois is thus fixed 
betbie he pe.iks ; the poet's art has given ihe prejndicr that 
is to bear him in our atiettions through all 'he succi eding 
events or the ialile ; and a striking contra-t is established 
between the undisceruing fiery zeal of Komont, and Cha- 
ralois' line seii-ibilily and high-born dignity of soul. 

A more nielhoilical and regular dramatist would have 
stopped here.s.itisfied that the impression already made was 
fiill> sutlKleiit f.r all the purposes of his plot ; but Massiiiger, 
*accoi<ling to the busy spirit of the stage for whii h he wrote, 
IS not aiaiiiied by a throng of incidents, and proi eeds to 
open the -ourt a. id discuss the pleadings on ihe stage: the 
advocate Charmi, in a set harangue, moves the judges for 
dispensing with the rigour of the law in favour oi creditors, 
and tor rescuing the marshal's corpse out of their clutches; 
he is browbeaten and silenced by the presiding judge old 
Novall: the plea is iheii taken up by the iinpetuou- Komont, 
and urged with so much personal insi leiice, that he is ar- 
re-.ted on tie spot, put in cliarge ol the orticers<Jl the court, 
ami taken to prison. This is a vriv striking mode of intro- 
ducing llir set oration of Charalois ; a sou lecouiiiiog the 
military achievements of a newly deceised father, and n>- 



S4S 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



ptoring mercy from his creditor.« and the lavr towanis his 

inburied leiiiaiiis, now tldiins the altcniioii of ihc court, 
who had het'n liithcrto iinniovod by Uie feeble formality of a 
hired pleader, and the tnrbnlciit passion of an enraged 
soldier. Cliaralois' argument lakes a mid<lle course between 
both; tlie |>iiiiis feeljngs of a son, tempered by the modest 
manners of a gentleman: the creditors however are im- 
placable, the judge is hostile, and the law must take ils 
COtirse: 

" Cred- It is the city doctrine; 

We stand bound to maintain it. 
" Cliaral. lie constant in it ; 

And since yon are as merciless in your natures, 
As ba?e and mercenary in yonr means 
By which you net your wealth, I will not urge 
The court to take away one scrnple from 
The right of their laws, or wish] one good thought 
In yon to mend yonr disposition with. 
I know tlieie is no music to your ears 
So pleasing as the groans of men in prison. 
An I that tlie tears of widows, and the cries 
Of fainish'd orphans, are the feasts that take you. 
Ttial to be in your danger, with more care 
Should be avoided than infectious air, 
The kwlhed embraces ot diseased women, 
X flatterer's poison, or the loss of honour. — 
Yet ratiier than my father's reverend dust 
Shall want a place in tliat fair monument, 
In which our noble ancestors lie entomb'd, 
Uefoie the court I ofier up myself 
A prisoner for it. Load me with those irons 
Tli.it have worn out his life; in my best strength 
I'll run to the encounter otcold, liungcr, 
An<l choose my dwelling where no sun dares enter, 
So he may be released." 
There was yet another incident, which the poet's passion 
for business and spectacle induced liiiii to avail himself of, 
viz the funeral of the marshal ; this he displays on the 
•tage, with a train of captains and soldiers following the 
hoily of their general: Cliaralois and Romont, under cus- 
tody of their gaolers, appear as chief mourners, and a party 
of creditors art concerned in the grotipe. 

Kitvr this solemnity is dispatched, the poet proceeds to 
dcvelope the amiable generosity of old Rochfort, who, 
being touched with the gallant spirit of Romont, and still 
more peneliated with the filial piety of young Charalois, de- 
livers them both from imprisonment and distress, by dis- 
charging the debts of the marshal, and dismissing the credi- 
tors : this also passes before ilie eyes of the spectators. Be- 
fore Charalois has given full expression to his gratitude for 
Otis extraordinary benefaction, Rochfort follows it with a 
further act of bounty, which he intvroduccs in the style of a 
request — 

'' Call in my daughter. Still I have a suit to yoo. 

Would you requite me. 

This is my only child." 
Beauinelle, Rochfoil's daughter, is presented to Charalois; 
the scene is huriicd on with a precipitation almost without 
example: Charalois asks the lady, 
" Fair Beauinelle, can yon love me? 
" Beaumel Yes, my lord. 

" Charal. You need not question me if I can you; 
You are the fairest virgin in Dijon, 
And Kochfort is your father." 
The match is Agreed upon as soon as proposed, and Roch- 
fort hastens away to prepare the celebration. 

In this cluster of incidents I must not fail to remark, that 
the poet introduces young Novall upon the scene, in the 
very moment wlien the short dialogue above quoted was 
pM.sing: this Novall had before been exhibited as a suitor 
to Beauinelle, and his vain Irivolons character had been 
displayed in a very ridiculous and contemptible lii;lit; he is 
now again introduced to he a witness <if his own disappoint- 
ment, and his only observation upon it is — " What's this 
change?" — Upon the exit of the lather, however, he ad- 
dresses himself to the lady, and her reply gives the alarm- 
ing hint, that makes discover) of the latal turn which th^ 
plot is now about to take; for when Novall, turning asid^ 
to Beanmelle, by one word — " Mistress!" — conveys the re- 
proach of inconstancy, she replies, 

" Oh, servant ! —Virtue strengthen me ! 

Thy presence blows round my itfection's vane : — 
You will undo me, if you speak again." [EriV. 

Young Novall is left on tlie scene with certain followers 
and dependants, which hang upon his fortune, one of which 
(Poiitaiier liy name), a man under deep ol)ligations to him, 
yet of an honest nature, advifes him to an honourable re 
nimciatioii of all further hopes or attempts to avail himself 
of the atlections of Reaumelh — 
" Thoagh yen have taved tny life, 



Rescued me often from my wai:ts, I must not 
Wink at your follies, that will luiii you. 
Yon Know my blunt way, and my love to truth- 
Forsake the pursuit of this lady's honour. 
Now you do see her made another man's." 
This honourable advice is rejected w itii contempt : Novall, 
in whose mean bosom there does not seem a trace of virtue, 
avows a determined perseverance; and the poet having in 
this hasty manner completed these inauspicious nuptials, 
closes the second act of his Tragedy. 

We have now expended two entire acts of The Fated 
Dowiy, in advancing to that period in the fable, at which 
the Traiiedy of 'I'hf Fair J'enitent opens. If the author of 
this Tragedy thought it necessary to contract Massinger't 
plot, and found one npon it of a more regular construction, 
1 know not how he could <lo this any otherwise, than by 
taking up the story at the point wheie we have now left it, 
and throwing the aniecedi iit matter into narration ; and 
though these two prefatory acts are full of very atfecling in- 
cidents, yet the pathos which properly appertains to the 
plot, and conduces to the catastrophe of the Tragedy, does 
not in strictness lake place before the event of the marriage. 
No critic will say that the pleadings before the Judges, the 
interfeience of the creditors, the distres.ses of Ciiaralois, or 
the funeral of the marshal, are necessary parts of the drama ; 
at the same time no reader will deny (and neilh-r could 
Rowe himself overlook) the effect of these incidents: he 
could not fail to foresee tliat he was to sacrifice very muci. 
of the inieresl of his fable, when he was to throw that iipojn 
narration, which his original had gi.ven in spectacle : and 
the loss was more enhanced by falling upon the lieio of tht 
drama; for who that compares Cliaralois, a* the eiul of the 
second act of Massinger, with Rowe's Aliamont at the open- 
ing scene of The Fair Fenifent, can doubt which character 
has most interest with the spectators? We have seen the 
former in all the most amiable othces which filial piety could 
perforin ; enduring insults from Ids inveterate oppressors, 
and voluntarily surrendering himself to a pii-on ti> ransome 
the dead body of his fither from unrelenting creditors. Al- 
tamoot presents himself liefore us in his wedding suit, in the 
splendour of fortune, and at the summit of happiness; he 
greets us with a burst of exultatimi — 
" Let this auspicious day be ever sacred, 
No mourning, no niisiortunes happen on it; 
Let it be niaik'd for triumphs and rejoicings! 
Let happy lovers ever make it holy. 
Choose it to bless their hopes and crown' their wishes; 
This happy (lav, that gives me my Cali*ta!" 
The rest of the scene is em|l<)jed by him and Horatio alter- 
nately in recounting the benefits conferred upon theni by the 
geneioiis Sciolto ; and the very same incident of the sii/.ure 
of his father's corpse by llie creditors, and his redemption of 
it, is recited by Horatio : — 

" When his hard creditors. 

Urged and assisted by Loihario's father 
(Foe to thy house and rival of thy greatness). 
By sentence of the cinel law forbade 
His venerable corpse to rest in earth. 
Thou gavest thyself a ransome for his bones; 
With piety uncommon didst give up 
Thy hopeful youth to slaves, who ne'er knew mercy." 
Is is not liowevei within the reach of this, i r any other de- 
scription, to pli<e Altamont in that interesting aiid amiable 
light, as eirciiinstances have already placed Charalois; the 
happy and exulting biidegroom may be an ol)iect of oar 
congratulation, but the virtuous and sutfering Charalois en- 
gages our pity, love, and admiration. If Rowe would have 
his audience credit Altamont for that filial piety, which 
marks the character he copied from, it was a small over- 
sight to put the following expression into his mouth — 
" Oh, great Sciolto ! Oh, my more than fither!" 
A closer attention to character would havercmindid him 
that it was possible for Altamont to express his gratitude to 
Sciolto without setting him above a father, to whose me- 
mory he had paid such devotion. 

From this contrai tion of his plot, by the defjlcati<m of so 
niaiiy pallietie incidents, it became impossible for llie aiilhoi 
of The Fair Fenileni to make his Altamont the hen of ids 
Tragedy, and the leading part is taken from him by Horatio, 
and even by Lothario, throughout the drama, ilitie are 
reveral reasons, which concur to sink Altamont upon the 
comparison with Charalois, the chief of which arises from the 
captivating colours in which Rowe has paiiiteil iiis libertine : 
on the coutr.i.y, MaSsinger gives a contemptible picture of 
his young Novall ; he makes him not only vicious, but ridi- 
culous; in foppery and impertinence he is the counterpart 
of Sh.ikspeare's Osrick ; vain-glorious, purse-proud, anil over- 
btaiiiig ainiingsi his dependants; a spiritless poltroon in hia 
interview wiih Romon'. " Lothario," as Jnhnson observes, 
" with gaiety which ci-.nnot be hated, und bravery which 



THE FATAL DOWRY 



3i3 



cannot be (li'?|)i>e(I, retains too inncli of llie spectator's kind- 
ness." His lii^li spun, l>iilll.iiil i|iialilu^, awl line piison 
are so (lesnibeil, as to pnl us in danijei' of l.il.-e iniprt.-siuob 
in liis lavoiir, and lo set tlie p.i»>ions in op|iosilioii to the 
liior.il ol tile (liiee: I siisped tlial tlie gall.uiiii ol l^oiliaiio 
ni.ikes iiioie advoealcs l..|- l^aiisia lli.in slie oni;lii to have. 
Th. re •> .moilier i onsideixtion. wliicli tipiiale- again^t Aita- 
inont, aii<! it is an iiidelicac> in Ins tliaiaeter, uliicli tlie 
poet shonJil lia\e pioviled agai st : lie nianies Calisla «iili 
tlie lull peiMiafioii i.f her bting averse to llie inatcli ; in his 

6isl iiieeliiis; witii Sciilio he sa^s 

•■ Oil! loiild 1 hope there was one thouyhl of AJlaiiiont, 
One ki..d reiiieiiilirance iu Calista's breast— 

1 found lier eold 

As a dead h.ver's statue on his tomb; 
A :i^ing storm of passi,.n sliotik her breast, 
Hi r eyes a pileoiis shower of teais let fall. 
And llien she sighed as if her lieait were breaking. 
With all the teiKleiest eloqiieiiee of lose 
1 be!;g'd to be a sharer in her giief; 
But :>lie, with luoks aviise, and e.xes that froze nie. 
Sadly replied, her sorrows vveie her own. 
Nor in a lather's Dower lo dispose of." 
I am aware tli .t Sciolio attempts to parry these facts, by an 
intiepretation too gio.-s and unbecoming for a father's cha- 
racter, and only (it for the lips of a Lothario ; but yet it is 
not in nature lo suppose ihat Altainoiit could llli^tlke such 
•yniptom-, and it fixes a meanness upon liiin, wliicii pn vails 
against his ch.iracter throughoul the i lay. Nothing of llii? 
soit could be discovered by Massiiiger's biidegroom, for the 
ceremony was agreed upon and performed at ihe very first 
interview of the parties; Heaumelle i;ave a full and unre- 
served asfiil, and though htr character suiters on the score 
of hypocrisy on that account, yet CharaUns is saved by it: 
less liy|iociisy appears in Calisla, but hers is Ihe deeper 
Unilt, because «'ie vvi: :drea<ly dishonoured by Lotliaiio, and 
Bianmelle's coquetry wiih Novall hail noi yet reached the 
length of ciiii.inality. Add to this, that Altaniont appears 
in the contemptible light of a suitor, vvlioni Calista had ap- 
prised of her aversion., and to whom she had done a deliLe- 
rate act of dishonour, though his person and character must 
have been loiii; kiiov^n to her. 'Ihe case Js far otherwise 
between Chaialois and Beaiimelle, who never met before, 
and every <are is taken by Ihe poet lo save his hero from 
sncli a d. liberate injury, as iniglil convey contempt; whh 
this view the marriage is precipitated; nothing is allowed 
to pass, that miiiht open the character o.'^^ Charalois lo Beau- 
nielle : she is hurried into an assignalion wiih Novall imme- 
diately upon her iii.iriiage; every artifice of seduction is 
employed by her cnnhdaiile Bellapeit, and Ayiner, the pa- 
rasite of Novall, to make the meeting criminal ; she tails 
Ihe victim of passion, and when deUciion oriiigs her to a 
reuse of her guilt, she makes this penitent and pathetic 

appeal to ChaUiois ■ 

" Oh my fate! 

That never would consent Ihat I should see 
How worthy you were both of love and duty, 
Before 1 lusi you ; and my misery made 
The glass in which 1 now behold your virtue I 
Willi justice iheiefore you may cut me ott. 
And fiom your memory wash Ihe remembrance 
That e'er I was ; like to some vicious purpose, 
Which, in your better judgment, you repent of. 

And study lo forget 

Yet J oil shall find, 

Thongh 1 was bold enough to be a stiumpet, 
I dare not yet live one. Let those famed matrons, 
That are c.iiionized worthy of our sex. 
Transcend me in their sanctity of life ; 
1 yet will equal theiii in ilying nobly, 
AmbitioitfS of no honour after life. 
But that, when I am dead, you will forgive me." 
Compare this with the conduct of Calista, and then decide 
which frail fair one has the better title to the appell.ilion of a 
penitent, and which drama conveys the better moral by its 
catastrophe. 

'I'heie Is indeed a grossness in Ihe older poet, which his 
more modern imitator has refined ; but he has only sweet- 
ened the poison, not removed its venom ; nay, by how much 
more palateable he has niade it, so much more pernicious it 
is btcoine in his tempting, sparkling cup, than iu the coarse 
deterring dose of Mas^inger. 

Rowe has no doubt gieally outstepped his origi al in the 
striking character of Lothario, who haves Novall as far be- 
hind hiin as Charalois does Allamont : it is admitted then 
Ihat Calisla has as good a plea as any wanton could wish, to 
urgi for her criminality with Lothario, and the poet lias not 
spared the ear of modesty in his exaggerated desciiplion of 
the giiiliy scene; every luxuiious image, that his iiiltamed 
imai^ination could crowd into the glowing rhapsody, is there 



to be found, and Ihe whole is recited in numbers so Howing 
anil hainionioiis, ihal they not only arrest the passions but 
tlie iiieiiioiy al»o, and perhaps have been, and still can be, 
as generally repealed as any passage in Eiiglih po< try. 
iMaa^illger, with les> ele^ai.ce, but nol with less retfard to 
deceiH I, ,r sutlers llie giiihy act to pass within ihe eour-ie of 
Ins drama; Ihe greater uliiiemeni ol inanneis in Ko«c's 
day did not alhm of tins, and he anticipated the incilent; 
but when he revived the reeolUciion of it by such a s.udieil 
(ksciiptioii, lie pi, inly .showed ihal it was not from n.oral 
principle ihat he oiiiilucf it ; anil if he Jias presented hii 
heroine to the spe lali.rs vvlili inure immediaie dcluaCJi' dur- 
ing the compass of the play, Iu has al the same lime giveo 
In r greater ilepiaviiy ol miml ; lier inanneis may be more 
refined, but her principle is fi.nler ilian Beaiinielle'n. Ca- 
lista, who yielded lo Uie gallaiil, gay Loihiiio, 'hut with 
the I'lu-can grape," iiiiglu pcihaps have disdained a lover 
who addressed her in Ihe holi.lay language which Novall 
u,es lo Beaiinielle : 

" Best day to naliire s curiosity. 

Star of Dijon, the liislie of all France! 
i'erpeliial .-priiig dwe.l on thy rosy . Iieeks, 

Who e breaih is perlnme to our continent! 

See! Flora triiiim d in her varieties. 

No autumn nor no age ever i.pproach 
'ihis lieavehly piece, which nature having wrought, 
Siie lost her needle, and did ilieii <lespair 
Kver to work so lively and mi lair!" 
The letter of Calinta (which brings about the discovery by 
the poor expedient of Loth oio s ilr..ppiiig it anil Horalin'i 
fii.diiig itj has iiol even the nnrii of bring characterislically 
wicked, and is both in its matter anil mode beloiv I'ragedy. 
It is, J.otliario i cruelt;/ Itas delerniiitrd Iwr to yield a per- 
fect ubedienre to Iter J'at/ter, and yive her hand to Alta- 
inoiit, iu spite of her wentmeim for tlie false l.olliario. — If 
Ihe laily had given her perfect obedience iis true denuiiiiiia- 
tion, she had called it a ino.-t disli.nourable compli ince ; 
and, if we may lake Lotharios word (who seems liiJl cor- 
rect enough in describing facts and paiticulais;, she had not 
much cause to complain of his being false ; fur he lelb Kus- 
sauo : 

" I liked ner, woidil have married her, 
But that it pleased her falher lo refuse me. 
To make this honourable tool her husb md." 
It appears by this, that Loihaiio hail not been falst to her 
ill Ihe article of marriage, lluaigh he might have been cruel 
to her on Ihe score of pas-ion, uhi h inile.d is confessLd on 
his part with as much cold iiulijjerence, as the most bare- 
fictd avowal could e\piess — But to return to the leller: 
hlie proceeds to lell liiiii -Ihat nhe could alniost wiih ght 
had Ihat heart, and that hoiwiir to bestow ivilh it, which 
he has roOhid her if. — But le-l this hall wish should startle 
him, she adds— yiw* oh! I fear, could I retrieve them, J 
should ayain be undone bp the too faithless, yel too lovely 
■Lothario. — i'liis must lie owned as lull a reason as she could 
give, why she should only almost with for her lost honour, 
whtu she would make such an use id it, if she had it again 
al her disposal. And yet Ihe very next paragraph throws 
every thing into conlrailiction, for she tells him -this is the 
last ueaktwss of lier yen.aud to-morrow shall be thetast in 
which she will indulye her eyes. If she coidd keep lo that 
resoliiiion, 1 iiiusl think the recovery . f her innocence 
would have been worth a whole wish, and many a wish; 
unless we are to suppose the was so devoted to guilt, Ihat 
she could lake delight in refieciing upon it : tliij is a itate 
of depravity, whicli human natuie hardly ever attains, and 
seems peculiar to Cali-la. She now grows very humble, and 
concludes in a style well suited to her hiiiiiiliiy — Ltuilla 
shall conduct you, if you are kind enough to let ine fee 
you ; it shall be the last trouble you shiUl meet ti ilk from 

'I he lost Calist*. 
It was very ill done of Horaiio's curiosity to read this 
letter, and i must ever legn t that he \\.i-. so unhandsomely 
exposed a lady's private correspondence to the world. 

'lliough the part which Horatio takes in the business of 
the drama is exactly that wliich falls tollie share of Koinunt 
in The Fatal Dowry, yet tin ir characters are of a very 
ditftrent cast ; for, as liowe had bestowed the fiie and 
irapetuosiiy of Roinont upon his Lothario, it was a very 
juilicious opposition to contiasl It with the cool deliberaw 
courage of llie sententious Horatio, the fiiend and bioUief- 
in-law of Allamont. 

When Horaiio has read Calista's letter, which Lolhario 
had dropped (an accident which more frequently happeai 
to gentlemen in comedies, than in tragedies;, he fads into a 
very longmedilation, and doses it with putting this quesiiov 
to himself: - 

" What if I give this paper to lier father? 
It fi'llows that his justice dooms her dead. 
Aid breaks his heart with sorrow ; bard return 



C 



S44 



THK FATAL DOVVUY. 



For mH the ijoori his hand lias he.ip'd on us! 

Hi. ill. lei me take a moiiuin s lli.-iij^lit — " 

At tliis nil. mint lie is iiiienuiiiid in Ins rtrtectioiis by the 
presence <l" Laviiiii, ivli>'Sc tiinlei soluiindt nils up the 
reiiiainios; par! iil t!ie (li.iliij;iie, and cuiiciul. s tlie ail wiih- 
out rtiiy (ieri-ive le oliition on tin- put nf Horaliij.; .ui ilici 
dent well conlriveil, ami i .t.odiice.l uilli iiincli (l.ainalic 
•kill aiidetlicl: tlicii^li pri?se I by his wile u. (ii»el..-e tlie 
cause ol his uiieasiiie.os, he di.es iioi imp ii 1 to hei' the f.ital 
discovery lie has made ; Ihis ai-o is will in cliaiailer. Upon 
his next eiilraiice lie has wiflidiiwn himsell from the 
company, ai.d l)eing ahnn , resumes his nieniiation : 
" U'hil, if, while all are liete intent mi levelliiii,', 
I piivalely went lorili and miiii;Iii L iihaii.i ( 
Tlll^ klter may be finyed ; peil^ps the wantonness 
Ol his vain youth to siain a lady's faiie ; 
Peili.tps his malice lodl^tlllb iiiy fr en<l. 
Oh! no, my hearl forebodes il mii^l be Irue. 
Mc houthi e'en now 1 m .rk d the si .rs if guilt 
That shook i er soul, thouuh ilamii d di>>iiniila ion 
Sciein'd her dark tlnni-ihts and sit to punlu- view 
A specious fare of imiuceme and biMiiiy." 
This Soliloquy is succeeded b> llie much-ailiniied and 
striking scene be^tweeii him and Lothario; iij;il ciilicisjn 
might wish III abridge some oi llie s< iiienlioiis declamalory 
spteclies i.f Horatio, and shoiteii the dialo^in- toqnicl-en tlie 
erteci ; but the moral sentinienl and liai imniious veisihcatioii 
are much too chaimiiig to be treated as inlrinleis, and the 
author has also shuck upon a natiiral expedient lur pro- 
longiny tlie dialogue, without any violence to probability, by 
the inlcrpo-iiioii of Rossano, w ho acts ,is a medi itiM' between 
the hosule paiiits. This iiitirposilioii i- fuilher iieces>ary 
to prevent a decisive ieiicou..ter, for which the fable is not 
ripe; neiiher vvoulil it be proper for Hoi alio to anticipite 
tlie revenge, which is ieserveilfi.rAllami.nl: llie altercation 
theieloie closes with ackillenge fioiii L.ithario: 
" \\ est of the town a mile, .imoiii:st the rocks. 
Two hours ere noon t..-inoiTow 1 expect thee ; 
I'hy single hand to mine." 
The place of ineeiing is not well a.'certained, and the time is 
too long ill ferred for strict piobabilily ; there are, however, 
certain things in all dr.iin.is, which must not be too rigidly 
insi-led upon, and provid. d no extraordinary vi.lence is 
lone to reason and cminoii sense, the candid critic ought to 
let Iheni p iss : this I take lo be a c.ise in point ; and though 
Horalio s cool coniage and ready pn sencc of mind, are not 
jiist llie qu.ililies to iccomile us to such an. ove. sight, yet I 
see no reason to be severe upon the incident, which is fol- 
lowed by his immeili.ite recollection: 

" Two hoiiis eie noon to-morrow ! Hall ! Eie that 
He .-ees Calisla. — Oh! unlhinl ing fool! 
\\ liat if I urged her wiili ihe ciiinc and danger? 
If any -park Irom heaven remain iinqiiench'd 
W'ilhiii her biea-t, my breatli perhaps ina\ wake it. 
CotiM 1 but prosper tin re, I would not doubt 
My comb.it with ihal loud vain glorious bo.isler." 
Whether ihi> be a measure abogelher in charader with a 
man of llo alios gmd sense and discreiion, I inust own is 
inatler of doubt wuli ine. 1 think he a()pears fully sati»lied 
of lur actual criiniiiality ; and in ihalcaseit would be more 
niMiral to, hjintolay his inea-uresfoi intercepting Lotli.irio, 
and preventing the assignation, than to iiy his ihetoiic in 
Ihe p.. sent crisis iipini the agitated mind of Calista. A« it 
has jiisil^ occurred to him, that he has been overreached by 
Lolliaiio in tlie poslponement of the duel, live ineasiire 1 
siigg. St would naturally tend lo hasten thai rencnunler. Now, 
liiouuh ihc Iju-iness ol the drama may require an explanaiioii 
between Horatio and Calista, w.hereupon to ground an 
occasion for his inteiesling quarrel wiih Allamont: yet I 
do not see any necissily to make that a prcmedilated e\- 
plaiLUion, nor to saciifue character, by a incisure that is 
inconsistent with the betier judgment of Horatio. The 
pott, however, has decreed it otherwise, and a ileliberale 
inierview wi;li Calista and Horatio aCLordingly takes place. 
This, altl.ough introduced with a solemn invtjcation on his 
part, is very clumsily conducted : 
" Teach me, some I'ower! that happy art of speech 
To dress my purpose up in gracious words. 
Such as may sollly steal iiiion her soul. 
And never waken the tempestuous passions." 
Who can expect, afier this preparation, to hear Horatio thus 
break his secret to dlista '. 

" Loihario and Calista! — Thus Ihey join 
T-,vo names, which heaven decreed should never meet 
Hence have the lalkers of this populous city 
A shameful tale to lell for public sport, 
\.» an unhappy beamy, a false fair one. 
Who plighted to a roble youth her f.iilh. 
When she h id given her honour to a wretch." 
Tbis 1 hold to be totally out of nature; first, b.;cause it is a 



palpable depaitme from his resolution lo use " gvaciou* 

Words; ' i.e\l, bec.iUse it has a certain tendency to produce 
rage .ilid noi repeni.ince ; and thirdly, because II is founded 
in ex iggii.iiion and falseliooil ; f..r how is he w.iri.inted to 
say tli.il th< sloi) i- tin- pntilic lalk and sport of the ciiy ; If 
it weie so, wli.iica.i his iinerieience avail? why seek this 
inter, i. w .' 

" Why come to tell her how she might be happy 1 
To sooil.e Ihi- secret anguish of her soul I 
To loiniori tli.ii f.ur mourner, til it loih.rn one, 
A' d leach her step* lo know the p.illis ol peace?" 
No judge of n.itiire will think he lakes the me.ins to Wm) her 
into " the paihs ol peace, ' by linrr\ing her to the ver> brink 
ol desper in.n 1 need- not enlarge upon ihis ob.ervation, 
and hail Iherifoie onl> remaik, iliai the scene breaks up, 
as miglil b. exp. cied, Willi the following proof oi her peni- 
tence, and his success in per-nasioii : 
" lleiicefoith thou otiiciolis fool, 

Med. lie no more, nor dare, even on thy life. 
To breaihe an acci in thai may touch my virlue: 
1 am myself the guardian of my hoiionr. 
Anil will not bear so insolent a monilor." 
Let us now enquire how Uomontdhe Horatio of Matsinger) 
condiicis Ihis inciilcnt, a chaiactcr from whom li ss discre- 
tion is to he expected than from his phihisophical successor. 
Koniont liioisi if discovers lie. lOinelle and Novall engaged 
in llie most wai.ton lamitiarilics, and with a u.irinih snit- 
alile to his /.e,il, breaks lip the amorous conf. rence by 
driving Nov.dl olt the scene wiih inetfable contempt : he 
then applies himself lo the lady, and with a very natural 
and inaiily spiiit says, 

" ■ I respect you. 

Not for yoiiisell, but in remembrance of 
W ho is jour father, and >vhosc wiie you now are." 
She rej lies to him with contempt and ridicule; he resumes 
Ihesame cliaiacterisiic sirain he sets out with, and proceeds: 

"' My inleiils, 

Ma lam, deserve not this; nor do I stay 

To be Ihe wheisioiie of joiir wit: preserve it 

To spend on such as know how to admire 

Such colom 'd sliitf. in me, there now speak* to yon 

As true a fiieiid ii.d serv.int to your honour. 

And one that will with as much hazard guard il. 

As ever man did goodness : ■ bul then, l.idy,' 

You imisi endeavour, not alone to bk, 
But Is APPEAR, worthy >uch love and service." 
We have jiisi now heaid Horatio reproach dlista wUh 
the reports tliat were circulated a){ainst her reputation ; let lis 
Compare it with what Roinont <says upon the same subject : 

— — But yet 1 e careful: 

Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not 
To wound the fame of princes, if it tind 
Bill any blemish in their lives to work on. 
Hut I II be pl.iiiier with you : ha<l the people 
Been learned to speak but what even now I saw, 
I'heir malice out of that would raise an engine 
'lo ovcrilirow your honour. In my sight. 
Will yonder painted fool I frighted from yon 
Yon Used familiarity bijond 
A modest entertainment : you embraced him 
With loo ninch ardour for a stranger, and 
Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely. 
But le.irii yon to forget liiin, as I will 
Your bounties lo him ; jmi will tind it safer 
Flatlierlo be unconrtjy Ihan immodest." 
What av.iils il lo attempt diawing a comparison between this 
conduct and that of Horalio, where no comparison is to be 
made.' I leave it to the reader, and decline a task at once 
so unnccessarv and ungrateliil. 

When Uoiiiont finds no impression is to be made upon 
Beanmelle, he meets her father, and immediately lalls into 
the same refiectioii that Horatio had struck upon: 

" Her fathei ?— ha ! 

How if I bleak this to him ? sure it cannot 
Meet with an ill construction : his wisiion.. 
Made poweiful by the authority of a father. 
Will warrant and give privilege to his counsels. 
It shall be so. — 
If this step needs excuse, the reader will consider that it in 
astep of pieveinion. ,The experiment, however, fails, and 
he is rebutte.; with some asperity by Rochforl ; this draws 
on a scene betwet.-; him and Charalois, which, as it is too 
long to transcribe, so it ;; throughout too excellent to extract 
any part from it. 1 can oiiiy express my surprise, that the 
author of '/'he fair Peniteuf, with this scene heiore him, 
could conduct his interview between AUamont and Horatio 
upon a plan so widely diflerent, and so much inferior: I 
must suppose he thought it a strong incident to make Alla- 
mont give a blow to his friend, else he might have seen an 
interview carried on with intinitely mere spiiit, both of Ian- 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



345 



gnage and character, betAt-en Cliaralois ami Roiiiont, in 
circiiiiistiii' IS i'xactly .-iiiiil.ir, wlu-re no siicli violence >vas 
coniinllieil, or even mec itated. Was it because I'ierre had 
given a blow to J.iflier, that Alianionl was to repeat the like 
indignity to Hoialio, t'.ir a woui.in of whose aversion he had 
proofs not to be mistaken t Cliaralois is a chiiacler atlia>t 
as hii^h and iiritalile as Alt.tnioni, and Roniont is out of all 
conip.iiison more roui^li ami plain-spoken lliiii Horatio: 
Charalois nii'^hl be deceived into an opinion of Beaiinielle's 
alfectioii l..r liim ; Alianiont could not deceive' hinisilf into 
such a nulion, and the 1 idy had te-lilied lier dislike of hini 
in the stroni-e-t terms, accoinpinied with symptoms which 
he hiniselr had (lescrihed as in liciting some rooted and con- 
cealed atili>tioa: could any solution be more natural than 
vhat ll< ratio ti^es ! Novall was a rival so coutemplible, 
that Chaialois could not, wilh any denree of probability, 
consi lei hiin as an objtci of hisjealousy ; it would hive been 
a degrailaiii.n of his ch uactei , had lit ) iolde i to siii h a siis- 
|)ici>.ii : Lothario, on the conirary, »as of ,iU nun lisinj; the 
most to be apiaehended by a husband, let Ids eonrtdence or 
vanity be ever so great. Rowe, in his aHemiil to sinprise, 
has s.tciiticed nature and llie truth of character lor stai;e- 
elfect ; Massinger, by preserviiis; both naiuie and cliaiacler, 
has conducted bis friends tlirouuji an ani;ry alleivation with 
infinitely more spirit, more pathos, and more dramatic elt'ect, 
and jet <li<mi-sed ihein with the follotvini; animated and 
affectiiii; speech irom Cliaralois to his friend: 

" 'i'h lU art not my friend, 

Orbeini; so, tiion art mad : 1 must not buy 
'J'hy fiieudship at this rate. Had 1 just cause, 
'I hull kiiinv'st I durst pursue such injury 
Thiough liie, air, water, • arlh, nay, were they all 
Shiitiird agiin toch.os; but lliere's none. 
I'liy skill, llomout, consists ill camps, not courts. 
Kaiewi 11, uncivil man ! let's meet n.) inure; 
Hi re onr long web of friendship I untwist. 
.Sli.iU 1 go whine, walk pale, and lock my wife. 
For iioihiiii;, from her birth s fice liberty, 
Tli.il open <1 mine lo me ! jes; if 1 do, 
'i he na.iie of cuckold then dog me with scorn ! 
I am a French nan, no Itali.in born." [Ejil, 

It is plain thai Alt.imont at U-.iA was an r xception to this 
reiiia.k upon It.ilian hii'<b.iiids. 1 sh.iU pursue iliis compa- 
tii>on no liirllier, nor otier aiiN other lein.irk upon the inci- 
dent oi the blow yiveii by Alt iiinMit, except «ith regard to 
Hordio's comliu-t iipui receiving it; he draws his sword, 
and imiiicdi.iiely suspends resentment upon the following 
motive : 
" ^ el hold! Bj heav'n, his faihei's in hi"! face ! 

Spite of my wrongs, my heart runs o cr wiib tenderness. 
And 1 could rathir die' myself than hurl him." 
We must suppose it was the oiiiil.l .itiitiide tint Altamont 
had put liiiii.-.elf inio, wlilcli hioiinht the resciiibl.ince of his 
father so sti'oii:;ly to tne i.bservati-m ..f Honlio, ollie.wise it 
was a very nun itiiral moment to recollect it in, "I'n n he 
iiad just received the diepest iii>u!t <iiie mm can give 'o 
anotlitr: it is however worth it reinaik tli.it this faiher <i» 
Altamont sluiulil act <ili both si ks, and yet inisc.iriy in his 
medi ,tjon ; font is but a few passages before ihat Altamont 
•ays to 11 oi alio: 
" Thou win my father's friend ; he lov'd thee well ; 
A V lie able mark of hi^i 

Hallos round lUee, anil protects thee from my vengeance. 
I caiinot, d lie not, lilt my sword au.iinst tine." 
What this mark was is left lo conjecliiie; but it is plain it 
was as ^easonal'le for Horatio s ie»ciie at ihis ino.i.ent, as it 
was for Altamont a f.w moments after, who In I certainly 
overlook! (J it when he struck ilie very friend against whom 
he could nol, ilaied m.t, I ft /lis sword. 

Wlnii Livinia's enlrai'ice has parted Altamont and Ho- 
ratio, liir liiinbind coiiipl.iiiis lo her of the Ingr.ititude with 
which he h.is been Healed .mil s.ivs: 

" He, uho w.is all to mi', chil:l,'broihcr. friend.. 

With bubarons bloody ni.ilue sought my life." 
Tliesf a'C very e.straordiu.iry terms for a man like Ho- 
ratio to ii>e, anil seem lo convey a charge very iiiiHt for him 
to make, am! of a very dinerent iiatuiV- fioiii the hasty In- 
sult lir h.id received ; In f in it appe.irs as if the bUiw had 
totally iinersid his character, fir the rrsidiition he takes In 
conse(|iii.iice of this personal atlront, is jiist such an one as 
would be only taken by the man who dared not lo re- 
lent it : 

" Knmi Genoa, from falsehood and inconstancy. 
To soiiif II. ore honest distant clime we'll go; 
Ni'r will 1 lie behuldeii to iiiy country 
I'or aii'^li but lliee, tin partner of mv lliulit" 
That Horatio s heroism did not consi.-t in the leidy foigive- 
ness of injuries, is eviiient from tlie ..b-rin.ite sulKnness with 
which he rejecis the penilenl .ipol.i^ie,- oi Ali.immil in the 
turtlier progress of the play ; 1 am at a hiss therefore to 



known what colour the poet meant to give his character, 
by dispo-ing him to quit his country with this insult uD- 
aloiied fur, and the additional sligina upon lilni of run- 
ning avva) from his appointment with Lothario for the iicxl 
morning " ainong-t the rocks." Had he meant to biing him 
ort upon the lepugnance he felt of resenting any injury 
against the son of a father, whose image was -so visible, "in 
his lace," lhat his " heart ran o'er with fondness in spite of 
his wrongs, and he couUl ralher die than hurt him ;" surely 
lhat iin ige would have inierceded no less powerfully for 
him, when, penetrated willr remorse, he intercedes for pity 
and forgiveness, and even faints at his feet with agony at his 
unrelenting obduracy: it would be unfair to suppose he was 
more like his faiher when he had dealt him an insulting 
blow, than when he was atoning for an injury by live mos* 
ample satisfaction and siibmissioii. 

This is llie light in whicii ihe conduct of Horatio' strikes 
me; if 1 am wrong, I owe an atonement to the manes of 
an elegant poet, whicli upon conviclion of my error', 1 will 
study to pay in the fullest manner 1 am able. 

It now remains only to say a few words upon the catas- 
tioplie, in which the author varies from his original, by 
making Calista destroy herself with a dauger, put into het 
hand lor that purpose by her faiher : If 1 am to moralize 
upon this proceeding of ,Siio|to, I know full well llie inci- 
dent cannot bfttr up against it ; a R<>m ill father, would 
stand the discussion better ilian a (Ihristian one ; and 1 also 
know that the most natural expedient is unluckily .i most 
undramalic one; >et the poi t did not tot.illy overlook it, 
for he makes Sciolto's fust ihonghl turn upon a convent, if 
I rightly undei stand the following passage: 
" Heme Inau my sight! thy father cannot bear thee : 
Fly with thy infamy to soilie dark cell. 
Where, on the conlines of eternal night, 
Mournini;, inisforlunes, cares, and anguish dwell; 
Where ugly shame hides her opprobri uis head. 
And deaili and lull detested rule maiiilain; 
There howl out the remainder of thy life, 
I And wish iliy mine may be no more remeinber'd." 

'i Whilst 1 am traiHcribiiig these lines a doubt strike" me that 
1 have misinterpreted them, and yet Calista's answer seems 
to point to Ihe meaning I had suggested ; perhaps however 
they are mere ravings in I'nf niimliers witlioui any determi- 
nate idi a : whatever they may be, it is clear they do not go 
to the length of death: he tells Altamont, as soon as she is 
departed: 

" 1 wo' not kill her; 

. 'Vet by the ruin she has brought upon ns, 
*•■ The coiiimoii infamy lhat brands us both, 

She slia' nol 'scape." 
He seems in iliis moment to have formed the resolution, 
which he afterwards puts upon eseiulion; he prompts her 
to sellniMnhr, and arms In r for the act: this m.iy mvc the 
fpect.itors a si^ht loo >lioiking to behold, but does it convey 
less horror to the liiart, Ih in if he had put her loiieaili wilh 
his own ban I ! a fitlnr ki ling his did 1 for Inconliiitnce 
Willi the man whom he li.nl not perniitteil lo niiiiylei, 
when he solicited lii^ consent, is an act loo monstidu." 
to retiecl upon: is that father less a iiion>tir, who, delibe. 
rately and after full refleclion, puts a dagger inIo her hanil 
and bi Is her commit sell-minder? I should hiiiiibly con 
ceive Ihe lalU r act a <h-i;ree in guilt beyond the former; 
esp> cially when I hear lhat father coolly demanding of his 
victim, if she has reflected upon what may happen after 
dealh: 

" Hast thou consider'd what may happen .ifter it I 
How thy account may st.iiid, and wliat lo answer?" 
A paieni surely would turn that ipie>tioii upon his own heart, 
betore lie preci|iilated his unprei'aied child tu so awliil and 
uncertain an iciount: rai;e and in-tani revenge may tind 
some ph a ; sudden pi-si.ai may tr.msport even a lather to 
lift his hand agiiiisi his own olfspring ; but this act uf 
Sciidto has no sheiier but in lieatlien authority: 
" 'lis justly ihoiight, and worthy of that spiiit. 
That dwell in ancient Latian breasts, when Rome 
W IS misliess of the woil I." 
Did ever poetry beguile a man into such an allusion ? and 
to what dues tb.it piece of infonnaijon tend "thai Rome was 
ini-tiess of the wo. I I ! ' If ibis i> hiiinan nature, it would 
almost tempt one to n ply in Sciolto's own words: 

" 1 could curse nature." 
Hut it is no more like nature, than tlie fol!i>wing sentiments 
of Cdi.sta are like the sentiments of a peiiiieul, ur a 
Ciiristian : 

" That I must die it is my only comfort. 
Deiili is Ihe privilege of human nature. 
And life without it were not worth our taking — " 
And again, 

" ^ ei lieiv'n, who knows our weak imperfect nainrct, 
i<ow blind with passiuns, and huw prone to evil. 



846 



THE FATAL DOWRY. 



Makes not too strict ttiquiry for oHViices, 

But Litton (1 by ptiiiliiicf .mil prayer. 

Chtap iicoinptn-f ! Iicro 'twould not bv rccciv'd ; 

Notliuijr bill bloo:! can make tliu cxpittioii." 
Such is the caiastrophu ot' Rowe's Fair Penitent, such is 
the nprcscntation liu givts us of lininan n.iture, and such 
the miir.d of his traijedy. 

I rhall conclude \m11i an extract or two from the catastro- 
phe of The Fatal Dowry: and tirst for the penitence of 
Ueauniclle, 1 shall select only the following speech ad- 
dressed to her husband : 

" I dare not move you 

To hear me speak. 1 kn..w my fault is far 

Beyond qiialitication or exiuse; 

That 'tis not lit for me to liopt, or you 

To think of mercy ; only I pie.-niiie 

To entreat you would bo ple.iseil to look upon 

Jly sorrow for it, and bi-lieve tin se teais 

Are the true chililren of my Riicf, and not 

A woman's cunning." 

I need not point out the contrast between this and the 
quotations from Cali-la. It wil, require a loni-er extract to 
br.nj; the conduct of Rochfnrt into compaiison with that of 
Sciolto: the reader will observe that Novalls dead body is 
now on the scene : Charalois, Beaumclle, afld Kochfiat her 
father, are present. The cliaisje of adultery is iiiyed by 
Cliaralois, and appeal is made to the justicj of Uochfoit in 
the ca.-e; 

" Jioch. What answer makes the prisoner? 
" Jieaumel. I confess 
The fact I ain charged with, and yield myself 
Mo>t miserably guilty. 

" Roch. Heaven take mercy 
Upon your soul, then ! it must leave your body.— 
—Mince ihat the politic law provides that scrvani*. 
To whose care we commit our sjoods, hall die 
If they abuse our trust, what can you look for, 
To whose charge this most hopeful lord gave up 
All he received from his brave ancestors. 
Or he could leave to his posleiiiy, 
His honour, wicked woma ! in wlmsc safety 
All [lis life's joys and coiiiforis weie h)ck(l up, 

M liich thy lust, a thief, hath now stolen from him; 

Ana therefore 

" Vharal. Siay, ju.st judi;e ;— may not what's lost 
•By her one fault flbr I am cliai liable. 
And chiri;e her not with niauj ; be forgotten !• 

Ill her. fair life hereafter ( 

" lioch. Never, sir. 
The wrong that s done to the cha'te married bed 
Kepeiitaiit teais can never expia'e ; 
And be as«uied, to pardon such a sin 
Is an offence as great as to commit it." 
In consequence of this the husband strikes her dcti'l before 
her falhe. 's eyes : the act indeed is horrid; even Tragedy 
»liiliiks irom it; and nature with a father's voice iii>laiilly 
cms out—" Is she dead then ?— anil you have kill d her f" 
— Cliaral..is avo«s it, and pleads his sentence for the d^ed ; 
tlie revoliing agoni/.ed parent breaks forth into one of the 
must pithelic, natural, and expressive lament.,tions, that the 
bnglish drama can produce : 

"■; But I pronounced it 

As a judge only, and a friend to jiistict ; 
And, itealous in defence of your wrong'd iionoui, 
Broke all the lies of nature, and cast otf 
The love and soft atlection of a f ,ther. 
I> in your canse, put on a scarlet robe 
Of rel-died crucUj , but, in return, 
You have advanced for me no Hag of mercy. 
I look 'd on you as a urmig'd husband ; but 
You closed your eyts against me as a father. 
O lieaiimelle! my daughter! 
•« C!^"'""'- """is is madness. 

" Koch. Keep from me! — Could not one good thought 
rise 11 J), 
To tell you that she was my age's comfort, 
aegot by a weak man, and born a woman, 
And could not, thereioif, but partake of frailty? 
Or wheietore di<l not th.u.kfnlness step forth 
To urge mj ii.fr.y mertts, which I niay 
Ob'ect unto y.-n, since yen prove ungrateful, 
Flint-l-earied Chaialois!— 

" Cham:. Natiiie does fievail 
AbovH your virtue." 
What conclusions can I draw frtm these comparative ex- 
• i.iples, which every reader won'd not aiitiii|) iie ? Is there 
% man, who has any feeling for re.i\ nature, dramatic charac- 



ter, moral sentiment, tragic pathos, or nervous diction, \vh« 
can liesilate, even tor a moment, wliere to bestow tiie palm T 
CiiMBKKi.ANU. Observer, J\oa. LXXVII. LXXVllI. 
LXXIX. 

'i'his tine Tragedy has obtained more attention than usual 
from the critics ; yet less has been said of its direct, than ill 
relitive meiils; aiui ^The l-'atrd Dowry has been cliieHy 
sfiidi d for the sake of a comparison with The Fair I eni- 
titit. 1 do not know if some iujiiry lias not been done to it 
by this moile of treatment. Under the imliience of a donbl*' 
enquiry, some circumstances have l)een p.issed by willi little 
or no noiice; and others, perhaps, ha>e beeii uuduly iiiai;ni 
tied. The qiie-lion has been, ii t what was wiiitm h\ Mas- 
singer, bill what was imitated hy Rone. While biith thr 
dianias have been thus considerid together, the scope of one 
of tliein has n. t been exactly liehned : and what was gained 
by a coiiipl.c,iti..n of de-igii', was lost to simplicity of jiidg- 
iiieiit. Indeed, no g.eat beneht of eillier kind can be de- 
rived from the brief and desultory views of Mr. M. Mason 
and Mr. Davies : but the reader will receive boih ph asurc 
anil insiiuction fiom the compaii-on of Mr. Cumbeilaml. 

Not lo have a stnuig and iutimaie feeling of The Fatal 
Dowry, is to be hardened againsi the nlo^t atlccting lepie- 
sentation (It virtue goaded by injuries lo an unlaw tnl re- 
venge. The siory is strongly and "ciicuinstanlially iinloliled, 
and tixes our atienti( n to its progiess by the impre-.-ion, 
whi. h it generally wears, of common life. The language too, 
is, with Some excepions, whicli will be presently noticed, 
the language i>r nature and of business. The characters are 
dra*Mi with a prolusion of force ami xariity. Charalois it 
placed twice I'tfoie the seat of iu.-tice : and Massinger has 
li 111 the address I;, preserve an cOraordinary inteiest for him, 
whether he appeais as a suppliant or a criminal. He unites 
many rare and apparently oppo?ile (pialities. Hia sevi rity 
and reserve are hapidly recoi.ciled with the teiideriiess at 
his lilial piety, his intrepidity with his geiith iipss of temper, 
his iiiilexible hrmness wilh his melting compa>siim. He is 
marked Hitli the gracefulness as well a* the lorce of virtue: 
nor can the rash act of which he is guilty compel the readei 
lo ahindon him, ihuiigh it >hocks our feel.iigs. His provo- 
cations secure our pity ; his dying acknowledgmenis tend U 
restore our esieein; anil, in his own words, there is 

" no eye, but is ready with a tear 

To witness 'tis shed for him " 

Romoiit is well contrasled with him; lie is marked with all 
the vehemem-e of hcmesly ; iirilalioii is the ciiaiacleri>lic 
attendant of his fiilelity ; he lo>es his own temper in the iiohle 
zealot pieserving the innocence of others: .ind he draws 
his sword upon his best Iriend, that he may compel him to 
give more attention to his security. Ponialier again is a 
variety of Romoit, ihougli of an interior casl. He carries 
his Iriendsliip to crime, and mniileis Charalois to show \iU 
gratitude to Novall. There is a .-ipcret link whi.h binds 
these characters together. They wish to he virliions ; but, 
hy too much inilulgence of passion coiirerning it. lliev fall 
into imprudence or guilt. On the other hand, tlie hxed qua- 
lity of llochfort is the admiration of virtue. On this i:, 
founded the con<lenina'ion of Beaiimelle, as well as hi- geoe- 
ro.'-iy to Charalois. Indeed at her fall he melts into sudden 
tenderness towards her : and nothing can be more finely 
natural ihaii his grief and his reproaches of the man whom he 
loves. But after this burst of feeling, he returns to his 
settled principle ; and the rash but much injured Chjialoi' 
is still the object of his regard. 

Old Novall might be designed only as an tneiny to the 
cause of Charalois, and as a contrast to Rochfort Bui the re- 
probation of him is so frequenily indiilgeil, and «iili such 
vehemence and accumulation of circumstances, as lo raise a 
suspicion that a portrait was intended. His hard :iiid in- 
sulting disposition, his savage abu>e, and his leadiness to 
" cross every deserving soldier and schol.ir," seem to allude 
to Sir Edwaid Coke, and to the base and unfeeling treat- 
ment of Sir Walter Raleigh. But il is impossible to notice 
all the observable parts of this atlmirable Tr.igedy. I will 
proceed to the moral, afier the discussion of a point or two 
with Mr. M. Mason. In a very siimmaiy manner he has 
pronotinceil thatthe second, third, and part of the foiiilh act, 
were not writlen by i\;a>sitiger. 

'J'here is an apparent change of writing in the second act ; 
and Charalois himself, though some of his ihoiiglits and ex- 
pressions are excellent, spoi'ls his grief wilh too iiiuh fond- 
ness for antilhesis, andinetapliors coldly and formally drawn 
out. He becomes a quibbler too as he proceids, and doel 
not ex|iress, with his usual frankness, either hi-, gratiiiide oj 
his love. The business is also iiniliily hurried on (iliongh 
Massinger himself isstrongl) marked wilh this preci|iit.ition;; 
and tlie miiMc which lately played at the liiiieral of ilie mar- 
shal, is loo quicklv cdled 'upi.ti'to celebrate ihe m.iiri..<;e of 
Cliaralo's. But in the third tct Massinger seems to me to return. 



THE KA.TAU DOWRY. 



3*7 



The proof of this shall n<'t rest upon tlu; general style ol it, 
for that woiiUt not so etlectii.iUy dettrmini; lUi: question, but 
upon the similarity of IhoUj I If aii'l expressions scattered 
throughout his other plays. In the very first scene, Bella- 
pert uses a signilicant iiiiage which Anti>ninus lias employed 
in The i'iryiii Martyr. Uomoiit afterwards observes, tliat 
it is as easy to " prop a falling lower," as to " stay a wo- 
man" who has once given herself to vicioiisiicss : and this 
thought, Willi the very expresoion of it, has been used by 
Mathias in the Hieture. Charalois infers that the lion is not 
to be insulted because he does not happen to be angiy: and 
Theodosius has lately dwelt with some enlargement on this 
very instance. Romoiit hopes that his discovery of Beau- 
melle's iiilidelity will not " meet -with an ill construction," 
and uses perhaps the most common phrase of Massinger. He 
retnarks too tliat women have " no cunning to gull the 
world;" — a method of aHirmation frequent with Massinger. 
Shall I acid mine proof? llochfort says to Beaumelle, " 1 
have that confidence in your goodness, 1" — a reduplication 
which cannot he iii;s-e;l by any reader of these plays. Vet 
the language of Rochfoit himself is adduced by iMr. At. Ma- 
son, to prove that thii act was not written by Massinger. 
llochfort utters scarcely more than twenty lines in the whole 
act; and from that small portion the above is one instance 
to the contrary of the assertion. It wonia De supertliions to 
tay more, tiiuugh similar incidents might also be produced. 



1 shall only draw the proper conclusion : if this Play was 
wiiiten a: the errly lise k.» < tsei^. by Mr. M.ilone, Mas- 
singer must either have male ti a storehouse from which to 
draw incidents and images for his future pl.iys, » supposi- 
tion not very probable, or he must have consented lo a lopt 
for ever the thoughts of Field in preference to his own: a 
supposition still less probable. Again,— if it was written in 
the order in which it is now printed, FiM would hardly 
have been allowed lo plunder him of his most fainiiiar 
thoughts by way of assisting him. In either case the third 
act must be given to Mafsinger. Field is welcome to the 
first scene of the fourth act, if that is the part chiijiied for 
him by Mr. M. Mason. 

I pass, with pleasure, from this uninteresting enqniry lo a 
great moral, which, alter all ihe discussion bestowed upon 
this Play, is as yet fresh and untouched. 

Charalois slew an oliending wife, and the partner of her 
crime, with his own hand, and wasliimself slain. Vengeance 
belongs to heaven ; and by the divine will, ihe adiiiinistra- 
tion of it for moral purposes is vested in the laws. To 
avenge our own cause is to despise the seat of justice, and 
the Older of providence; and to involve oiiiseUts in gnill 
and the punishment of it. Virlne must employ only vir- 
tuous means in the coercion of vice itself. Her iiijiiiies wiU 
therefore wait upon the laws ; for in the very f rins of jus- 
tict* there is virtue. Da. iakijiMIfc 



A 

NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



A New Way to Pay Old Dfbts.] This " CoMF.nY" does not appear in Sir Henry Herbert's book| 
it must, however, have been produced <>n thi* st!»o:e before 1633*, in which year it was printed for Henry 
Seyle. I'he author of the Compnuioit to the Plui/hoii^e terms it " one of the best of tlie oh! comedies," and, 
in his opinion, " the very best of Miissiii^-er's writing " It is, indeed, a most admirable piece ; but while 
The Citq Mit'inm, and two or three others of ti)is writer's comedies remain, it will not, 1 ihink, be universally 
placed at the head of the list. 

This play is preceded by two short commendatory poems,' by Sir Thomas Jay, and Sir Henry Moody; 
the former of which must have been peculiarly i);r.itifyin>if to Massinger, as Sir Thomas was no fliitterer 

The New Waij to Paq Old De^ls was extremt-ly well received on its first appearance, and, as the quarto 
informs us, " often acted at the Ph(pnix in Dnirie Lane." It has beau revived at different period* vrith 
considerable success, and still holds a distinguished place on the stag^c. 



THE RICDT HONOVRAEIS 

PiOBERT EARL OF CARIS'AEVOIS", 

MASl'EIl FALCONER OF ENGLAND. 

Mv Good I-okd, 
Pardon, I beseech yon, my boldness, in presuminnj to shelter this Comedy under the win£;3 of your lord- 
ship's favour and [)roitecti()n. I am not ignorant (liavinj^ never yet deserved you in mv service) that it 
cannot but meet with a severe construction if, ii^^e clemency of your noble dis])osition, von I'nshion not a 
better defence for me, than 1 can fancy lor mvsel" All 1 can allege is, that divers Italian princes, and 
lords of eminent rank in England, have not disdained to receive and read poems of this nature ; nor am 1 
wholly lost in my hopes, but that your honour (who have ever expressed yourself a favourer and friend to 
the ]\Iuses) may vouchsafe, in your gracious accej)tance of this trifle, to give me encour.igement to present 
you with some laboured work, and of a hiulier strain, hereafter. 1 was born a devoti-d servant to the 
thrice noble family of your incomparable ladyf, and am most ambitious, but with a becoming disiance, to 
be known to your lor. (ship, which, if you jjlease to admit, 1 shall embrace it as a bounty, that while 1 livfl 
shall oblige ine to acknowledge you for my noble patron, and profess myself to be, 

Your honour's true servant, 

PHILIP MASSmCER. 



DRAMATIS PERSQN^. 

Lord LovET l. On m.n , steward 

Sir GiLKs OvEUREAcii, a cruel extortioner. 
Frank Wki.luorv, a prodigul. 
roM Ai.LWORrii, a young gentleman, pnge to Lord 

Lovell. 
Greedy, « hungrtj justice of pence. 
Mahrali,, a term-driver; a creature of Sir Giles 

Overreach. 
WiLi.DO, a panon. 
Tap well, an ale-house keeper. 



,. , \to L.adu Allwortb. 

ri'RNACE, cook ( ^ 



\\ AJCHALi,, porter 
Creditors, Servants, &;c. 

L'ldif Ai.LwoRTH,a rich ividom. 
Maroaret, Overreach's daughter, 
FROin. Tapwell's wife. 
Chambermaid, 
Wtd'ingwoman. 

SCENE, the Conntrxj near Nottingham. 



There are SLver;iI all.isions to a s'ate of war i.i it ; and peace had heeii made with France nnd Spain in 102:». 
f Anna Sophia, d.ui.^iler ol 'l.ilip Karl of I'tinl.roke and Monlaoniery, and wife of Hubert Uor.ner Eail of O 
Wt»o was bUm at Newbury, tighlnig for his kiiig, -ijlh Sejiteinbei, Iti-lJ. Malo.ns. 



Scene I.] 



A NKW WAY TO PAY OLD DKinS. 



349 



ACT I 



SCENE. I.— Before TapweWs House. 

Enter Willborn in taVered a])parel, TAPWELLund 
Frioiii. 

Well. Nol)oiise? nor no tobacco ? 

Ta}K Not a suck, sir ; 
Nor the reMijiincler of a single can 
Left bv a drunken poiter, all ni^lit pall'fl too. 

Froth. Not tliH dropping of tbe tap for your morn- 
ing's drauglit, sii : 
"f is veiity, 1 assure you. 

WM. Verity, vou bracbe* ! 
Tbe devil turn'd ])recisian ! Rogue, wbat am I ? 

Tap. 'J'rotli, durst 1 trust you willj a looking- 
glass, 
To 1ft you see your trim sbape, you would quit me 
And lake the name yourself. 

Well. How, dog! 

7'(.;i. Even s", sir. 
And 1 must tfll vou, if you bufadvance 
Your riyinoutli doakf.you shall he soon instructed 
There dwells, and within call, if it please your wor- 
ship, 
A potent monarch call'd a constable, 
'I'hat doe;, command a citadel call'd the stocks ; 
Whose guards are certain files of rustyj billmen, 
Such as uiih great dexterity will haul 
Your tatteretl, lousy 

Well. Hascal! Slave! 

J'V(i(/(. I'^^o rage, sir. 

Tu/f. Ai Ills own [leril : do not put yourself 
In too iniiidi heal, there b^ing no water near 
'I'o (lutiich your ihirst ; and, mre, for other liquor, 
As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I lake it, 
Vou must no more rt men.ber ; not in a dream, sir. 

Well. Why thou unthankful villain, dar'st thou 
tiilk thus! 
Ls nnt thy house, and all tliou bast, my gift? 

Tup. 1 lind It not in chalk ; and Timothy Tapwell 
Does kee]) no other register. 

Well. Am not 1 he 
Whose riots fed and clothed thee! wert thou not 
Horn on my lather's land, and proud to be 
A drudge in his house .' 

Tup. \\ h;it J was, ^i^, it skills not; 



• Jlel. Verily, j/ou biaclie ! 

7V;f del it tiirnd pitci.-iaii !] Brache is a liiinling term for 
a feiii.ilu iidiii.d. A prtcisian is a pmitaii ; a vtiy ijtiieral 
obje< I lifdi-lil'.e in lliote liiiRS. 

t And i iiiust tvlt you, if y till but advance 

Your 1 \) indiiili dual.,] CoxuiiT, igiioiaiit <>( Ilie iiuaiiini; 
of llii.^ rniuu^iioii, bolilly ih.imnii il \i.i pUf-worn cloak ! and 
»o it .-luhd? Ill lis and Air. M. Mafiiii'.> pricl'Us ciliiioiis; 
thoiigli uiy i'.ipuill slioiiid be so i' lilali-d li> the advancing 
of a yilcwnin cloak, iw'Mer ni \\\<: gnu If nun Ins ihoiiylit 
tit to t\|)l,iii. When Willborn exclaims, "How, dog!" 
he ^li^e5 ld> cudijcl lo lie.t Tapwell, wlio lliieateiis liiiii, in 
Ills till 11, Willi a 1 onstable.&c, if lie pie,«Hiiief to strike lim ; 
tliis is Uie pinpoit of ilie passage. Thai a ntuff was an- 
ciently called a /■'/i/mnulh ctoali may be proved by many 
inslaiice.-; but the two fullowiiig will be siilticient : 

" Whose ctoali, at PlyiiiLuth spun, was ciabln-e wood." 
Davlnant, Fol p. 229. 

"Do yon hear, frailly ? si all I wall» in a l-'liimouthctoak, 
that it to tay, like a logne, in my lio>e and di.iiblet, and a 
crab-trer cudyet in my li.ii.d 1" 'I he Honeat H hori: 

Z H liose yuardi are en ain Jiti'ii fi/ rusts billmen,] Cox- 
eier and Mr. M. M.i.-on have — luity biUine'u : the old read- 
tss is turely more liumorouk. 



What yon are, is apparent: now, for a farewell, 
Since you talk of fatlier, in my ho])e it will torment 

yon, 
I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, 
I\ly quondam ii,as er, was a man of worship. 
Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of pt^nce aiidquorum. 
And stood fair I.i he custos rolnldrnm ; 
Bore the whole sivav of the shire, kept a great house. 
Relieved tlie poor, and so forth; but he dying, 
And the twilve hundred a year coiiiiiiu- to vou, 
Late master F' ran. is, but now loriorii Wellborn 
]Vell. Slave, slop! or I shall lose myself. 
Forth. \'erv ha'dlv ; 
You cannot oui* of your way. 

Tup. liut to mv story: 
Yon were thm a lord of acres, the prime gallant. 
And I your under butler ; note the ihaiige now: 
\ ou liad a nitirv lime oft; hawks and Hounds, 
With choice ofiuiining hor.^es : ii.ist;e.-ises 
Of all sorts and all size.s, yet so hot. 
As their emhraces made your lordsbijw melt; 
Which yo^ir uncle. Sir Gilis Overreach, observing 
( Resolving not to loie a drop of them ), 
On foolish mo-t';ages, slatu'es, and bonds. 
For a while .sujiiilied your looseness, and then left 
you. 
Well. Some curate liatli penn'd this invective, 
monsjrel. 
And you have studied it. 

Tup. I have not done vet : 
Your land gone, and voiir credit not worth a tokenf, 
You grew tiie common burrower ; no man scaped 
\our piijjer-pellets, from ihe gentleman 
'I o*iIie beggars on hi-hways, that sold you switches 
In your galkiniiy. 

IVell. 1 shall switch your brains out. 
Tup. Where J jioor 'l"im Tajiwell, with a little 
stock, 
S(mie forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage ; 
Humbled iinself to marriage with my Froth here. 

Gave entertainment 

^Vell. Yes, to whores and cantersj. 
Clubbers by night. ^ 

Tap. 'J'riie, but they brought in profit. 
And bad a gift to pay for what they called for; 
And stuck not like your mastership. 'J he poof 

income 
I glean'd from them hath made me in my parish 



* Vou cannot nnt rfynur uiny.] The modern editor.i mi» 
undersiaiidiii'^ lliis si iple pliiasc, Ir^ve been pleased to 
adapt it to Ihcir own com i ptioiis ; Ihcy le.id. 
You cuiinot bo out of yonr ivay ! 

+ y'our land yoiic, and your credit not worth a 'oken,] 
" Diiriiii; ilif rciijii <f ymen tlix. Iietli, and from thence 
foivv.ird to that of Charles the Second, veij litile brass or 
i-opper money wascoined by authoriiy. For ihe t oiivenience 
of the public, llieri fore, tradeMiieii weie i ennitted to coin 
small money, or tokens, as lliey were called, v\ liicli were 
used lor change." Old Flay.s, V. 1. HI. p 2(i7. These 
little pieces ale mentiuned by most of our old wrileis ; their 
v.dne is not ascertained, but seems lo have been about a 
fartliins;. 

i \V iiere poor Tim Tapve.H, &c ] Coxeter and Mr. M. 
Musiin read, When poor t im '/apwelt, &c. but llie quarto 
is riKl't. " //crp .-taiids for ivliereas, as it frequently does ia 
our ancient writers. 

j canter.t,] i. e. Rogues, sturdy beg- 

gars, &c. 



S50 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Act I. 



Thought worthy to be sc!ivpri<i;er, and in time 
May rise to be overseer of tlie poor 
Wliidi if I do, on vour jieti ion. Wellborn, 
I may idlow von tliirieen-jietice a quarter, 
And vdu sliiill tli.ink my worship. 

Well. Thus, you dog'-bolt. 
And tlius [Beats and kicks him. 

Tap. Cry out for liel|) ! 

Well. Stir, and ilioii diest : 
Your potent prince, the ronstiible, shall not saveyou. 
Hear me. ungrateful hell-honnd ! did not I 
Make ])ur.ses for you ? (hen you lick'ii my boots. 
And tiiought your holiday cloak too coarse to clean 

them. 
Twas 1 that, when I Iieard thee swear if ever 
Thou couhist arrive at forty ponn<!-s, thou wouldst 
Live like an emperor; 'twas 1 ihat Efave it 
In re:idy gold. Ueny this, wreich ! 

Tap. 1 niu t, sir ; 
For, from the tavern to the taphouse, all. 
On forffiuire of tiieir licenses, stand bound 
NeVr to remember who their best guests were, 
If thev grow ])oor like you. 

Well. 'i'Utiv are well rewarded 
That beggar themselves to make such cuckolds 

rich. 
Thou viper, thankless viper! impudent bawd ! — 
But since vou are foriiCtful, I will help 
Vour memory, and tread thee into mortar; 
Not leave one bone unbroken. [^Beats him again. 

Tap. Oh ! 

froth. Ask mercy. 

Enter ALi^wornii. 

Will. 'Twill not be granted. 

All. Hold, for mv sake liold. 
Deny me, Prank ! thev are not worth vonranper. 

Well. For once thou liast redeem'd them from 
this sceptre* ; 
But let them vanish, creopini;- on their knees, 
And, if ihev s;ruinble, 1 revuke my pardnti. 

Frnl'i This Comes of your praiiug, husband ; you 
presumed 
On yiur ambling wit, and mnsi use vour glib 

fonuue, 
Though vdu are beaten lame foi't. 

Tup. Patience. Fioih; 
There's law to cure our bruises. 

I'T/i-v fio off ail their hands and htifes. 

Well. Sent to vour moilitrt ! 

All. !\lv ladv, Krank, mv patroness, mv all! 
She's such a mourner tor my lather's death, 
And, in her love to him, so favours me, 
That I cannot pay too inncli (d)servaiice to her: 
There are few >ucli s'e]i.lanies. 

Well. "lis a nol)!e «i IdW, 
And keeps her repiitation pure, and clear 
From the least taint of infamy ; her life. 
With the sphMidourof her aciioi-.s, leaves no tongue 
To e .vy or deiraction. Prithee tell me, 
Has .-^he no suitors } 

• W II For nnri' Ihnu hiist rcdi'nn'd thfrn firnn this 
•ceptr •■ I Tlic 1.1(1 rii|)j Ins a ni.trsihi il f.|il.mii'i<>ii liere ; it 
•ays, " his fudijel," ' t'- <li>^ Plyiiiuulh cliiak inciiiioned in a 
I'ormei p.iie. 

iWel. Snil tot/niirmolher?. If C.ixcter ;uk1 Mr. M. Ma- 
ion liail b I |Mli. nee li. Ii.ivu rtMfl ,i litiL- finti er, liicy woiiltl 
have Mill llial All ••rili \va» ':.5i.,ilclii<l n jij, inesint t-r- 
rand by L<r;l l.,ovill , an I iiii'.;lit tlicn luve siittt loil the 
text tu9 tauil as i\ as>iiiitf Uil ii liny inaci ur.iltly read : 
\V ill. Sent lor to yuur mother I 



All. Even the best of the >hire, Frank, 
Mv lord excepted ; such as sue and send. 
And send and sue again, but to no purpose ; 
Their frei]uent visits have not gain'd her ])resence. 
Yet she's so far from suUenness and pride. 
That 1 dare undertake you shall meet from her 
A liberal entertainment : I can give you 
A catalogue of her suitors' names. 

Well. Forbear it, 
AVbile I give you good counsel : I am bound to it. 
Thy father was my I'riend ; and that affection 
1 bore to liim, in right descends to thee; 
I hou art a handsome and a hopeful youth, 
Nor will 1 have til i least affront stick on thee, 
If I with any danger can prevent it. 

All. 1 thank your noble care ; but, pray you, 
in what 
Do 1 run the hazard? 

]Vell. Art thou not in love? 
Pui it not off with wonder. 
AU. In love, at my years ! 

Well. Vou think you walk in clouds, but are 
transparent*. 
I have beard all, anJ the choice that you have made ; 
And, with my finger, can point out the nnrtii star 
By which the loadstone of your folly's giiiiled ; 
And, to confirm this true, what think you of 
Fair iMargaret, the only child and heir 
Of Cormorant Overreach ? Does itf blush and 

start. 
To hear her only named? blush at your want 
Of wit and reason. 
* AU. Vou are too bitter, .sir. 

Well. Wounds of this nature are not to be cured 
Willi balms, but corrosives I must be plain: 
Art thou scarce manuiiiised from the porter's lodgej, 
And yet sworn seivanl to the jiantofle. 
And dar'st thou dream of marriage? I fear 
''J'will he concludetl for impossible. 
That there is now, or e'e-' shall he hereafter, 
A hatidsome ]iagv, or player's hoy of fourteen, 
But eiilier loves a wench, or drabs love him ; 
Ci'Uri-waiters not exempted. 

All. '1 his is madness. 
Howe'er you have discorer'd my intents. 
Vou know my ai.ns are lawful ; and if ever 
'1 he queen of flowers, the glory of the spriiij;, 
I'lie sweete,-t comfort to our smell, the rose. 
Sprang from an envious briar, 1 may infer 
'1 here's such disjiarity in their conditions. 
Between the goddess of my sou'., the daughter, 
And the base churl her father. 

Well. Gnint this true. 
As I believe it, canst tl;ou ever liope 
To enjoy a ([uiet bed with her, whose father 
Ruin'd thy siate ? 
All. And your's too. 

♦ You Ihmit you walk in clouds, but aretiaii.sp 
old I'caJiiig >va>. 

You think you milk in clouds, but are Ir 
Wliicli cvitaiiily was an error of the pru.-s.— C'<>.\ 
M. Mason. 

So .say Ihc former editors ; the tniili, liowivti 
tlic old rf.idiiiu i-i transrmt, and llie omi-siuii . 
.«..kly ..craMc.Mfd by a bn-il* in tlio lint-. Ii iM' •■ ' 
Mr. M. MaMMi voii.li for the iv.idiiii; <d"a c (iv n 
lie ni'VPr coiidesi-inled to louli. anil ..f the i-xiltiiC 
it is lor his iittlit to sMpiiuse lii.ii .dto;;' llKr i.:ii.M,i 

+ D..e- il lilush find start,] So ilie qii.irto; tli 
edito's poor'y rtad— H..s! Iitush, HiC. 

I Art thou xcarr.e monnmiscd from the poriei's lodge,] 
The lirsi detree ot.servjtude. as 1 have alrcac'y obaurvcd. 



•1,1.] TliC 

-i.iit, 
II 1.H and 

. is, ihat 

t /III was 

•lint to see 

ltd which 

1- of which 

r.i- 

L' modern 



SttNF. IT.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



35» 



T'/r-//. I confess it*. 
True ; 1 must t»-ll y< <i fis a friend, and freely, 
1'liiit, where iiMp<issitiilities are apjiarent, 
'Tis indiserption to nourisli hopes. 
Cans', thou iiniigine (let iioi self-love blind tliee) 
That Sir Giles Overreach, ihal, to niake her ^reat 
]n swelling- tilies, wi'liout touch of conscience. 
Will cut his neighbour's throat, and 1 hope his own 

loo. 
Will e"er- consent to make her thine? Give o'er, 
And think of some course suitable to thy rank. 
And prosper in it. 

AH. \'ou have well advised me. 
But, in the mean lime, you, tliat are so studious 
Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own : 
Remember yom>elf, and in what plight you are. 

Well. No matter, no matter. 

AIL Yes, 'lis much maieria! : 
You know my fortune, and my means ; yet some- 
thing 
I can spare from myself to help your wants. 

Well. How's this? 

All. Nay, be not angry; there's eight pieces, 
To put you in better fashion. . 

Welt. Money from thee! 
From a boy ! a stipendiary ! one that lives 
At the devotion of a stepmother, 
And the uncertain favour of a lord ! 
I'll eat my arms first, llowsoe'er blind Fortune 
Hath spent the utmost of lier malice on nie : 
Though 1 am vomited out of an alehouse. 
And thus accoutred ; know not where to eat. 
Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy; 
Although 1 thank thee, I despise thy offer ; 
And as I, in my madness, broke mv state. 
Without the assistance of another's brain. 
In my right wits I'll piece it; at the worst,' 
Die thus, and be forgoiten. 

All. A strange humour ! [Exeunt. 



SCENE 11.—^ Room in Lady Allworlh's House. 
Enter Ordeh, .\mble. Furnace, and W\tchall. 

Old. Set all things right, or, as my name is Order, 
And by this staff of office, that commands you, 
This chain and double ruff, synibols of power. 
Whoever misses in his function, 
For one whole week makes forfeiture of his break- 
fast 
And privilege in the wine-cellar. 

Aiiib. You are merry, 
Good master steward. 

Furn. Let him ; I'll be angry. 

Anib. Why, i'ellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock 
yet. 
Nor dinner taking up ; then 'tis allow'd 
Cooks, by their places, may be choleric. 

Furu. You think you have spoke wisely, good- 
man Amble, 
My lady's go-before '. 

Ord. Nay, nay, no wrangling. 

Furn. Twit me with the authority of the kitchen ! 
At all hours, and all places, I'll be angry ; 



• VVell. /confess it. 

True, J miisi, &c. | So the old copy. Cox<ter and Mr. 
M. Mason, ih.it ihfV may spi.il ilie nuire of two lines, read, 
Will. I conftss it true, 
I mutt, &c. 



And thus provoked, when I am at my prayers 
1 will he angry. 

Ami). 'J'here was n'l hurt meant. 

Furn. I am friends with thee, and yet 1 'vill be 
angry. 

Oct/. \Vith whom? 

Furn. No matter whom: yet, now I ihiuk on it, 
T am angry with my lady. 

Walch. Heaven fbrhid, man! 

Ord. What cause has she given thee? 

Furn. Cause enough, master steward. 
I was entertained by her to jilcase her palate, 
And, ti 1 she forswoie eatio'^, I perfoiiu'd it. 
Now, since our master, i.ohle Allworth, tiied. 
Though I crack my brains to (ind out tempting 

sauces, 
And raise fortifications* in the pastry, 
Such as might serve for moilels in tlie Low 

Countries ; 
Which, if they had been practised at Breda, 
Spinola might have thrown his cap at it, and ne'er 
took it — - 

Amb. But you had wanted matter there to woi k on. 

jf-'itrn. Matter! with six eggs, and a strike of rye 
meal, 
I had kept the town till doomsday, perhaps longer. 

Ord. But what's this toyour petagainst my lady? 

Furn. Wh'it's ihis ? marry, this ; when 1 am three 
paits roasted. 
And tlie fourth part parboil'd, to prepare her viands. 
Sue keeps her cli mber, dines with a jianada. 
Or water gruel, my sweat never thought on. 

Ord. But your art is seen in the diiung-roorn. 

Furn. Jjy whom ? 
Bv such as preteml to love her ; but come 
To feed upon her. Yet, of all the li-arpies 
That do devour her, 1 am nut of chiiruy 
With none so mm h as ihe thin-gutted squire 
That's stolen into commission. 

Ord. Justice Greedy ? 

Furn. The same, the same ; meat's castaway upon 
him, 
It never thrives ; he holds this jiaradox. 
Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well : 
His stomach's as insa iate as the orH<'», 
Or strumpets' ravenous appetites. 

\_Knocking irhhin. 

Watch. One knocks. [£'iit. 

Ord. Our late young master ! 

Re-futer Watchai.l with Allwouth. 
Amb. Welcome, sir. 



• And raise, forlificiitioas in the pastry, 
H hich, if they had been practised at Hreda, 
Spinola, &c.] iliis w.is one of ilie iimst cilfbrated sieges 
of llie lime, and is fiequenily nicnli.med by our old dra- 
mati?t3. Spinola sat down before Brfda on llie Vlilh of 
A'linst, lfl'^4, and Ihi- town did not surrender until the lat 
of July in the following year. 'J lie besiem'd sntlered incre- 
dible liardsliips : •' bnttir,". says Ihe historian, Heiinan Hugo, 
" was sold for six florins a pound ; a calf of 17 days ol I, for 
forty eight; a hog, for one liimdred and lifiecn; and tobacco, 
for one liundred florins the lb.;" ihis was after liny had 
Cunsunicd mo^t of the horses. A few days altir, the narra- 
tor adds, that " as innch tobacco as in other pl.nes might 
have been lia<l for ten florins, was sold in Breda for twelve 
hnndri'd .'" It appears that Ihis tobacco was used as "phy- 
sic, it being the only remedy they had ai;ain!.t the scnrv>." 

'J'he raisiny of fortifications in pastry >eems to have 
been a fashionable praciiie, i-ince 1 scarcely rtc«illict the 
detads of any urial eiit>-rtaiuineMt in the reign-- of Ki;zabelh 
and James, wlu re ihe foitil'icitions of th-; cook or the con 
fectioner are iiot duly commemorated. 



352 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Act! 



Fwn. "^'our hand ; 
If you have a stoiiiach, a cold hake-meat's ready. 

Ord. His father's picture in little. 

Funi. We are all your servants. 

Anih. In you ''e lives. 

All. At once, my thanks to all ; 
This is yet some comfort. Is my lady stirring ? 

Enter Lady Allworth, Waiting Woman, and 
Chamheimaid. 

Old. Her presence answers for us. 

L. All. Sort those silks well. 
t'll take tlie ;iir alone. 

I i'.^eitnl Waiting Woman and Chambermaid. 

Turn. ^ ou air an:l air ; 
But will vou never taste but spoon-meat more? 
To wh:it use serve 1 ? 

L. All. I'rithee, be not angiy ; 
/ shall ere louii' ; i'the mean time, there is gold 
To buy ihee aprons, and a summer suit. 

Furn. 1 am appeased, and turnace now grows 
cool*^ 

Li. All. And as I gave directions, if this morning 
I am visited by any, entertain them 
As heretofore ; but say, in my excuse, 
1 am indisposed. 

Old. I siiall, madam. 

L.All. Do, and le.ive me. 
Nay, s ay you. Allworth. 

\_Expiint Oidi'r, Amlile, Furnace, and Watchcll, 

All. i shall ghidlyurow here, 
To wait on your commands. 

L. All. So soon turn'd courtier! 

All. Style not that courtship, madam, which is 
duty 
Pun hased on your part. 

L. All Well, you shall o'ercome; 
I'll not contend in words. How is it with 
Your noble Mi;ister'.' 

All. 1-^ver like himself; 
No soru|)le lessen'd in the full weight of honour : 
He did (orniijaiid me, jiardon my presumption, 
As his unworiliy ijejiuiy, to kiss 
Your ladysliip's fair hands. 

L. All. I am honour'd in 
His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose 
For the Low Coutitries? 

All. Constantly, good madam ; 
But he will ill |)ersoii first present his service. 

L. All. And how approve you of his course? you 
are yet 
Like virgin parchment, capable of any 
Insciipiion, vicious or honourable. 
I will not force your will, but leave you free 
'I'o your own elt-ction. 

All. Any form, vou please, 
J will put on ; but. might I make my choice, 
WiJi humble eniulati(m 1 would follow 
The jiatii my lord marks to me. 

L. AIL ' iis well answer'd. 
And 1 commend your spirit : you had a father, 
Blf ss'd be Lis memory ! that some few hours 
Before tiie will of iieaven took him from me, 
\Vho dill commend you, by the dearest ties 
Of [lerfect love between us, to mv charge ; 
And, therefore, what 1 speak you are bound to hear 
Witii such repect as if he lived in me. 

• / am appeased, and Furnace now yrows cuoU] Old Cojiy. 
Cooke ; aiiiuiiilcd b> CuxeK-r. 



Fie was my husband, and bowe'er you are not 
Son of my womb, you may be of my love. 
Provided you deserve it. 

All. I have found you. 
Most honour'd madam, the best mother to me, 
And, with mv utmost strengths of care and service, 
Will labour that you never may rejjont 
Your bounties shower'd ui)on me. 

L. All. 1 much hope it. 
These were \ our father's wnrds : Ifeermyson • 
Follovi the war, tell him it is a schnoL 
Where all the principles tending to homnir 
Are tanght. if trulij J'ollitw'd : hut for inch 
As repair thither, as <i place in uliich 
Thei) do presume thei/ man with licence prnctise 
Their lusts and liots. ihey •ihull nerer'inrrit 
The noble name of soldiers. To dure boldly 
111 a I air cause, and, for iheir countru's soji'tif. 
To run upon the cannon's mnuih nndounted ; 
To obey their leaders, and sliii.i mutinies ; 
To bear tvith patience the tcinter's rold. 
And summer's scorching heal, and no: to faint 
IVhen plriitu of provision Jails rcilh hunger; 
Are the essential jiaits make np a toldier, 
Ni't sireiiriiig, dice, or drinking. 

All. There's no syllable 
You speak, but is to mean oracle, 
Which but to doubt were impious. 

L. All. To conclude: 
Beware ill company, for often men 
Are like tn those witli whom they do converse; 
And, from one man 1 warn you, and that's Well- 
born : 
Not 'cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity; 
But that he's in his manners so debauch'd, 
And hath to vicious courses sold himself. 
*J'is true your faiher loved him, while he was 
Worthy the loving ; but if he had lived 
To have seen him as he is, he had cast him oiF, 
As vou must do. 

All. 1 shall obey in all things. 

L. All. Follow me to my chamber you shall have 
gold 
To furnish you like my son, and still supplied. 
As 1 hear from you. 

All. 1 am still )our creature. [Eteunt, 



SCENE III.— A Hall in the same. 

Enter OvF.nREACii, Grki^dv, OitDi;n, Amble, 
Furnace, Waichall, and Markall. 

Greedy. Not to be seen ! 

Over. Still cloister'd up ! Her reason, 
I hopp, assures her, though she make herself 
Close ])risoner ever for her Imsband's loss, 
Twill not recover him. 

Old. Sir, it is her will. 
Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve, 
Anil not dispute ; howe'er, you are nobly welcome, 
And if you please to stay, that you may think so. 
There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipft 
Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself 
For mv ladv's honour. 

Greedy. Is i. ot the right race? 

()'(/. Ves, master Greedy. 

Amb. ilow his mouth runs o'er I 

Funi. I'll make it run, and run. ^save your gOOd 
worship I 



6CEKF. 1 11.^ 



A NEW WAY TO FAY OLD DEB'lU. 



MS 



Greedii. Honest master cook, thy baud ; again : 
how I love thee ! 
Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy. 

Furn.Vf you have a mind to feed, there is a 
chine 
Of beeC, n>ll seasoned. 

Greeilfi. Good ! 

Futn. A pheasant, larded. 

Greedii. That I niiijht now give thanks for't ! 

Finn. Other kicksliavvs. 
Besides, thf re came last night.from the forest of 

Sherwood, 
The fattest slag I ever cook'd. 

Grretly A stag, man ! 

Fiirn^ A stag, sir; part of it prepared for dinner. 
And baked in i)uri-pasie. 

Greedy. Putt-paste too! Sir Giles, 
A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded ! 
And red deer too, Sir Giles, and baked in puft- 

paste ! 
All business set aside, let us give thanks here. 

Finn. How the lean skeleton's rapt! 

Over. You kno'v we cannot. 

Mar. ^ our worships are to sit on a commission, 
And if vou fail to come, you lose the cause. 

Greedu. Cause me no causes. I'll prove't, for 
such a dinner, 
We may put oft' a commission : you shall find it 
Henrici decimo qiutrtK, 

Over. Kie, master Greedy ! 
Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner 1 
No more, for shame ! we must forget the belly 
When we think of ])rofit. 

Greedq. Well, you shall o'er-rule me ; 
I could e'en cry now. \)o you iiear, master 6ook, 
Send but a corner of that immortal pasty, 
And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy 
Send you — a brace of tliree-pences. 

Fiirn. Will you be so prodigal ? 

Enter Wellborn. 

Ove>-. Remember me to your lady. Who Lave 
we here I 

Well. You know me*, 

Over. I did once, but now I will not ; 
Thou ai't no blood ot mine. Avarrht, thou beggar ! 
It ever thou presume to own me more, 
I'll have thee caged, and wliipt. 

Greedy. I'll grant the warrant. 
Think of pie-corner, Furnai e ! 

[ F.xeti lit verieach, Greedy, aid Marrall. 

Watch. Will you out, sir? 
( wonder how you durst creep in. 

Old. This is rudeness, 
And saucy impudence. 

Amb. Cannot you stay 
To be served, among your fellows, from the basketf, 
But you must press into the hall? 

Fiirn. Prithee, vanish 



• Well. You know me ] For ihis (iignified answer the 
modem eilitois, wiili equal elegance and liarimiiiy, rciil — 
Don't yoii know nre ! 

+ J'o be sirved, amony your fellows, from the basket,! i e. 
from tlie bnken bicid and meat which, in great houses, 
was distiilnileil lo the vmor at the porter's lodge, or teseived 
to be car'ieil every night lo the prison.-, for debtors and 
(••her neee>>itons peisi ns. Hence, perliaps, the allusion of 
• •nble. Thus .-hirley: " I'll hive you clapt »p again, where 
yon siiall howl all d.ij at the grate, for a meal at night yror/i 
the basket." Bird in a Cage. 



Into some outhouse, though it be the pigstie ; 
My scullion shall come to thee. 

Enter Allworth. 

Well. This is rare : 
Oh, here's lorn Allworth. Tom ! 

All, We must be strangers; 
Nor would I have you seen here for a million. [Exit. 

We^l. Better and better. Hecontemns me loo ! 

Enter Waiting Woman and Ciiamberniaid. 
Wninan. Foh, what a smell's here ! what thing's 

this? 
Cham. A creature 
Made out of the privy ; let us hence, for love's 

sake. 
Or 1 shall swoon. 

Woman. I begin to faint already. 

\_Exeunt Waiting Woman and Chambermaid, 
Watch. Will you know your way I 
Amb. Or shall we teach it you 
By the head and shoulders? 

Well. No; I will not stir; 
Do you mark, I will not : let me see the wretch 
That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves, 
Created only to make legs, and cringe ; 
To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher; 
That have not souls only to hope a blessing 
Bevond blackjacks or flagons; you, that were born 
Only to consume meat and drink, and batten 
Upon reversions ?— who advances? who 
Shows me the way ? 
Old. My lady ! 
Enter Lady Allworth, Waiting Woman, and 
Chambermaid. 

Cham. Here's the monster. 

Woman. Sweet madam, keep your glove to your 
nose. 

Cham. Or let me 
Fetch some perfumes may be predominant j 
You wrong yourself el.-e. 

Well. IMadain, my designs 
Bear me to you. 

L. All. lo me! 

Well. And though I have met with 
But ragged entertainment from your grooms here, 
I hope from you to receive that noble usage 
As may become the true friend of your husband, 
And then 1 shall forget these. 

L. All. I am amazed 
'I'o see, and hear this rudeness. Darest thou think, 
Though sworn, that it can ever find belief. 
That'l, who to the best men of this country 
Denied my presence, since my husband's death, 
Can fall so low, as to change words with thee? 
Thou son of infamy, Ibrbear my house. 
And know, and keep the distance that's between us 
Or, though h be against my gentler temper, 
1 shall take jrder you no more shall be 
An eyesore to me. 

Weld. Scorn me not, good lady; 
But, as in form you are angelical, 
Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe 
At the least awhile to hear me. You will grant 
The blood that runs in this arm is as noble 
As that which fills your veins; those costly jewel?. 
And those rich clothes you wear, your men's ob- 
servance. 
And women's flattery, are in you no virtues ; 
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. 



^54 



A NEW WAV TO PAY OLD DKBTS. 



[Act II 



You have a fair fame, and, 1 know, deseivo it; 
Yet, laily, I must say, in noihiiig more 
Than in ilie piuus sorrow you liave shown 
For your late noble liusiwnd. 
Old. How she starts ! 

Fuin. And liar.ly can keep finjjer from the eye, 
To hear him named. 

L. All. Have you aught else to say ? 
Well 'I'iiat husband, madam, was once in his 
fortune 
Almost as low as I ; want, debts, and quarrels 
Lay lieavy on him : let it not be thought 
A boast in me, though I s'ly, I relieved him. 
M'was I that gave Inm fasiuon ; mine the sword 
That did on all occasions second his; 
I brought him on and oli', with honour, lady ; 
And wiien in all men's judgmenis he was sunk, 
And in Ids own hojies not to be buoy'd up*, 
I ste|)|i'd unto him, took him by the hand. 
And set liim upright. 

Flint. Are not we base rogues 
That could forget this? 

Well. 1 confess, yoA made him 
Master of your estate ; nor could your friends. 
Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you 

tor it ; 
For lie had a sliape, and to that shape a mind 
Made up of all parts, either great or noble ; 



So winning a behaviour, not to be 
Resisted, mtidum. 

L. A II. 'r;s most true, he liad. 

Well. For his sake, tlien, in that I was his friend. 
Do not contemn me. 

L. All. For what's past excuse me, 
I will redtem it. Order, give the gentleman 
A hundred ])ounds. 

Well iS'o. nuidiim, on no terms : 
[ will nor beg nor borrow sixpence of you, 
But be su])plied elsewhere, or want thus ever. 
Only one suit 1 make, which you deny not 
To strangers ; and 'tis this. \_Whhpers toher 

L. All. lie! nothing else? 

Well. Nothing, unless you please to charge your 
servants. 
To throw away a little respect upon me. 

L. All. What you demand is yours. [Eu't. 

Well. I thank you, ladv. 
Now what can be wrought out of such a suit 
Is yet in sui)position : 1 have* said all; 
When you please, you may retire: — nay, all's for- 
gotten ; 
And, tor a lucky omen to my project. 
Shake hands, and end all quarrels in the cellar. 

Ord. Agreed, agreed. 

Furn. Still merry master Wellborn. \_Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



.*CENE T. — A lioom in Overreach's Home. 
Enter OvEitnEACii and M*rrall. 

Over. He's gone, I warrant thee; this commis- 
sion crush 'd him. 

Mm: Vour worshipsf have the way on't, and 
ne'er miss 
To squeeze these unthrifts into air : and yet 
'Ihe chapfall'n justice did his part, returning, 
For your advantage, the certificate. 
Against his conscience, and his knowledge too, 
Willi your good favour, to the utter ruin 
Of the poor farmer. 

Oner. ' I'was for these good ends 
I made him a justice : he that bribes his belly 
Is certain to command his soul. 

Mm: I wonder. 
Still with your license, why, your worship having 
The power to put this thin-gut in commission, 
^'oll are not in't yotirself? 

Ova: Thou art a fool ; 
In being out of office I am out of danger; 
Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble, 
I might or out of wilfulness, or error, 
Uun myself finely into a premunire. 
And .-o become a prey to the informer. 



* not to bt bnoy'd lyp,"] So 

D'Ktsli'y, aii.l pcrliaps iii;litly : the qiurtu reads, buny d up. 

t M.u. Your woisliips have the way on't, and ne'er mits] 
Tliis I take lu be llie giiuiiiie reidiiig, tor llie quarto ii bold 
iliC'irt'ct mill tiiii;raniiii.itic.il here. 'llie furmer editorj 
rea I, Vunr worship has, &., as ii a coinpliment were in- 
•ciirlcil til Ovcrreacli ; but Overreach was not in tlie corn- 
O'-srioii, wtiii'h is here said (D have the icay on't. 



No, I'll have none oft ; 'tis enough I keeo 
Greedy at mv devotion : so he serve 
My purposes, let iiim hang, or damn, I care not ; 
Friendship is but a v,-ord. 

Mar. Vou are all wisdom. 

Over. 1 would be worldly wise; for the other 
wisdom. 
That does j)rescribe us a well-govern'd life, ^ 
And to do right to others, as ourselves, 
1 value not an atom. 

Mar. What course take you. 
With your goofkpatience, to hedge in the manor 
Of your neighbour, master Frugal? as 'tis said 
He will nor sell, nor borrow, nor exchange ; 
And his land lying in the midst of your many 

lordships- 
Is a foul blemish. 

Ovir. 1 have thought on't, Marrall, 
And it shall take. I must have all men sellers, 
And I the only purchaser. 

Mar. 'I'is most fit, sir. 

Oi«r. I'll therefore buy some cottage near his 
manor*. 



* Over. /■// therefore huy some cottage near his manor 
&c.] Sir Giles is a bold and daring oppressor, siiltieieiitly 
original in his general plans, and not scnipnlons of the 
means employed in llieir evecntion. Here, liowtver, he is 
but an imitator; the methods of wresting a defcmeless 
neigliboiir'seiivied properly from him have been nndi r>tood, 
and practised, by the Oveireaches of idl ;iges, fioin ihat oi 
Aliab to the present. — Liicet ai/ros ayris ndjiciat, .sa\ s .Seneca, 
vicinum vet prelio psllat ceris, vel injuria. A.nil Jnveiul, 
more at l.irge : 

majorque vidftur, 

Et meVior vicina seges ; mercariset hatir, el 
Arbusia, el dnisa montem qui canit tiliva. 
Quorum sipretio dominus non tiincitiir ullo. 



r-1 



A NE\\ WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



355 



Wliicli done, I'll malcB my men break ope bis fences, 
Ride o'er bis stamling corn, and in tbe nigbt 
Set fire on bis barns, or break bis cattle's legs : 
Tbese trespasses draw on suits, and suits expenses, 
Wbicb I can spare, but will s^'on beggar bim, 
Wben I bave barried bim tbus two or tbree year, 
Tboijgb be sue in J'orma pauperis, in spite 
Of all bis tbrift and care, lie'U grow bebind hand. 

Mar. Tbe best I ever lieard : I could adore you. 

Orcr. 'I'ben, with tbe favour of my man of law, 
I will petend some title : want will force bim 
To put it to arbitrement ; then, if he sell 
For half the value, he shall have ready money, 
And 1 possess his land. 

Miir. 'I'ls above wonder ! 
Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not 
The.-ie fine arts, sir, to hook him in. 

Over. Well tboug-ht on. 



Node bovet macri, taatoque fameHca colla 
Jurnenta ad virides hujus tnit/entur aristas. 
Ulcere vix possif, quam mulii talia plorent, 
Et quot venalet injuria fecerit ayros. 

S.it. xiv. vcr. 142. 
Sir Giles has been usually accounttd tlie creature of the 
poet. Fortunately for maiikiiict, indeed, suih monstrous 
anomalies in the moral world do not olti'n appear ; there 
cau, however, be no doubt of tlicir reality, and the age of 
Mas^inger was not without a proof of it. 

Sir (jJiles jMompesson was undoiibtrdly the prototype of 
Sir Gdes Overreach. He and one Michel iiad obt.iined of 
the facile James a patent fur llie sole inaiiuf.iclurint: of gi'hl 
and silver thread, wliich they abnsed to tlie most detestable 
purposes. " Tliey found out," says Wilson, "a new alclie- 
mistical way to make gold and silver lace with ■ opper and 
other sophistical materials, to cozen an<l deceive the people. 
And so poysonous were the drugs that made up this deceit- 
ful composition, that they rotttd tlie hands and arms, and 
brought lameness upon those that wrou<4ht it ; some losing 
theii ejes, and many their lives, by the venom of the vapours 
that came from it." 

The clamours were so great on this occasion, that the kijig 
was obliged to call in the patent, and prosecute the otlend- 
ers. There is an allu&ion to these circumstances in '/'he 
Bondman, which was published while the affair was jet 
recent: 

" Here's another, 

Observe but what a cozening look he has ! — 

Hold up thy head, man; if, for drawing gillants 

Into mortgages for commodities, cheaiiiig heirs 

With your new counterfeit yoid thread, and gumm'd 

velvets. 
He dne.1 not transcend all that went before him, 
Call in his patent :" Act II. sc. iii. 

But to proceed: "Sir Giles Mompesson had fortune 
enongli in the country to make him happy, if that sphere 
could have contained him, but the vnlg.ir and universal 
emu- of satiety with present eiijoyiiienis, •lailc h m too big 
for a luslicall condition, and when lie came at court lie was 
loo litile for tliat, so that some novelty must be taken up to 
set liim in a-quilibiio to tlie place he was in, no inaiter 
what it was, let it be never so pestilent and miscliievons to 
otliers, he cared not, so he found benelit by it. To him 
Mirhtl is in ide compariner; a poor sneaking justice, that 
lived among tlie brothels near Clarlon-wel, whose clerk and 
he picked a livelyhood out of those corners, siviiig warrants 
for what iiiey did, besiles anniversary stipends (the fnquent 
revenue of some justices of those times) for conniving. 
This thing was a poysonous pi, iiit in its own n itiire, and the 
fitter t:i he an ingredient to suih a compoviiion — whereby 
he took liberty to be more raveinuis upon pool- people, to 
the grating of tlie bones, and sucking out the Very marrow 
of their substance." Wilson's L'fe and IMyn of JcDnet J. 
tub anno ICil. Fol. 155. 

From this apposite extract, which I owe to the kindness 
of my ingenious friend Mr. Gilchrist, it will be snilicieiilly 
apparent not only from whence Massinger derived his 
firincipd character, but also svhere he found Marrall and 
Greedy. The sneaking jtistice. Michel, niidoiioiedly sat 
for the latter, and his clerk for the " term-driving" Mariall; 
whose hopeful education will now enable the reader to 
•ccoant for his Inowledge of the " minerals wliirli he in- 
*>»'oiatv-d with he ink and wax ' of Wellboru's bund. 



Th s varlet, IMarrall*, lives too long to upbraid me 
Willi my close cheat put upon bim. Will nor cold. 
Nor hunger kill liim ? 

Mar. 1 know not what to think on't. 
I have used all means ; and tbe lust night I caused 
His host the tajister to turn him out of doors ; 
And have been s-ince with all your friends and 

tenants, 
yVnd, on the forfeit of your Aivour, charged them, 
Though a crust of mouldy bread would keep him 

from 3tarvii;g, 
Yet they should not relieve him. This is done, sir. 

Over. That was something, Marrall ; but thou 
must go further. 
And suddeiilv, IMarrall. 

Mar. Where, and wben you please, sir. 

Over. I would have thee seek him out, and if 
thou canst, 
Persuade bim that 'tis better steal than beg ; 
1 hen, if I prove he has but robb'd a henroost. 
Not all the world shall save bim from the gallows. 
Do any thing to work liim to despair. 
And 'lis thy masterjiiece. 

Mar. I will do my best, sir. 

Over, 1 am now on my main work with the lord 
Lovell, 
The gallant-minded, jiopular lord Lovell, 
The minion of the people's love. I hear 
He's come into the country, and my aims are 
To insinuate mvself into bis knowledge, 
And then invite bim to my house. 

Mar. I have you : 
This pofnts at my young mistress. 

Over. She must part wnii 
That humble title, and write honourable. 
Right lionourable, IMarrall, my right honourable 

daughter ; 
If all 1 have, or e'er shall get, will do it ! 
I'll have her well attended; there are ladies 
Of errant knights decav'd. and brought so low. 
That for cast clothes and meat will gladly serve her. 
And 'tis my glory, though I come from the city, 
To have their issue whom I have undone 
To kneel to mine as bondslaves. 

Mar. '1 is fit state, sir. 

Over. And therefore, I'll not bave a chamber- 
maid 
That ties her shoes, or any meaner office. 
But such whose fathers were right worshipful. 
'Tis a rich man's pride ! there having ever been 
IMore than a feud, a strange antipathy. 
Between us and true gentry. 

Enter Welldorn. 

Mar, See, who's here, sir. 

(^ii.r. Hence, monster ! prodigy ! 

Well. Sir, your wife's nephew*; 
She and my father tumbled in one belly. 

Over. Avoid my sight! thy breath's infectious 
rogue ! 
I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague. 



* 'I'his varlet, Marra.ll, lives too long,] .So the old copy. 
The modern editors, for no apparent cane, at least none 
that I can discover, chooSe to read, 'I'his varUt, Wellborn, 
lives too Imig i 

+ Well. Sir, your wife's nephew ■] Coxeter thinks some- 
thing is I'St, because, when Overreach exclaims monater! 
prodigi/.' Wellborn replies, .V/r, your wtfi-'.s nephew. Rot 
all is as it .shiuild be; his answer evidenll> implies, Sir, 1 
am neither one nor the other, but, &c. Tiiis is a coinmoa 
form of speech. 



56 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Anr II 



Come hither, Marrall— this is the time to work 
■ him. lExil. 

Mar. I warrant you, sir. 

Well. Hv this light, I think he's mad. 

Mar. iMad ! had jou ta'en compassion on your- 
self, 
You loiiof since had been mad. 

Well You have ta'en a course 
Between you and my venerable uncle, 
To make me so. 

Miir. The more pale-spirited* you. 
That would not be instructed. 1 swear deeply 

Well. By what? 

Mar. By my religion. 

Well. Thy religion! 
The devil's creed ! — but what would you have done? 

Mar. Hud there been but one tree in all the shire, 
Nor anv hope to compass a penny halter, 
Before, like you, 1 had outlived my fortunes, 
A withe had served my turn to hang myself. 
I am zealous in your cause ; pray you hang yourselff, 
And presently, as you love your credit. 

Wtll. I I hank you. 

Mar. \\ ill you stay till you die in a ditch, or 

lice devour you? 

Or, if you dare not do the feat yourself. 
But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble. 
Is there no purse to be cut, house to be broken. 
Or market-woman with eggs, that you may murder. 
And so dispatcii the business? 

Well. Here's variety, 
I must confess ; but I'll accept of none 
Of all your gentle oflers, I assure you. 4 

Mar. \\ by, have you hope ever to eat again, 
Or drink ? or be the master of three farthings ? 
If vou like not hanging, drown yourself; take some 

course 
t'or your reputation. 

Well- ' I will not do, dear tem.pter. 
With all the rhetoric the fiend hath taught you. 
I am as far as thou art i'rom despair ; 
Nay, 1 have confidence, which is more than hope, 
To live, and suddenly, belter than ever. 

Mar. Ha! ha! these castles you build in the air 
Will not persuade me or to give or lend 
A token to you. 

Well. I'll be more kind to thee : 
Come, thou shall dine with me. 

Mar. With you ! 

Well. Nay more, dine gratis. 

Mar. Under what hedge, I pray you ? or at whose 
cost ? 
Are they padders, or abram-men|, that are your 
consorts ? 



' Mar. The more pale-jpirited ynuJ] Snrely this is very 
good stnse; anil yet llie iiioderti editors choose to read, 
the more didl-bpiiited you. I .\in weary ot Ihese everlasting 
soiiliisticaiiuiis, vvitluiut judgiiient, and without necessity. 

Since this was wiitlen. I have found the same expression 
in 7'l>e Parliament of Love. 

" To what purpose. 

Poor and pah'-spirited man, should 1 expect 
From tliee the satist'aciion," &c. Act II. Sc. 2. 

.So that Ihi- old reading is established beyond the possibility 
of a doubt. 

t / a7ii xralovs in your cait^e ; pray you hang yourself. 

And presently,] 'Ihjs line is wliolly omitted both by Cox- 
cter and IWr. iM. Ma?on, ;hongli the' ^enie of the in xt de- 
pends upon it. Less care to amend their author, and more 
to exhibit him lailhlully, might be wished in both of tliem, 

Z Are they padders, or abiaiu-nien, tliat are your con- 
forts!'] An ahiam-man was an impudent impostor, who, 
diidr<; the gark> and appearance of a lunatic, rambled about 



Well. Thou art incredulous ; but ihoii slia'.t iline 
Not alone at hei house, but with a gallant lady; 
With me, and with a lady. 

Mar. Lady ! what lady ? 
With the lady of the lake*, or queen of fairies? 
For I know it must be an enchanted dinner. 

Well. With the lady Alhvorth, knave. 

Mar. Nay, now there's hope 
Thy brain is crack'd. 

Well. jMark there with what respect 
I am enteriain'd. 

Mar. \\n\\ choice, no doubt, of dog-whips. 
Why, dost thou ever hope to pass her porter ? 

Well, "lis not far oft', go with me ; trust thine 
own eyes. 

Mar. Troth, in my hope, or my assurance rather, 
To see thee curvet, and mount like a dog in a 

blanket, 
If ever thou presume to pass her threshold, 
I will endure ihy company. 

Well. Come ulouor then. \Exeunt 



SCENE II.— yl Room in Lady Allworth's House. 

Enter Allwoisth, Waiting Woman, Chambermaid 
Order, A.mblf., Furnace, and Waichai-l. 

Woman. Could you not command j'our leisure one 
hour longer? 

Cham. Or half an hour? 

All. I have told you what my haste is : 
Besides, beinj; now another's, not mine own, 
Howe'er I much desire to enjoy you longer, 
My duty suffers, if, to please myself, 
I should neglect my lord. 

1^0771071. Pray you do me the favour 
To put these i'ew quince-cakes into 3 our pocket 
They are of niine own preserving. 

Cham. And tliis marmalade ; 
'Tis comfortable for your stomach. 

Woman. And, at parting. 
Excuse me if I beg a farewell from you. 

Cham. You are still before me. 1 move the same 
suit, sir. [Allworlk kisses them sererally. 

Fur.- How greedy these chamberers are of a 
beardless chin ! » 

I think the tits will ravish him. 

All. My service 
To both. 

Woman. Ours waits* on you. 

Cham. And shall do ever. 

Ord. You are my lady's charge, be therefore 
careful 
That you sustain your parts. 

Woman. We can bear, 1 warrant you. 

[Eieunt ]Vuiting Woman and Chambermaid. 

Fur. Here, drink it off; the ingredients are cor- 
dial, 
And this the true elixir; it hath boil'd 



the country, and compelled, as Decker says, the servants of 
small families " to give him, th-ouuh fear, whaterer he de- 
manded." A padder (a term still in use; is a lurker in the 
highways, a footpad. 

' U ith the lady of the lake,] This is a very prominent 
character in Morte Arthur, and in m ny ot our old ro- 
mances. She Seems to be the Circe of ihe dark ages; an<l 
is frequently mentioned by our old dramatists. 

+ Woman Ours waits on you.] i. e. Our service: cor- 
rnuted by the former editors into — Ours wait o/i you. 



Scene 11. J 



A NKW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



JbT 



Since midniolit for vou. 'Tis the quintessence 
Of five codes of tlie jjame, ten dozen of sparrows. 
Knuckles of veal, potatoe-roots, and marrow. 
Coral, and anibers;ris: were you two years older. 
And I had a wife, or gamesome mistress, 
I durst trust you with neither : you need not bait 
After this, l" warrant you, though your journey's 
lonj? ; [mornino;. 

You niav ride on the strength of this till to-morrow 

AIL Your courtesies overwlielm me : I much 
grieve 
To part from such true friends ; and j-et find comfort, 
My attendance on my honourable lord, 
Whose resolution holds to visit my lady, 
Will speedily briiii;- me back. 

[Knocking vith'm. Exit Watchall. 

Mar. \icilhin.~\ DiirVt thou venture further ? 

Well, [nvih'ni.] \es, yes, and knock again. 

Ord. 'I'is lie ; disperse ! 

Ami). Perform it bravely. 

Furn. I knjw my cue, ne'er doubt me. 

[Exeunt all but AUuxfrth, 

Re-enter Watchall, introducing WtLLBonN and 
Maruall. 

Watch. Heast that I was, to make you stay ! most 
welcome ; 
You were long since expected. 

Well. Say so much 
To my friend, 1 pray you. 

Waich. For vour sake, I will, sir, 

Mar. For his sake ! 

Well. Rlum; tliis is nothing. 
■ Mar-., More than ever 

1 would have believed, though I had found it in my 
primer. 

All. When 1 have given you reasons for my late 
, harshness. 

You'll parilon and excuse me ; for, believe me, 
Though now I part abruptly, in my service 
I will deserve it. 

Mar. Service! wiih a vengeance ! 

Well. I am satisfied : farewell, Tom. 

AIL All joy stay with you ! [Eiit. 

Re-enter Amble. 

Amb. You are happily encounter'd ; I yet never 
Presented one so welcome as, I know, 
You will be to my lady. 

Mar. This is some vision ; 
Or, sure, these men are mad, to worship a dunghill ; 
It cannot be a truth. 

WeU. He still a pagan, 
An unbelieving infidel ; be so, miscreant, 
And meditate on blankets, and on dog-whips ! 

Re-enier Furnace. 
Furn. I am glad you are come ; until I know 
your jileasure, 
I knew not how to serve up my lady's dinner. 

Mar. His pleasure ' is it possible 1 
-. WelL What's thy will ? 

• Furn. Marry, sir, I have some grouse, and tur- 
key chicken, 
Somerai's and quails, and my lady will'd me ask you, 
What kind of sauces best affect your palate. 
That I may use mv utmost skill to please it. 
" Mar. The devil's enter'd this cook : sauce for his 
palate, [month, 

Tbiit, on my knowledge, for almost this twelve- 
26 



Uur.-t wish hut cheeseparings and brown bread on 
Sundays ! 

Will. I II, It «av I like thera best. 

Eiin, It shall be done, sir. [ K.rit. 

WeU. What think you of the hedge we ihall dine 
itiiiler 1 
■^hall we feed gratis? 

Mil'-. I know not whafto think; 
I'lay you make me not mad. 

Re-enter Order. 

(hd This place becomes you not ; 
Pr-'V vou vv'll;, sir, to the dining-room. 

Well. I nn: well here 
T'll I'.'v 1 I'll ^'ii;> quits her chamber. 

Mar. Well here, say you? 
'lis :i rave change! but yesterday you thought 
N'durself well in a barn, wrajip'd U|t in pease-straw 
Re-enter Waiting Woman and Chamberinaid. 

]Vi>m<in. () ! sir, you are wish'd for. 

Cli(i-n Mv livdy dreamt, sir, of vou. 

n'ci/»((//. And the first command she gave, after 
slie rose, 
^^ as (lier devotions done), to give her E.ctice 
When you a|i|iniach'd here. 

Clidin. Which is done, on my virtue. 

Mar. I sliall be converted ; I begin to grow 
Into a new belief, which saints nor angels 
Couiil have won me to have faith in. 

II om. Sir, mv lady ! 

Enter Lady Allworth. 

L. All. I come to meet you, and languish'd till I 
saw you. 
This first kiss is for form*; I allow a second 
'i'o such a friend. [A'/sse', Wellborn. 

Mnr. To such a friend ! heaven bless me, ! 

Well, r am wholly yours; yet, madam, if you 
please 
To <iiace this gentleman with a salute-- 

Jl/iir. Salute me at his bidding! 

Well, i sli ill leceive it 
As a m'lSt hi^h favour. 

L. AIL Sir, you may command me. 

[Adva7ices to salute MarralL 

Well. Run backward from a lady I and such a lady! 

Mar. To kiss her foot is, to poor me, a favour 
I am unworthy of. [Ojff'ers to kiss her foot. 

L. All. Nay, pray you rise ; 
And since you are so humble, I'll exalt you: 
You shall iliiie with me to-day, at mine own table. 

Mar. Your ladyship's table ! 1 am not good 
enough 
To sit at your steward's board. 

L. All. Vou are too modest: 
I will not be denied. 

Re-enter Furnace. 

Ftirn. Will vou still be babbling 
Till your meat freeze on the table? the old trick still , 
Mv art ne'er thought on! 

L. All. Your arm, master Wellborn : • 

Mav. keep us company. [To MarralL 

Mur. 1 was ne'er so graced. 

[Exeunt Wellbm-n, Lady Allwnrlh. Amble, Marrall, 
Waiting Wi)man, and Chamberinaid. 

Ord. So ! we have play 'd our parts, and are come 
off well : 

• This first kiss is for form;] So the qnarto: Coxet*r «b 
surdly readsybrmc. 



35B 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[ActU 



But if 1 know the mystery why my lady 
Consented to it, or why master Wellborn 
Desired it. may I perish ! 

Fiirii. Would 1 liad 
The roastin-,' of his heart that cheated him, 
And foice.s the poor gentleman to these shifts ! 
By fire ! for cooks are Persians, and swear by it, 
OfiiH the grilling and extorting tyrants 
I ever heard or read of, I ne'er met 
A match to Sir Giles Overreach. 

Watch. Wliat will you take 
To tell him so, fellow Furnace ? 

Furn. Just as much 
As my throat is worth, for that would be the price on't 
To iiave a usurer that starves himself. 
And wears a cloak of one-and-twenty years 
On* a suit of fourteen groats bought of the hang- 
man, 
To grow rich, and then purchase, is too common: 
But this sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants, 
Who must at his command do any outrage j 
Rich in his habit, vast in his expenses; 
Yet lie to admiration still increases 
In weahli and lordships. 

Oifl. He frights men out of their estates, 
And breaks through all law-nets, made to curb ill 

men, 
As they were cobwebs. No man dares reprove him. 
Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never 
Lodged so unluckilyf. 

lie-enter Amble. 

Amh. Ah! ha! I shall burst. 

Old. Contain thyself, man. 

Furn. Or make us partakers 
Of your sudden mirth. 

Amh. Ha ! ha ! my lady has got 
Such a guest at her table ! —this term-driver, Marrall, 
This snip of an attorney 

Furn. What of him, man 1 

Amh. The knave thinks still he's at the cook's 
shop in Ram AlleyJ, 
Where the clerks divide, and the elder is to choose ; 
And feeds so slovenly ! 

Furn. Is this all? 

Amh. My ladv 
Drank to him for fashion sake, or to please master 

Wellborn ; 
As I live, he rises, and takes up a dish 
In which there was some remnants of a boil'd 

capon, 
And pledges her in white broth ! 

Furn. Nay, 'tis like 
Tho rest of his tribe. 

Amh. And when I brought him wine. 
He leaves his stool, and, after a leg or two, 
Most humbly thanks my worship. 

Ord. Risen already ! 

Amh. I sliall be chid. 

• On a *uit, Sec] Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason read, Or a 
tuU, wliicli totally destroys the «utli<ir's niennin^. But in 
their eriilions every page, and almost ever> speech, of this 
fine Comedy, is replete with similar liliiiiders. 

f The cliaraclir of Sir Giles is unfolded by these men with 
great spirit and precision. 

t the rook's shop in Ram Alley,] 

Jtam Alleyisone of the avenues into the Temple from Fleet 
Street : the number of iti cooks' shopi is alluded to iu Barry '• 
comedy: 

" And though Ram Alley stinks with cooJtt »nd ale. 
Yet say, there's many a worthy Uw>er's chamber 
That buts upon it." Ram Alley, Act I. 



Re-enter Lady Allwohih, Wellbobn, and 
Marrall. 

Furn. My lady frowns. 

L. All. You wait well. [To Ambit. 

Let me have no more cf this; I observed your 

jeering : 
Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think worthy 
To sit at my table, be he ne'er so mean. 
When I am present, is not your companion. 

Ord. Nay, she'll jireserve what's due to her. 

Furn. This refresh'ng 
Follows your flux of laughter. 

L. All. [To Wellhorn.'] You are master 
Of your own will. I know so much of manners. 
As not to enquire your purposes ; in a word 
To me you are ever welcome, as to a house 
That is your own. 

Well. Mark that. 

Mar. Witii reverence, sir, 
An it like your worship*. 

Well, 'i'rouhle yourself no further; 
Dear madam, my heart's full of zeal and service, 
However in my language I am sparing. 
Come, master IMarrall. 

Mar. I attend your worship. 

[ Ixeuat Wellborn and Marrall. 

L. All. I see in your looks you are sorry, and you 
know me 
An easy mistress: be merry ; I have forgot all. 
Order and Furnace, come with me; 1 must give you 
Further directions. 

Ord. What you please. 

Furn. We are ready. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — The Country near Lady Allworth'e 
Houie. 

Enter Wellborn and Marrall. 

Well. I think I am in a good way. 

Mar. Good ! sir ; the best way, 
The certain best way. 

Well. There are casualties 
That men are subject to. 

Mar. You are above them ; 
And as you are already worshipful, 
I hope ere long you will increase in worsLipj 
And be, right worshipful. 

Well. Prithee do not flout me : 
What I shall be, 1 shall be. Is't for your ease 
You keep your hat off? 

Mar. Ease, an it like your worship ! 
I hope Jack Marrall shall not live so long. 
To prove himself such an unmannerly beast. 
Though it hail hazel nuts, as to be cover'd 
\V'hen your worship's present. 

Well. Is not this a true rogue, 
That, out of mere hope of a future cozenage. 
Can turn thus suddenly ? 'tis rank already. [A$ui«. 

Mar. I know your worship's wise, and needs no 
counsel: 
Yet if, in my desire to do you service, 
I humbly olfer my advice (but still 



• Mar. Jf'ilh rrverence, sir, 

Anit like your worship.] This change of langoage in Mar 
rail is worth notice: it is truly characteristic. 



Scene. III.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



Under correciion), \ hope I shall not 
Incur \our liigli (iisplei:3ure. 
Well. No; speiik freely. 

Mar. Mien, in my judgment, sir, my simple 
jmla^nient 
(Still with vour worsliip's fvivour),! could wish you 
A bett.^r liabit, for this cannot be 
But much distasteful to the noble lady 
( I say no more) that loves you : for, this morning. 
To nie, and I am but a swine to her, 
Before the assurance of her wealth perfumed you, 
Yon savour'd not of ambt-r. 
Well. I do now then I 

Miir. Tliis your bafoon hath got a touch of it. 

[/visses the end oj his cudgel. 
Yet if you please, for change, I have twenty pounds 

here. 
Which, out of my true love, I'll presently 
lay down at your worship's feet; 'twill serve to 

buy you 
A ridinu; suit. 

Well. But where's the horse 1 
Mar. My gelding 
Is at your service : nav, vou shall ride me. 
Before vour worship shall be put to the trouble 
To walk afoot., Alas! when you are lord 
Of ihis ladv's manor, as 1 know you will be, 
'^'ou may with the lease of glebe land, call'd Knave's- 

acre, 
A pl-.ice I would manure, requite your vassal. 

Well. I thank thy love, but must make no use 
of It ; 
Wlint's twenty pounds? 

Mar. Mis all that 1 can make, sir. 
Well. Dost thou think, though I want clothes I 
could not have them. 
For one word to my lady ? 
Mar. As 1 know not that'! 

Well. Come, I'll tell thee a secret, and so leave 
thee. 
I'll not give her the advantage, though she be 
A gallant-nunded lady, after we are married 
(There being no woman, but is sometimes froward), 
To hit me in the teeth, and say, she was forced 
To buy my wedding-clothes and took me on 
With a plain riding-suit, and an ambling nag. 
No, I'll be.furnish'd something like mvself, 
And so farewell : for thy suit touching Kna\re's- 

acre, 
When it is mine, 'tis thine. [_Exit. 

Mar. I tliank vour worship. 
How was I cozen'd in the calculation 
Of this man's fortune ! my master cozen'd too. 
Whose pupil I am in the art of uniloing men ; 
For that is our profession ! Well, well, master 

Wellborn, 
You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to be 

cheated : 
Which, if the Fates please, when you are possess'd 
Of the land and lady, you, sans question, shall be. 
I'll presently think of the meatus. 

[ Wallts by, musing. 
Enter Overheach, speakuig to a Servant within. 
Over. Sirrah, take my horse. 



* Ai 1 know not that !] This, like too many others, is 
primed by the modern editors as an impert'eit sentence: tlie 
expression is, however, comidele, and means, in colloquial 
Unginge, As if\ do, or did, not know that iou might! 



I'll walk to get me an appetite ; 'tis but a mile, 
And exercise will keep me from being pursey. 
Ha! Marrall ! is he conjuring? perhaps 
The knave has wrought the prodigal to do 
Some outrage on himself, and now he feels 
Compunction in his conscience for't : no matter^ 
So il be done. RIarrall ! 

Mar. Sir. . 

Ovtr. How succeed we 
In our plot on Wellborn 1 

Mar. Never better, sir. 

Over. Has he hang'd or drown'd bimself ? 

3Iar, No, sir, he lives ; 
Lives once more to be made a prey to you, 
A greater prey than ever. 

Over. Art thou in ihy wits ? 
If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly. 

Mar, A lady, sir, has fall'n in love with him. 

Over. With him! what lady? 

Mar. The rich lady A 11 worth. 

Over. Thou dolt ! how dar'st thou speak thia? 

Mar. I speak truth. 
And I do so but once a year, unless 
It be to you, sir; we dined with her ladysbip, 
I thank his worship. 

Over. His worship ! 

Mar. As 1 live, sir, 
I dined with him, at the great lady's table, 
Simple as I stand here ; and saw when she kiss'd 

him. 
And would, at his request, have kiss'd me too ; 
But I was not so audacious, as some youths are*. 
That dare do any thing, be it ne'er so absurd, 
And sad after performance. 

Oier. Why, thou rascal ! 
To tell me these impossibilities. 

Dine at her table ! and kiss him ! or thee ! — — 

Impudent varlet, have not I myself. 

To whom great countesses' doors have ofl flew 

open. 
Ten times attempted, since her husband's death. 
In vain, to see her, though I came — a suitor? 
And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Well- 
born, 
Were brought into her presence, feasted with 

her !— 
Rut that I know thee a dog that cannot blush, 
1 his most incredible lie would call up one 
On thy buttermilk cheeks. 

Mar. Shall I not trust my eyes, sir. 
Or taste ? I feel her good cheer in my belly. 

Over. You shall feel me, if you give not Ov6r, 
sirrah : 
Recover your brains again, and be no more guU'd 
With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids 
Of serving-men and chambermaids, for beyond 

these 
Thou never saw'st a woman, or I'll quit you 
From my employments. 



* But J was not so audacious, and tome youths are,] Mr 
Dodsley has, 

" ilut I was not so audacious as some youths are, 
And dare do any Ifiitijj, &c. 

I think Ihe ohi readinj; rii;ht CoXETER. 

Mr. M. Mhson lolK>\v» Dodsley. If and be the gennjne 
word, it is nsed lor the old subjunctive particle nn (it); bu 
whatever be its natnre, il «as coricclcddt llie press in some 
of the ripiis as it now stands In the n xt veise, f<jr Aiid, 
wliiili «as probably laLen, by a common error, from Ihe 
word immecliately under it, 1 have ventured to gubstituW 
That. 



560 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Act III 



Mar. Will you ciedit tliis yet ? 
On mv coiifide:ice of tluir niariiiige, I ofFer'd Well- 
be n — 
I woiiWI give a crown now I durst say liis wor- 
ship — [Aside. 
My n>\s;, and twenty pounds. 

Oier. Did vou so, idiot ! [Sfrffces him down. 

Was this the wiiy to work him to despair. 
Or rather to cross me ! 

Mar. Will your worship kill me? 

Oier. No, no ; but drive the lying spirit out of 

you. 
Mar. He's gone. 



Orer. 1 li;ivc done then : now, forgetting 
Your late iinauinaiy feast and lady, 
Know, niv lord l.ovell dines with me to-morrow. 
Be careful noni>ht be wanting to receive him ; 
And bid inv dauuhtei's women trim her u|>, 
'J'liough they i)aint her, so she caicli the lord, 111 

thank them ; 
There's a piece for my late blows. 

Mar. I must yet suffer: 
l^ut there may be a time — [Aside 

Over. Do you grumble? 

Mar. No, sir. [Exeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. — The Country near Overreach's House, 

Enter Lord Lovell, Allworth, and Servants, 

Lov. Walk the horses down the hill : something 
in private 
I must impart to Allworth. [Exeunt Servants*. 

All. O, my lord. 
What sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching, 
Although 1 could put off the use of sleep. 
And ever wait on your commands to serve them ; 
What dangers, though in ne'er so horrid shapes, 
Nay death itself, thou^^h I should run to meet it, 
Can 1, and with a thankful willingness suffer; 
Hut still tjie retribution will fall short 
Of your bounties shower'd upon me! 

Loi>. Loving youth; 
Till what 1 purpose be put into act. 
Do not o'erprize it ; since you have trusted me 
With your soul's nearest, nay, her dearest secret, 
Rest confident 'tis in a cabinet lock'd 
Treachery shall never open. 1 have found you 
(For so much to your face 1 must proiess, 
Howe'er you guard your modesty with a blush 

for't) 
More zealous in your love and service to me. 
Than 1 have been in my rewards. 

All. Still great ones,' 
Above my merit. 

Lov. Such your gratitude calls them : 
Nr/ am I of that harsh and rugged temper 
As some great men are tax'd with, wlio imagine 
They part from the respect due to their honours, 
If they use not all such as follow them, 
. Without distinction of their births, like slaves. 
I am not so condition'd : I can make 
A fitting difference between my fooiboy, 
And a gentleman by want compell'd to serve me. 

All. 'Tis thankfully acknowledged ; you Lave 
been 
More like a father to me than a master : 
Pray you pardon the comparison. 

Lov. 1 allow it ; 
And to give you assurance I am pleased in't, 



• Exeunt Servants] tlxeunt Servi, sajs theqnarto; this 
Coxeier translates Exeunt .Sirvant, and is f.utlifnlly fol- 
lowed by Mr. M. Mason in his correctest of all editions ! 



My carriage and demeanour to your mistress. 
Fair Margaret, shall truly witness for me 
I can command my passions. 

All. ' lis a con(|uest 
Few lords c;m boast of when thev are tempted. — Oh? 

Lov. Why .do you sigh? can you be doubtful of 
me ? 
By that fair name I in the wars have purchased. 
And all my actions, l.-itherfo untainted, 
I will not be more true to mine own honour, 
'J ban to my Allworth ! 

All. As you are the brave lord Lovell, 
Your bare word only given is an assurance 
Of more validity and weight to m'e, 
Thsn all the oaths, bound up with imprecations, 
Which, when they would deceive, most courtiers 

practise : 
Yet being a man (for, sure, to style you more 
Would relish of gross flattery), 1 am forced 
Against my confidence of your worth and virtues. 
To doubt, nay more, to fear. 

Lov. So young, and jealous ! 

All. Were you to encounter with a single foe, 
The victory were certain ; but to stand 
The charge of two sucli potent enemies, 
At once assaulting you, as wealth and l)ea'ify. 
And those too seconded with power, is odds 
Too great for Hercules. 

Lov. Speak your doubts and fears. 
Since you will nourish them, in plainer language. 
That 1 may understand thein. 

All. Wliat's your will, 
Though 1 lend arms against myself (provided 
They may advantage you), must be obey'd. 
My inuch-loved lord, were Margaret only fair, 
'J he cannon of her more than earthly form, 
Though mounted high, commanding all beneath it, 
And ramm'd with bullets of her sparkling eyes. 
Of all the bulwarks that defend your senses 
Could batter none, but that which guards your 

sight. 
But when the well-tuned accents of her tongue 
Make music to you, and with numerous sounds 
Assault your hearing (such as Ulysses, if [hej 
Now lived again*, howe'er bs stood the syrens, 

such as Ulyssei, if [he] 



A'bui lived affain, &c ] As ttii passage stands ia Ui« 



SCENH II. J 



A NKW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



J6i 



Could nof resist), tlie combat must grow doubtful 

Between your reason and rebellious |i:issions. 

Add this too ; when you feel her touch, and 

breath 
Like a soft western wind, wlien it glides o'er 
Arabia, creating gums and s[)ices ; 
And in tlie van, the nectar of her lips, 
Whii h you must taste, bring the battalia on. 
Well arm'd, and strongly lined with her disccurse 
And knowing manners, to a.ive entertainment ; — 
Hippolytus himself would leave Diana, 
To follow such a Venus. 

LoD. Love hath made you 
Poetical, AUworth. 

All. Grant all these beat off. 
Which if it be in man to do, 3'ou'll do it. 
Mammon, in Sir Giles Overreach, steps in 
With heaps of ill-got gold, and so much land. 
To make her more remarkable, as would tire 
A falcon's wings in one day to fly over. 
O mv good lord ! these powerful aids, which would 
Make a mis-shapen negro beautiful 
(Yet are but ornanents to uive her lu'stre. 
That ill herself is all perfection), must 
Prevail lor her : 1 here release your trust; 
'Tis liap]iiness, enough, for me to serve von. 
And sometimes, with chaste eyes, to look upon her. 

Lov. Why, shall I swear? 

All. O. by no means, my lord ; 
And wrong not so > our judgment to tlie world, 
As fro!ii your fond indulgence 10 a bov. 
Your ].age, your servant, to refuse a blessing 
Divers great men art; rivals for. 

Loo. Suspend 
Your judgment till the trial. How far is it 
To Overreach' house] 

All. At the most some half hour's riding ; 
You'll soon be there. 

Lov. And you the sooner freed 
From vour ji-alous fears. 

AU.'O that 1 durst but hope it ! [Exeunt. 



SCEXE n. — A Uoom in Overreacb's House. 
Enter OvEnnEAcn, Greedy, atiJ Marrall. 

Ooer, Spare for no cost; let my dressers crack 
wifli the weight 
Of curious viands. 

Greedy. Adire iiideed's no tore, sir. 

Over. That proverb fits your stomach, master 
(i reed v. 
And let no plate be seen hut what's pure gold. 
Or such whose workmanship exceeds the matter 
That it is made of; let mv choicest linen 
Perfume the room, and, wli-n we wash, the water, 
With precious powders mix'd, so [)lease my lord, 
That he may* with envy wish to bathe so ever. 

former cditiiins it is scarcely iccoiicile.il)le eiiher to gram- 
mar or siiL-e. I li.ivf liaz.iriled tlie Iranspiisilimi ol" one 
word (if) diiil thead liiion of aooti er (lie). F.t ili- former, 
I make 110 apolos;*, as the iu.-'«rii-il <UI<! fi llie on" .opifS 
freqminl;, remiers it necessary; for tlie latter, I solicit llie 
reader's indulgence. 

• \e\wy chnii^i'st Hui'n, 

Perfume the room, and whui tee wash, thi-ivater, ■ 
II ith pri'vimts powders iiiiv'd. so plin>eiiiy lir d, 
'/'hat he mail, <kc ] Siicli i- llu- iraili. •: of llie ijnarto. 
Coxelcr, wlio probably iiiisuiiilerstood it, adap od it to liis 



M(/r." Twill be very < liargeable. 

Over. A vaunt, you drudge! 
Now all my labour'd ends are at the stake, 
Is't a time to think of thrift I Call in my daughter, 
And, master justice, since you love choice dishes. 
And plenty of them 

Greedy. As I do, indeed, sir. 
Almost as much as to give thanks for them. 

Over. I do • confer that providence", with mj ' 
power 
Of absolute command to have abundance. 
To your best care. 

Gnedu- I'll punctually discharge it. 
And give the best directions. Now am I 
In mine own conceit a monarch, at the least 
Arch-president of the boil'd, t*lie roast, the baked . 
For which 1 will eat often ; and give thanks 
Wlieii my belly's braced up like a drum, and that's 
pure justice. [Exit. 

Over. It must be so : should the foolish girl 
prove modest. 
She may spoil all ; she had it not from me, 
But from her mother ; ] was ever forward. 
As she must be, and therefore I'll prepare her. 

Kiit£r Margaiiet. 

Alone, and let vour women wait without. 

Mai'i;. Vour pleasure, sir 1 

Over, ila! this is a neat dressing ! 
These orient pearls and diamonds well placed too ? 
The gown effects me not, it should iiave been 
Kmbroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of gold ; 
]iut these rich jewels, and quaint fashion help it. 
And how below { since oft the wanton eye, 
'I'he fuce observed, descends unto the foot, 
W liicli being well jiropnrtion'd, as yours is. 
Invites :is iiiiith as perfect white and red, 
'Though without art. How like you your new 

woman. 
The lady Downfallen ? 

Mur_o. Well, for a companion ; 
Not as a servant. 

0(er. Is she humble, Meg, 
And careful too, her ladyship forgotten? 

Marg, 1 |>ity her fortune. 

Oter. Pity her ! trample on her. 
I took her up in an old tamin gownf, 

own ideas in ilii.« perver>e and vapid manner, and was, of 
course, followed by M r. M . M ason : 

Lay my choicest linen. 

Perfume the rovm.and when we wash, the water 
U Oh precious p<rwdtrs mix, to please my lord, 
'fhiit he may, \c. 
* I do confer that proviilence,! All tlie modern editors 
read, lliat piovime: ami lliiis lliey Ueep up an ( lernal wa>^ 
aoainsl llu ir author's fiiicivd peculiarities !— but iiid. ed tlie 
wiird is used bv otbrr writers, .and precisily in ilie seni« 
here reciuiied. Tims Shirley, in a very preity passage : 
" Lady, you are welcome 10 Ihe spring ; the park 
Lo iks fie.«-htr to s.iliite you : liow the biids 
On every tree sin;; with more chi-eiluliiess 
At your acres.*, as if ihey piophesied 
Natiiie would die, and lejign her providence 
To you, tit to .-Mcceid htr!" Hyde Park. 

+ 1 took hir up in an old tamin gown.] Dodrlcy and 
Coxoter (Mr. M. Mason only •' follow^ as a i'ouiid ihnt fills 
up Ihe cry") not knowing what to make of this word, 
changed it wiihont ceremony iMo t altered, n^>, without 
condescending to notice the vaii.ilii.ii ! 1 Ut (oniin is un- 
doubtedly right; it is a coarse lin?< ywoolsey stiitt, sliU 
worn by the poor of this coiinlry under the name of (amutp 
or either Mmmv ; a corruption, I suppose, of t/«"'in«, Fl\, 
which has ihe -ame meaning. The annals of lileratnre <l0 
lol altord an instance of another writer so unworllilljr 
treaterl as Ma^tingel•. 



36« 



A NEW WAY TO PAY 01 D DEBTtj. 



[Act III. 



(Ev«n starved for wan. of twopenny chops), to 

serve lliee, 
And if I understnnd slie hut repines 
To do thee any duty, tlioiio^h ne'i r so servile, 
I'll pack her to her knight, where 1 have lodged 

))im, 
Into tlie Counter, and there let them howl together. 
Marg. \o\x know your own ways, but for me, I 

blush 
When I command her, tliat was onre attended 
With persons not inferior to myself 
In birth. 

Over. In birth ! why, art thou not mv daughter, 
The blfst child of my industry and wealth ? 
Why, foolish girl, was't not to make thee great. 
That I have run, and still pursue, those ways 
That hale down curses on me, which 1 mind not ! 
Part with these humble thoughts, and apt thyself 
To the noble state 1 labour to advance thee; 
Or, by my hopes to see ihee honourable, 
I will iidopt a stranger io my heir. 
And throw thee from my care : do not provoke me. 
Marg. I will not, sir ; mould me which way you 

please. 

Re-enter Greedy. 

Over. How! interrupted! 

Greedy. 'Tis matter of importance. 
Tlie cook, sir, is self-will'd, and will not learn 
From my experience ; there's a fawn brought in, sir ; 
And, for my life, I cannot make him roast it 
With a Norfolk dumpling in the belly of it ; 
And, sir, we wise men know, without the dumpling 
Tis not wortli three-pence. 

Over. Would it were whole in thv belly. 
To stuff it nut ! cook it any way ; prithee leave me. 

Oreedt) Without order for the dumpling? 

Over. Let it be dumpled 
Which way thou wilt! or tell him, I will scald him 
In his own caldron. 

Greedy. 1 had lost my stomach 
Had I lost my mistress dumpling ; I'll give thanks 
for't. [ Exit. 

Over. IJut to our business, Meg ; you have heard 
who dines here ? 

ilarg. 1 have, sir. 

Or«r. 'Tis an honourable man ; 
A lord, !\leg, and commands a regiment 
Of soUtiers, and, what's rare, is one himself, 
A bold and understanding one : and to be 
A lord, and a good leader, in one volume. 
Is granted unio few but such as rise up 
The kingdom's glory. 

lie-enter Gheedy. 

Greedy. I'll resign my office, 
If 1 be not better obev'd. 

Over. 'Slight, art thou frantic ? 

Greedy. Fnintic ! 'twould make me frantic, and 
stark mad, 
Were J not a justice of peace and quorum too. 
Which this rebellious cook cares not a straw for, 
rbere are a dozen of woodcocks 

Over. Rlake thyself 
Thirteen, the baker's dozen. 

Greedi). 1 am contented. 
So they may be dress'd to my mind : he has found 

out 
A new device for sauce, and will not dish them 
With toasts and butter ; my father was a lailor. 



And my name, though a justice, Grf-edy Woodcock; 
And, ere I'll see mv lineage so abused, 
I'll give up my commission. 

Over. Cook ! — Kogue, obey him ! 
I have given the word ; pray you now remove your- 
self 
To a collar of brawn, and trouble me no further. 
Greedy, I will, and meditate what to eat at dinner. 

[I lit. 
Over. And, as I said, Meg, when this gull dis- 
turl>'d us. 
This honourable lord, tliis colonel, 
I would have thy husband. , 

Murg. Hiere's too much disparity 
Between ins (|ualitv and mine, to hope it. 

Over. I more than hope, and douht not toeffect it. 
Be thou no enemy to thyself; my wealth 
Shall weigh his titles down, and make you ecpials. 
Now for the means to assure him thine, obsf rve me ; 
Remember he's a courtier, and a soldier. 
And not to be trifled witli ; and, therefore, when 
He comes to ivoo you, see you do not coy it : 
This mincing modesty has s])oird many a match 
By a first refusal, in vain alter hoped for. 

Mtirg. You'll have me, sir, preserve the distance 
that 
Confines a viri;in ? 

Over. Virgin me no virgins ! 
I must have you lose that name, or you lose me. 
1 will have you private — start not — 1 say ])rivate: 
If thou art my true daughter, not a basard, 
Thou wilt venture alone with one man, iliougli "he 

came 
Like Jupiter to Semele, and come off too ; 
And therefore, when he ki^ses vou, kias close. 
Murg. 1 have heard this is the strumpets' fashion, 
sir. 
Which I must never learn. 
Over. Learn any ih'iig. 
And from any creatuie, that may make thee great j 
From the devil himself. 

Murg. This is but devilish doctrine! 
Oier. Or, if his blood s;riiw hot, suppose he offer 
Beyond this, do not you stay till it cool. 
But meet his ardour ; if a couch be near. 
Sit down on't, and invite him. 

Marg. In your hou^e, 
Your otvn house, sir! for heaven's sake, what are you 

then ? • 

Or what shall I be, sir? 

Over. Stand not on form ; 
Words are no substances. 

Marg. 'Jhough you could dispense 
With your own honour, cast aside religion. 
The hopes of heaven, or fear of hell ; excuse me, 
In worldly policy this is not the way 
'J'o make me his wife ; hi« whore, I grant it may do. 
My maiden honour so soon yielded up, 
Nay, prostituted, cannot but assure him 
I, that am light to him, will not h(dd weight. 
Whene'er* tempted by others : so, in judgment 
When to his lust 1 have given up my honour, 
He must and will forsake me. 
Over. How ! forsake thee ! 



• Whenu'er tempted bi/ othem:] Tlie qiinrto r«-a(ls, WA«i 
lie is tempted, &.C. 'lliii is eyi(l<-iiily w.ong, but I am not 
sine tli.it 1 liave >lriiik i.ul the gfiiiiiiie leading. Dudsley, 
wlioin tlie (Ptiieis tulluw, omi's lie is, which leaves a very 
iuharinoiiiuus line. 



Scene II.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



363 



Do I wear a s-.vord for fasliion > or is this arm 
Shrunk up, or withi-r'd ? does there live a man 
Of tliat large list I have encounter'd with, 
Can truly say I e'er gave inch of ground 
Not puichised with his blood tlmt did oppose me? 
Forsake thee when the thing is done ! he dares not. 
Give ine but proof he has enjoy 'd thy person. 
Though all his captains, echoes to his will, 
Stood arm'd by his side to justify the wrong, 
And he himself in the head of his bold troop, 
Spite of liis lordship, and his colonelship. 
Or the judge's favour, I will make him render 
A bloody and a strict accompt, and force him. 
By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded honour! 
1 have said it. 

Enter Marrall. 

Mar. Sir, the man of honour's come, 
Newly alighted. 

Over, In, without reply ; 
And do as 1 command, or thou art lost. 

[£"i«t Margaret. 
Is the loud music I gave order for 
Ready to receive him? 
Mar. 'Tis, sir. 
Over. Let them sound 
A princely welcome, lloughness awhile leave me ; 
For fawning now, a stranger to my nature, 
Must make way for me. 
Lotid muiic. Enter Lord Lovfll, Greedy, All- 
wouui, and AIarhall. 

Lrti>. Sir, you meet your trouble. 
Over. What you are pleased to style so, is an 
honour 
Above my worth and fortunes. 
All. Strange ! so humble. 
Over. A justice of peace, my lord. 

[^Presents Greedy to him. 
Lov. Your liand, good sir. 

Greedy. This is a lord, and some think this a 
favour ; 
But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling. 
Over. Room for my lord. 
Loo. 1 miss, sir, your fair daughter 
To crown my welcome. 

Over. May it please my lord 
To taste a glass ot Greek wine first, and suddenly 
She sshali attend mv lord. 
Lov, You'll be obey'd, sir. 

[Erei/nt all hut Overreach. 
Over. 'Tis to my wish : as soon as come, ask for 
her ! 
Why, Meg! Meg Overreach ! — 

Ue-enter Margaret. 

How ! tears in your eyes! 
Hah ! dry them quickly, or 1 11 dig them out. 
Is this it time to whimper ? meet that greatness 
That flies into thy bosom ; think what 'tis 
For nie to say. My honourable daughter ; 
And thou, when 1 st-.ind bate, to say. Put on* ; 
Or, Father, you forget yourself. No more, 
But be instructed, or expect he comes ! 

Re-enler Lord Lovki.l, Grf.edy, AuLwonTii, and 

Mar HALL. 

A black-brow'd girl, my lord. 

\_Loid Lo:'ell salutes Margaret. 



■ Put on ; i. e, be covered. 



Lon. As I live, a rare one. 

All. He's ta'en already : I am lost. 

Over. That kiss 
Came twanging off, I like it ; quit the room. 

[Eieunt all hut Over. Lov. and Marg 
A little bashful, mv good lord, but you, 
I hope, will teach her boldness. 

Lov. 1 am happy in such a scholar : but 

Over. I am past learning. 
And therefore leave you to yourselves : remember. 

{ExiL 

Lov. You see, fair lady, your father is solicitous 
To have you change the barren name of virgin 
Into a hopeful wife. 

Marg. His haste, my lord, 
Holds no power o'er my will. 

Lou. But o'er your duty. 

Marg. Which, forced too tnuch, may break. 

Lov. Rend rather, sweetest : 
Think of your years. 

Marg. Too few to match with yours ; 
And choicest fruits too soon plucked, rot and 
witlier. 

Lov. Do you think I am old ? 

Marg. I am sure 1 am too young. 

Lov. I can advance you. 

Marg. To a hill of sorrow ; 
Where every hour I may expect to fall. 
But never hope firm fooling. You are noble, 
I of a low descent, however rich ; 
And tissues match'il with scarlet suit but ill. 
O, my good loid, I could say more, but that 
I dare not trust these walls. 

Lov. Pray you, trust my ear then. 

Re-enter Overreach behind, listeninj^. 

Over. Close at it! whispering! this is exci-llent 
And by their postures, a consent on hoth jmits. 

lie-enter Greedy behind. 

Greedy. Sir Giles, sir Giles ! 
Ovet. The great fiend stop that chipper! 
Greedy. It must ring out, sir, wh3ii my belly rings 
noon. 
The baked meats are run out, the roast turn'd 
powder. 
Over. 1 shall powder you. 
Greedy, Beat me to dust, I care not ; 
In such a cause as this I'll die a martyr. 

Oier. Marrv, and shall, you bunithnim of the 
shambles*! [Strikes him, 

Greedy. How ! strike a justice of peace ! 'tis jietty 
treason 
Edwordi quinto : but that you are my friend, 
I could commit you without bail or maiiiprize. 
Over. Leave your bawling, sir, or 1 shall commit 
you 
Where you shall not dine to-day ; disturb my lord 
When he is in discourse ! 



• Over. Marry, and shall, you barathruiii of the sham- 
bles !] I.ilci ally IVoni Horace : 

PemicifS ei temprstas, barathniinqne macelli ! 
Barathrum is fic((iieiUly used by om old poits in ilie cU»- 
sical sense of an abyss, or dcvouiing tulf : I'lms Shirley, 
" Yoii come to .scour your maw with the i;oo(l ihter 
Which will be damn'.l in )our lean baralhrum. 
You kitchen-jintt dcvoiirer!" 'Hie U edding. 

Massiniier has taken a few traits of the cliaiacter of iiu 
justice from Pasilipbo, in the old comedy of TAe Supposes 



S64 



A NF.W WAY ro PAY OLD DKBTS. 



[Act hi 



Greed}). Is'r n time to talk, 1 

Wbeii we .sliiiu'id be in unfiling; ? 
hov. Hill) ! 1 lieiinl some noise. 
Oiev. .Mum, I'illain ; vanish! sliall we break a 
baroaiii 
Almosl uiaile up? [Thruih Gri-eilu off. 

1,011. I ailv, J understand you. 
And rest most bajipv in your choice, believe it ; 
I'll be a curelul pilot to direct 
Your yet uricetiaiu bsirk to a port ofsafe'^v. 

Murg. So shall your honour save two livei, and 
bind us 
Your slaves for ever. 

l.oiK 1 aui in the act rewarded. 
Since it is good ; howe'er, you must put on 
An ainnrous carriaoe towarns me, to delude 
Your subtle father. 

Ming. I am pi one to that. 

Lov. \o»v break we off our conference. — Sii 
Giles! 
Where is Sir Giles? [Oceneuch comes Joncaid. 

Re-enter Ai.i.wouth, RLuTtiAi.i., and Guttuv. 

Ooer. My noble lord ; and bow 
Does vour lordship find her? 

Lor. Apt.hirGdes, and coming; 
And I like her the better. 

Orer. So do I too. 

Lov. Vet should we take forts at the first assault. 
*Twt TH poor in the defendant ; I must confirm her 
Wffh a love letter or two, which I must have 
Delivered by my Jiage, atid \oii i;ive way to'f. 

Over. With all my snul : — a towardly gentleman ! 
Your liaMd, good master Allwonh ; know my house 
Is ever open to you. 

.Ail. 'i was shut till now. \As'de. 

Oier. Well done, well done, my honourable 
daughter ! 
Thou'rt. so already : know this g-enile youth, 
And cheiish him, mv honour.djie daughter. 

Miirg. 1 shall, with my best care. 

[A'ofse within, as of a couch. 

Oier. A coach ! 

Greedu. .More stoi>s 
Before we go to dinner ! O ray guts ! 

Enter Lady Allwortii and Wellborn. 

L. All. ]f I find welcome, 
You share in it; if not, I'll back again. 
Now 1 know your ends ; for I come arm'd for all 
Can be objected. 

Loc. Ilow ! the lady Allworth ! 

Over. And thus attended ! 

[Loretl salutes Ludij Allworth, Lady Allworth 
sn lutes Margaret. 

Mar. No, 1 atn a dolt. 
The si)irit of lies hath enter'd me. 

Oier. Teiice, Patch* ; 
Tis more than wonder ! an astonishment 
That does possess tne wholly ! 

Lov. Noble I.kIv, 
This is a favour, to preventf my visit. 
The service of my life can never equal. 



• Over. Pfncf, PhI.1i;] Patch was Die name of a fnnl 
kept by CaidiiMJ WoUcy, and who li,)» destrveilly had thf 
honour ol iraiiMiiilliiiu his a|ipill,ilion to a vei\ iiiiiiit-ioiis 
body of iirsciiid.tius : he uiin^, as Wil.-on ohscivts, in lii.-i 
Jlrt of HhcuirUivf, 1553, *' a nolub'r J'oul in hisiiuie." 

♦ 'o jireveat wy vititi] i. t. to aiiiicipate it. 



L. All. I\ly lord, I laid wait for you, and much 
hoped 
Vou would have made my poor house sour fir.st inn . 
Ami therefore doubting- that you miybt forget me. 
Or too long dwell here, having such ample cause, . 
In this nnetjuall'd beauty, for \our stay ; 
And fearing to trust any but myself 
Willi the relation of mv service to you, 
I borrow'd so much from my long restiaint. 
And took the air in person to unite \ou. 

Lov. Vour bounties are so great, they rob m 
madam. 
Of words to give you thanks. 

L. All Good sir Giles Overreach. [Sii/itrej him, 
— How dost thou JNIarrall ? liked you my meat 

so ill, 
You'll dine no more with me? 

Greedy. 1 will, when you please. 
An it like your ladyship. 

L. All. When you please, master Greedy; 
If meat can do it you shall he satisfied. 
And now, my lord, pray take into your knowledge 
'J'his gentleman ; howe'er his out>ide's coarse, 

[Presents \Vellbot% 
ITis inward linings areas fine and (air 
As any man's; wonder not 1 speak at large: 
And howsoe'er his humour caiiies him 
'l"o be thus accoutred, or what taint soever 
Kor his wild life hath stuck U|miii his fame, 
lie may, ere long, with boldness, i-^iiik himself 
With some that have conteiiiu'd him. Sir Gilet 

Overreach. 
If T am welcome, bid him so. 

Over. My nephew ! 
lie has been too long a stranger: faith you have, 
Pray let it be mended. 

[Lovell conferring aside with llellborn. 
Mar. Why, sir, what do ymi mean? 
This is rogue Wellborn, ;iionster, jirodigv, 
I hat should hang or drown hiniselt ; no man Ot 

worship. 
Much less your nepljew. 

Ovei. Well, sirrah, we shall reckon 
For this hereafter. 

Mar, I'll not lose my jeer. 
Though 1 be beaten dead Ibr't. 
Well. Let my silence plead 
In mv excuse, my lord, till better leisure 
Offer itself to hear a full relation 
Ol my poor lortiines. 

Lov. I would hear, and help them. 
Orer. Vour dinner waits you. 
Lov. Pray you lead, we lollow. 
L. All. Nav, you aie my gnes« ; come, dear mas 
tir W ellboin. [ Ejennt all hnl Greedy 

Greedy. Dear muster Wellborn! So she said-, 
heaven ! heaven ! 
If my belly would give me leave, I could ruminate 
All day on this : 1 have gran-ed twenty warrants 
'J'o have him committed, Ir. m all pil^oiis in the 

shire. 
To Nottingham gaol; and now. Dear master 

Welll.orn ! 
And, My good nqihcw! — but I play the fool 
'i'o stand here jirating, and forget my dinner. 

Re-enter JMariiall. 
Are iliey set, Rlarrall? 

Mar. Long since ; pray you a word, sir. 
Gnedy, No wording now. 



8cE^•E III.] 



A NKW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



365 



Mar. In fmtli, I must ; inv ninsfer 
Knowing you are 'lis good friend, makes bold with 

yiiu, 
And does entreat you, more fruesfs beiiijj come in 
Than he exjirced, especially iii- nejdiew, 
The tal)le l)H'n<;- full too, von wonld excuse him, 
4nd Miy) With liiin on the cold meat. 

Gieedii. How! no dinner, 
After all mv care? 

Mar. 'lis but a penance for 
A meal ; besides, you broke your fast. 

Greeilu lliat was 
But a bit to s'ay my stomach : a man in commission 
Give place to a tatterdemalion ! 

JK'/jv No biii(* words, sir : 
SI juhl his worship hear you 

Gieedij. Lost my dumplin"' ton, • 

And hul'er'd toasts, and woodc<icks ! 

Mar. Clime, liave patience. 
If yo'.i will dispense a little with vour worship. 
And sit with the waiting- women, you'll have 

diimplinfr, 
Woodcofck, and butfer'd toasts too. 

Greedi/. Tliis revives me : 
I will gorge there s<jfficienlly. 

Afur. This is the way, sir. [Eieunt. 



SCENE III. — Another Room in Overreach's House. 
Enter OvEXiiiEACii, as from dinner. 

Over. She's caught ! O women ! — she neglects my 

l.)rd. 
And all her cnmjiliments apjilied to Wellborn! 
The garments of her widowhood laid bv, 
She now a])pearsas glorious as the sjiriiig. 
Her eves fix'd on him, in ihe wine siie drinks, 
He being her pledge, she sends him burning 

kisses, 
And sits on thorns, till she he private with him. 
She leaves mv meat to feed upon Ins looks; 
And if in our discourse he be bur named. 
From her a deep sii;h follows. 15ut whv grieve I 
At tliis ? it makes for me ; if she prove his, 
^1 that is her's is mine, as 1 will work him. 

Enter Mariiali.. 
Mar. Sir, the whole board is troubled at your 

rising. 
Oier. No matter, I'll excuse it: prithee IMarrall, 
Watch an occasion to invite my nejiliew 
To sjieak wiih ii:e in jirivate. 

Mcr. Who ! the rogue 
Tlie ladv scoin'd to look on ? 
Ouer. Voii are a wag. 

Enter Lady Ai.lwoutii and Weilborn. 

flJar. See, sir, she's come, and cannot be with- 
out him. 
L. AIL With your favour, sir, after a plenteous 
dinner, 
I shall make bold to walk a turn or two 
In your rare garden. 

Over, i'here's an arbour too. 
If your hulvsljip please to use it. 
L. All. Come, master Wellborn. 

[^Exeunt Lady Ailuor'.h and Wellborn, 

♦ Mar. No bug words, sir;' i. c no friglitfiil, leirific 
•Atrds : the word occurs iu tliis sciisi: in all lUii' old poets. 



Orer. Grosser and grosser! now I believe the poet 
Feign'd not, l)iit was his'orical, when he wrote 
Pasipliae was eiiamnur'd of n bii.l ; 
This lady's lu.st's move monstrous. My good lord« 

Enter l.orl Lovi-.i.i., iNlAiiOAiiLr, and ihetesl. 
Excuse mv manners. 

Lov. There needs none, sir Giles, 
I may ere loii;^- sav Failier, wiieii ir jileases 
I\Iy dearest mistress to give warrant to it. 

Over. She shall seal to it, my loril, and mak* 
me hajipv. 
Re-enler Wellborn and Ludq Allwoiith, 

JVIoro-. I\Iv ladv is relurn'd. 

L. All. Provide my coacii, 
I'll instantly away ; my thanks, sir Giles, 
For my enteriniinnenf. 

Over. ' lis vour nobleness 
To think it such. 

L. All. 1 must do vou afurth'T wrong. 
In taking a«ay vour honouraide guest. 

Lov. 1 wait on vou, madam ; farewell, good sir 
Giles. 

L. Ait. Good mistress Margaret ; nay come, 
master W eliborn, 
I must not leave you behind ; in sootli, I must 
not. 

Over. Hob me not, madam, of all joys at once; 
Let my nephew stay behind : he shall have my 

coach, 
And, after some small conference between us. 
Soon overtake your ladvshi[). 

L. All. Slay not long, sir. 

Lov. 'I'his |)ar;in!v kiss: [A'-sses Margaret^ you 
shall e>erv diyhear from me 
By mv faithful page. 

All. ' I is a service I am proud of. 

[L'jei/»( /();■(/ Lovell, Lady All icortli, AHworth, 
aud Ma. rail. 

Over. Daiighier, to your chamber.- [Exit Mar' 
garet.^ — ^ ou may wonder, nephew. 
After so long an enmity be: ween us, 
I should desire your friend.-hip. • 

Well. So 1 do, sir ; 
'Tis strange to me. 

Over. I5iit I'll make it no wonder; 
And wlial is more, unfohi my nature to you. 
We worldly men, when w© see friends, and kinsmen, 
I'ast hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand 
To lift tliein uji, but rather set our feet 
Upon tln-ir linads, to jiivss iheai to tlie bottom; 
As, I must yield, with you I ptaciised it: 
liut, now ] see you in a way to ri^e, 
1 can and will assi?t \ ou ; this ri' a lady 
(And I am glad oft) isenamoui'd of you ; 
'Tis too apptirent, nejdiew. 

Welt. No such thing : 
Comptissioii rather, sir. 

Over. Well, ill a word. 
Because your stay is short, I'll have you seen 
No more in this ha.-e shape ; nor shall she say. 
She mairied you like a beggar, or in debt. 

Well. He'll run into the noose, and save my 
labour. [Aside. 

Over. \o\i have a trunk of rich clothes, not far 
hence. 
In pawn ; I will redeem them ; and that no clamouf 
May taint vour creuit for your petty debts, 
Yon siiall iiave a liiou>and poutuls to cut them OlF, 
And go a free man to the wealthy lady. 



S66 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Act IV 



Well. This done, sir, out of love, and no ends 

else 

Oier. .As it is, nephew. 
Welt. Binds me still your servant. 
Over, No coni|)liments, you are staid for: ere 
vou have supp'd [my nephew ! 

You shall hear trom mc. My coach, knaves, for 
To luoaow I will visit you. 



Well. Here s an uncle 
In a man's extremes ! how much lliey do belie 

you, 
That say you are hard hearted ! 

Orer. .My deeds, nephew, 
Shall speak my love ; wl»at men report I weigk 
not. 

[Exeunt 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — A Room in Lady A 11 worth's House. 

Enter lord Lovell and Ailworth. 

Lov. 'Tis well ; give me my cloak ; I now dis- 
clmro-e you 
from further s,ervice : mind your own affairs, 
X hope tlipv will prove successful. 

J;L What is blest 
With vour good wish, my lord, cannot but prosper. 
Let aftertiines report, and to your honour, 
How much 1 .stand engasjed, for I want language 
To speak my debt; yet if a tear or two 
Of jov, for your much goodness, can supply 
My tongue's defects, I could 

Lov. May, do not melt : 
This ceremonial thanks to ine's superfluous. 

Oier. [ichhiii.] Js my lord stirring ? 

Lov. ' lis he ! oh, here's your letter : let him in. 

Enter OvinRFAni, Gufeoy, and .Mahball. 

Over. A good day to my lord ! 

Lou. You are an early riser. 
Sir dies. 

Oier. And renson, to attend your lordship. 

Lov. And you, too, master Greedy, up so soon! 

Grecdii. Ill troth, my lord, after the sun is up 
I cannot sleep. I'or 1 have a foolish siomaoh 
That croaks for breakfast, \\ ith your lordship's 

favour, 
I have a serious question to demand 
Of my worthy friend sir Ciiles. 

Lov. Prav vou use your pleasure. 

Greedy. How far.sir Giles, and pray you answer me 
Upon your credit, hold you it to be 
From jour manor-house, to this of my lady All- 
worlli's? 

Over. Why, some four mile. 

Greedtf. How ! four mile, good sir Giles 

Upon your re[>utation, think better. 
For if you do abate but one half <]uarter 
Of five, you do yourself the greale.st wrong 
That can be in the world ; for four miles riding 
Could not have raised so huge an appetite 
As 1 feel gnawing on me. 

Mar. Whether you ride, 
Or go afoot, you are that way still provided. 
An It please your worship. 

Ovfir. How now, sirrah ! prating 
Before my lord ! no ditterence ! Go to my nephew ; 
See all his debts di.-charged, and help his worship 
To ni on iiis rich suit. 

Mar. 1 may tit ycu too. 
Toss'u liKe a dog still. [Exit. 



Lov. I have writ this morning 
A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter. 

Over. 'Twill fire her, for she's wholly youri 
already : 
Sweet master AUworth, take my ring ; 'twill carry 

you 
To her presence, I dare warrant you ; and there 

plead 
For my good lord, if you shall find occasion. 
That done, pray ride to Nottingham, get a lice i 
Still by this token. I'll have it dispatch'd, 
And suddenly, my lord, that I may say. 
My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter. 

Greedy. Take my advice, young genileinan, get 
your breakfast ; 
'Tis unwliolesome to ride fasting : I'll eat with you, 
And eat to purpose. 

Over. Some furv's in that gut : 
Hungry again ! did you not devour this morning 
A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colchester 
oysters >. 

Greedy. Why, that was, sir, only to scour my 
stomach, 
A kind of a prejiarative. Come, gentleman, 
I will not have you feed like the hangman of 

Flushing, 
Alone, while 1 am here. 

Lou. Haste yjuf return. 

AH I will not f;iil, my lord. 

Griedy. Nor 1 to line 
My Christmas coll'er. 

[E.yeunt Greedy and Allicotlh. 

Over. To mv wish ; we are private. 
I come not to make ofl'i r with my datigliter 
A certain portion; that were jioor and trivial , 
Jn one word, 1 ])ronouiice all that is mine. 
In lands or leases, reatly coin or goods, 
With her my lord comes to you ; nor shall you have 
One motive to induce vou to believe 
1 live too long, since every year I'll add 
Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too. 

L'V. ^ oil are a right kind lather. 

Ocer. ^ ou >liall have reason 
To think me such. How do you like this setit? 
It is well wooded, and well water'd, the ticres 
Fertile and rich ; would it not serve for change 
'i'o entertain your friends in a summer progress? 
What thinks my noble lo d? 

Lov. "lis a wholesome air. 
And well built pile; and she that's mistress of it 
Worthy the large revenue. ' 

Over. She the mistress ! 
It may be so for a time : but let my lord 



8CEN<5 1.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



4t,t 



Say only ttiat lip likfi.s it, and would liave it, 
I s.iv, eie Ion;;- 'lis liis. 
Lof. Impossililp. 

Oier. Voii do conclude too fast, not knowings me, 
Nor tiip en<;iiie.s liiat 1 »vork bv. 'lis not alone 
The iiulv Allworiii's lands, lor tliose once Well- 

boni's 
(As by Iier dotage on liim I know tliev will be), 
Shall soon be mine; but point our any man's 
In all tliH shire, and say ihey lie convenient 
And nseful for vonr lordshi]), and once more 
I say aloud, they are your's. 

Lilt). 1 dare not own 
What's by unjust and cruel means extorted ; 
My fame and credit are more dear to me, 
Tlian so to expose them to be censured by 
The public voice. 

Over, ^'ou run, my lord, no hazard. 
Your reputation shall stand as fair 
In all good men's opinions as now ; 
Nor can mv actions, ihougch condemn'd for ill, 
Cast any foul aspersion upon yours. 
For, thouuh 1 do contemn report m3'self. 
As a mere sound, 1 still will be so temler 
Of what concerns \ou, in all points of honour. 
That the immaculate whiteiiess of your fame. 
Nor your unqufsiioned integrity. 
Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot 
That may take from yow innocence and candour. 
All my ambition is to have my daughter 
Iliu;ht honourable, which my lord can make her: 
And might I live to dance upon my knee 
A young lord Lovell, born by her imio you, 

write 7til ultra to mv proijdest hopes. 
As for [losspssions. and annual rents. 
Equivalent to maint;iin vou in the port 
Your noble birih and present state reijuires, 
I do remove that burthen from vour shoulder^, 
And take it on mine own : for though I ruin 
The country to supply your riotous waste. 
The siourge of prodigals, want, shall never find 
you. 
Lov. Are you not frighted with the im]TecatJons 
And curses of whole families, made wretched 
By your >inister practices ? 
Ocer. Yes, as rocks are, 
When foamy billows split themselves against 
Their flinty ribs; or as thp moon is moved, 
When wolves, with hunger pined, Lowl at her 

brightness. 
I am of a solid temper, a-id, like these, 
• Steer on a constant couise: with mine own sword. 
If call'd into the field, 1 can make that right 
Which fearful enemies murmur'd at as wrong. 
Now for these other pidilling complaints 
Breath 'd out in bitterness ; as when they call me 
Extortioner, tyrant, cormorant, or inirudfr 
On my poor neighbours' right, or grand incloser 
Of what was common, to my private use : 
Nay, when my ears are pierc'd with widow's cries. 
And undone orphans wa»h with tears my threshold, 
I only think what 'lis to have iny daughter 
Right honourable ; and 'tis a powerful charm 
Makps meiaseiisible of remorse, or pity, 
Or the least s'ing of conscience. 

Lot'. I admire 
The toughness of your nature. 

Ocer. 'lis for vou. 
My lord, and for my daughter, I am marble ; 
Nay more, if you will have my character 



In little, 1 enjoy more true deiigiit 

In my arrival to my wealth these dnrk 

And crooked ways, than you shall e'er take 

pleasure 
In spending what my industry hath cotnpass'd. 
ftjy haste commands me hence : in one word, 

therefore. 
Is it a match >. 

Lov. I lio])e, that is past doubt now. 

Oier. Then rest secure ; not the hate of all 
mankind here*, 
Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter. 
Shall make me study aught but your advancement 
One story higher: an earl ! if ^old can do it. 
Dispute not my religion, nor my faiili ; 
Though I am borne thus headlong by my will. 
You may make choice of what belief you j)lease, 
To me they are ecjual; so, my lord, good morrow. 

[ l"t- 
Lov. lie's gone — I wonder how the eartli can 
hear • 

Such a portent ! 1, that have lived a soldier. 
And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted, 
Tohearlhis blasphemous beast am bath'd all over 
In a cold sweat: yet, like a mountain, he 
(Confirm 'd in atluisiical assertions) 
Is no more shaken than Olympus is 
When angry IJoieas loads his double headf 
With suddk-n drifts of snow. 

Enter Lady ALi.woinii, Waiting Woman, and 

A MULE. 

L. An. Save you, mv lord ! 
Disturb I not vour privacy ? 

Lov. No, good madam ; 
For your own sake 1 am glad you came no sooner. 
Since this bold bad man, sir Giles Overreach, 
jMade such a plain discovery of himself. 
And read this morning such a devilish matins, 
'I'hat 1 should think it a sin next to his 
But to repeat it. 

L. All. 1 ne'er press'd, my lord. 
On others' ])rivacies ; yet, against my will. 
Walking, I'or health sake, in the gallery 
Adjoining tc your lodgiiijis, I was made 
(So vehement and loud he was) partaker 
Of his tempting offers. 

Lov, Please you to command 
Your servants hence, and 1 shall gladly hear 
Your wiser counsel.. 

L. AH. 'I'is, my lord, a woman's. 
But true and hearty ; — wait in the next room, 
But be within call ; yet not so near to force mo 
To whisper my intents. 

Amb. We are taught better 
By you, good madam. 

IVfltnaii. And well know our distance. 

L. AH. Do so, and talk not; 'twill become your 
breeding. \^Eieuiit Amhte and Wcnan, 
Now, mv good lord : if 1 may use my freedom. 
As to an honour'd friend 

• not the hate of all mankind liiie,^ 

I know not «vliy the iiio<li-rii ediuns "iiiil /;crc; not only 
Ihf rli)tliiu but ilie senr^e is iinprovcrt by its resioiatioii. 

t than Olyuipiis is 

When anjjry Boreas loads hh doiiblt; head 
II ilh sudden drifts of sno.v.] hither M.issinger, or bJi 
transcriber, h.is inist.ikfii Olvinpns l>>r Paniasaiis: ii in*/ 
be llie funiicr, for, in irnsiliig to tlieir iiii-niory, Jiuh ."lip* 
are not nniisiul in our oh! wi iters, wb" w:-!.; i-idsed •ilSJil 
solicitous ol' acuur,i>'y in iliese trivial nialteis. 



5r« 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Act IV 



hov. Vou lesspn else 
Your f;ivour to me. 

7.. All. I dure tlien snytlius ". 
As you nre noble (howe'er common men 
Make sordid wealth tlie object and sob' end 
Of tlieir industrious aims) 'twill nota^ree 
With tliose of eminent blood, wbo are eniiajjed 
More to prefer tlieir honours, than to increase 
I'he state left to them by their ancestors. 
To study large additions to llieir fortunes, 
And quite neglect their births: — though I must 

grant. 
Riches, well ont, to be a useful servant. 
But a bad master. 

hov INIadam, 'tis confess'd ; 
But what inter you from it? 

L. Ail. This, mv lord ; 
That as all wrongs, though thrust into one scale, 
Slide of iliemselves off, when right fills the other, 
And cannot bide the trial ; so all wealth, 
I mean if*ill aci|uireil, cemented to honour 
By vii'tuous ways achieved, and bravely purchased, 
Is but as rubbish pour'd into a river 
(Howe'er intended to make good the bank), 
Ren<lerinu; the water, that was pure before, 
Polluted and unwholesome. I allow 
The heir of sir Giles Overreach, Mars^aret, 
A maid well qualified, and the richest match 
Our north part can make boast of; vet she cannot, 
Will) all I hat she brings with her, fill tlieir mouths, 
That never will forget who was her father; 
Or that my husband Allworlh's lands, and Wellborn's 
(How wrung from both needs now no repetition). 
Were real mo ives that more work'd your lordship 
To join your families, than her form and virtues : 
You may conceive the rest. 

LoK. 1 do, sweet madam. 
And long since have considered it. I know 
The i<uni of all tliat makes a just man happy 
Consists iu the well choosing uf his wife: 
And there, well to discharge it. does require 
Equality of years, of birth, of t'ortune ; 
For beauty being poor, and not cried up 
By birth or wealth, can truly mix with neither. 
And wealth, where the'e's such difference in years, 
And fair descent, must make the yoke uneasy : — 
But I come nearer. 

L. All. i'ray \ou do, mylcrd. 

Lpv. Were Overreach' states thrice centupled, 
hisdiiughter 
Millions of degrees much fairei than she is, 
Howe'er I might urge precedents to excuse me, 
I would not so adulterate my blood 
By marrying Margaret, and so leave my issue 
Made up of several pieces, one part scarlet 
And the other London blue, in my own tomb 
1 will inter my name first. 

L. All. I am glad to hear this. [Aside. 

Why then, my lord, pretend your marriage to her? 
Dissiaiulatiou but ties false knots 
On that straight line by which you hitherto 
Have measured all your actions'. 

LoiK 1 make answer, 
And aptly, witli a cjuestion. Wherefore have you. 
That, since your husband's death, have lived a 

strict 
And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given your- 
self 
To vi-iiti and e.itevtainments? think vou, madam, 
Tis not grown publ.c conference J oi- the favours 



'Vhichyou too prodigally have thrown on Wellborn, 
Being too* reserved before, iixur not censure ? 

L. All. I am innocent here, and, on my life I 
swear 
My ends are good. 

Lov. On my soul, so are mine 
To Margaret ; but leave both to the event: 
And since this friendly privacy does herve 
IJut as an offer'd means unto ourselves 
To search each other further, vou having shown 
Y<;ur care of me, I, my resjiect to vou ; 
Deny me not, but still in chaste words, madam 
An afternoon's discourse. 

L. AIL So I shall hear you. [£xeunl> 



SCENE 11. — Before Tapwell's House 

Enter Tapwh.l and Kromi. 

Tap. Undone, undone! this was your counsel. 
Froth. 

Froih. Mine! I defy thee: did not master 
Marrall 
(He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly command us. 
On pain of sir Giles Overreach' displeasure, 
To turn the gentleman out of doors J 

Tap. 'Tis true ; 
But now he's his uncle's darling, and has got 
IMaster justice Greedy, since he fill'd his. belly, 
At liis commandment, to do any thing ; 
Woe, woe to us 1 

Frnlh. He may prove mertiful. 

Tap. Troth, we do not deserve it at his hands. 
Though he knew all the' passages of our house, 
As the receiving of stolen goods, and bawdry. 
When he was rogue Wellborn no man would bo 

lieve him. 
And then his information could not hurt us; 
But now he is right worslii|>ful again. 
Who dares but doubt his testimony ? metninks 
I see ihee, i'rotii, already in a cart 
For a close bawd, thine eves even pelied out 
With dirt and rotten eggs ; and mv hand hissing. 
If I scape the halter, with the letter R 
Printed upon it. 

Froth. \Vould that were the v\'orst ! 
Tiiat were but nine days' wonder: as for credit 
We liave none to lose, but we slial! lose ilie money 
He owes us, and liis lustom: tliere's the hell on't. 

Tup. He has summon'd all his creditors by ths 
drum, 
And they swaim about him like so many soldiers ^ 
On the pay day ; and has found out such a new 

WAY 

To PAY nis OLD DFBTS, as 'tis very likely 
He siiall be chronicled for ill 

Fivih. lie deserves it 
More than ten pageaiitsf But are you sure hia 

worship 
Comes this way to my lady's ? 

[A cry within : IJrave master Wellborn! 

• Beinn tiio reserved hefiire,] This is lli<; reading of the 
qnartd, ,iw\ eviiliiilly uiimim' : il ilrics m>l liowevvr ."atisfjf 
Mr. M. M.isoii ; whu g^vcs us, uii liis uwn aiiil'oiily. Being 
to reserved bej'iire! 

i V'S very li'.ely 

]le shall ie i\\\>m\<;Wi\ for ill 

l<'ii.ih. He (lex'-rves it 
Mine than leu p.i^c.iiiis ) '\'h\< is :i |>!f;is:)iit allusion to 
the iiniiii;i- inilnsiiy miiIi mMhIi Holinsiqit"), .Muwe, lirtlccr, 
ami Iheuther chroiiiciiis ul' limst: liiiii.:'. collcciol csciy un 



Scene IT.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



369 



Tap. Yes : — I liear bim. 

Fvoth. Be ready with your petition, and present ii 
To his good grace. 

Enter AVf.i-lborn' in a rich hnhit, followed by IMahr- 
AU, Gheedy, OnnER, Fchnace, ««rf Creditors ; 
Tapwell kneeling, delivers his petitio)i. 

Well. How's ihis ! petition 'd too? 

But note vvliat miracles the payment of 
A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes, 
Can work upon these rascals ! I shall be, 
I think, prince Wellborn. 

Mar. When your worship's married 
You may be : — I know what I hope to see you. 

Well. Then look thou for advancement. 

Mar. To be known 
Your worship's bailiff is the mark I shoot at. 
Well. And thou shalt hit it. 

Mill-. Pray you, sir, dispatch 
These needy followers, and for my admittance. 
Provided you'll defend me from sir Giles, 
Whose service I am weary of, I'll say something 
You shall give thanks for. 

Well. Fear me not sir Giles*. 

Greedtf. Who, Tapwell ? I remember thy wife 
broiiglit me, 
Last new-year's tide, a couple of fatturkies. 

Tap. And shall do every Christmas, let your 
worship 
But stand my friend now. 

Greedu. I low! with master Wellborn ? 
I can do :iny thing- witli him on such terms. 
See you this honest couple, they are good soula 
As ever drew out fisset ; have they not 
A ]>air of honest faces? 

Well. I o'erbeard you. 
And the bribe he promis'd. You are cozen'd in 

them ; 
For, of all tbe scum that grew rich by my riots, 
This, for a most unthankful knave, and this. 
For a base bawd and whore, have worst deserv'd 

met, * 
And therefore speak not for them : by your place 
You are lalher to do tne justice ; lend me your ear : 
— Forget his turkies, and call in liis license, 
And, at tiie next fair, I'll give you a yoke of oxen 
Worth all his j)Oultry. 

Greedij. 1 am changed on the sudden 
In my ojiinion! come- near; nearer, rascal. 
And, now I view him better, did you e'er see 



iinpoitnnt event and individual history, to swell their useful 
but destiltiiry pagis : 

" I nmrt: vdliniiinous should grow 

Cliiifly if I, like them, should tell 
All luncl of weather thai befel. 
Than Holiiii;*hed or S'owe." Cowley. 

The reply of Froth is sarca>tically aimed at the perverse 
pains bu-to«ed by the former of these writers on.lhe ridi- 
culous niuiiimery, under ilie name of jiayeanis, which the 
city was in ilie li.ibit of exhibiting on every public occa.-iwn. 
* You si. all (five thani.s/nr 

Well, /'ear me not sir Giles.] So the quarto. The 
modern editors re, id : 

You shall give me thanks for. 
Well, hear not, sir Giles. 
^ Which is not metre : but ihey probably did not understand 
the phraseology of the last hemistich, which is a Gallicism to 
be found in every wiier of Massinger's time. For their 
insertion of »ne in the former I cannot pretend to .iccouiit. 

—ha"e iviTst deserved me,i Here ajjaln, 

from ignorance of the language, the last word is thrown out. 
Snch editoisl 



One look so like an archknave t his very counte- 

Tianie, 
Should an understanding judge but look upon him, 
Would hang bim though he were innocent. 

Tap. Fioth. W';rshipfiil sir. 

Greedi). No, though the great Turk came, instead 
ofturkies, 
To beg my favour, I am inexorable. 
Tliou hast an ill name : besides thy musty ale, 
Tliat hath desfroy'd many of the king's liege people, 
Thou never hadst in thy house, to stay men's 

stomachs, 
A piece of Suffolk clieese, or gammon of bacon. 
Or any esculent, as the learned call it. 
For their emolument, but sheer drink only. 
For which gross fault 1 here do damn thy licence, 
Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw ; 
For, instantly, I will in mine own person 
Command the constables to pull down thy sign. 
And do it before I eat. 

Froth. No mercy ! 

Greed\f. Vanish. 
If I show any, may my promised oxen gore me! 

Tu]). Unthankful knaves are ever so rewiirded. 
[ Exeunt Greedy, Tapwell, and Froth 

Well. Speak ; what are you ? 

1 Criil. A decay 'd vintner, sir. 
That might have thrived, but that your worshij. 

broke me 
With trusting you with muskadine and eggs. 
And five-pound suppers, with your after dntdtings. 
When you lodged upon the Baukside. 

Well. J remember. 

1 Cred. 1 have not been hasty, nor e'er laid tjj 
arrest you ; 

And therefore, sir 

Well. Thou art an honest fellow, 
I'll set thee up again ; see his bill paid. 
What Pre you ? 

'2 Cred. A tailor once, but now mere botcher. 
I gave you credit for a suit of clothes. 
Which was all my stock, but you failing in payment, 
1 was removed from tbe shop-board, and conSned 
Under a stall. 

Well. See him paid ; and botch no more. 

2 Cred. I ask no interest, sir. 
Welt. Such tailors need not ; 

If their bills are paid in one and twenty year 
They are seldom losers. O, I know tliv face. 
Thou wert my surgeon : you mu>t ti 11 no tales; 
'I hose days are done. I will pay you in private. 

Ord. A royal gentleman ! 

Fta-n. Royal as an emperor! 
He'll prove a brave master ; my good lady knew 
To choose a man. 

Well. See all men else discharg'd ; 
And since old debts are clear'd by a new way, 
A little bounty will not misbecome me : 
'i'here's something, honest cook, for thy good break- 
fasts. 
And this for your respect ; take't, 'tis good gold. 
And I able to spare it. 

Ord. You are too munificent. 

Farn. He was ever so. 

Well. Pray you, on before. 

3 Cred. Heaven bless you ! 

Mar. At four o'clock the rest know wbere to 
meet me. 

[^Exeunt Order, Furnace, and Creifrfon. 



S70 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



[Act ?7. 



Wall. Now, master Warrall what's the weighty 
secret 
You promised to impart? 
Mar. Sir, time nor pliice 
• Allow me to relate eacli circumstance, 

Tills only in a word ; I know Sir Giles • 
Will come upon you for secuiity 
-For his thousand pounds, which you must not con- 
sent to. 
As he grows in heat, as I am sure he will. 
Be you hut roii<^h, and say lie's in your debt 
Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land ; 
1 had a hand in't (I s^peak it to my shauie), 
When you '.vere defeated of it. 
Well. 'I'hat's foi given. 

Mar. 1 shall deserve it : then urge him to pro- 
duce 
The deed in which you pass'd it over to him. 
Which I know he'U have about him to deliver 
To the lord Lovell, with many other writings, 
And present monies : I'll instruct you further, 
As 1 wait on your worship: if I play not my prize* 
To your full content, and your uncle's much vexa- 
tion. 
Hang up .Tack Marrall. 

Well. I rely upon thee. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — A Room in Overreach's Home. 
Enter Allworth and Marcahf.t. 

All. whether to yield the first praise to my lord's 
Unequall'd temperance, or your constant sweetness. 
That 1 vet live, my weak hands i'asien'd on 
llojie's anchor, spite of all storms of despair, 
1 yft rest doubtful. 

Marg. Give it to lord Lovell ; 
For what in him was bounty, in me's duty. 
1 make but payment of a debt to which 
My vows, in that high office register'd, 
Are faithful witnesses. 

All. 'Tis true, my dearest ; 
Yet, when 1 call to mind how many fair ones 
Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths, and oaths 
To God and man, to till tlie arms of greatness; 
And you rise up no less than a glorious start 
To the amazement of the WDild, that hold out 
Against the stern authority of a f^ither, 
Aud sjiurn at honour, when it comes to court you ; 
I am so tender of your good, that famtly, 
Willi your wrong, I can wish myself that right 
You yet are pleased to do me. 

Marg. Yet, and ever. 
To me what's title, when content is wanting ? 
Or wealth, raked up together %vitli much care. 
Ami to he kept with more, when the heart pines, 
In being dispossess'd of what it longs for 
Beyond the Indian mines ? or the smooth brow 
Ufa pleased sire, that slaves me to his will. 
And so his ravenous humour may be feasted 
By my obedience, and he see me great, 
Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power 
To make her own election ■• 

• if J play nnt my p'ize) This expression 

is frequcnlly foiiml in our old wiileis, jel tlie modern 
editors wantonly coniipt il litre and ilsewliere into — if 1 
play not my part. 

„,.J yim rise up no less than a glorious star.] No, 
which U nut foiuid in the quarto, was jiidiciouKly ii.terted by 
Dodsie . 



All. Hut the dangers 
That follow the repulse — 

Marg. To me thev are nothing: 
Let Allworth love, 1 cannot he unhappy. 
Suppose the worst, that, in his rage, he kill me; 
A tear or two, by vou dropt on my hearse 
In sorrow for my fate, will call back life 
So far as but to say, that I die yours ; 
I then shall rest in peace : or should he prove 
So cruel, as one death would not suffice 
Mis thirst of vengeance, but with lingering torments. 
In mind and body, I must waste to air. 
In poverty joiii'd »• iili banishment ; so you share 
In my afflictions, which 1 dare not wish you. 
So high 1 prize vou, I could undergo them 
With such a patience as should look down 
With scorn on his worst malice. 

All. Heaven avert 
Such trials of vour true affection to me l 
Nor will it unto \ou that are all mercy, 
Show so much rigour : but since ve must run 
Such desperate hazards, let us do our best 
To steer between them, 

Marg. Your lord's ours, and sure; 
And though but a young actor, second mo 
In doing to the life what he has plotted. 

Enter Overreach behind. 

The end mny yet prove happy : now, mv Allworth. 

All. To your letter, an<i put on a seeming anger 

Marg. I'll jiay my lord all debts due to his title ; 
And when with terms, not taking from his honour. 
He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him. 
But in this peremptory, nay, commanding way, 
T' appoint a meeting, and, without my knowledge, 
A priest to lie the knot can ne'er be undone 
Till death unloo.se it, is a confidence 
In his lordship will deceive him. 

All. I hope better. 
Good ladv. 

Marg. Hope, sir, what you please : for me 
I must take a safe and secure course ; 1 have 
A father, and without his full consent, • 
Though all lords of the laud kneel'd for my favour, 
I can grant nothing. 

Over. I like this obedience : [Comes forvtard. 

But whatsoe'er mv lord writes, must and shall be 
Accepted and embraced. Sweet master Allworth, 
You show yourself a true and faithful servant 
To your yood lord ; he has a-jewel of you. 
How ! frowning, iMeg ? are these looks to receive 
A messenger from my lord ? what's this? g'i^e me it. 

Marg. A jiiece of arrogant paper, like the in- 
scriptions. 

Over. [Reads.'] Fair mistress, from your servant 
learn, iilljojts 
That ue Clin hofie for, if deferred, prove toys ; 
Therefore this inscarit, and in p'ivale, meet 
A husband, that will gladly at your feet 
Lati doivn his honours, tendering them to you 
]yith all c-mtnit. the church being paid her due. 
— Is this the arrogant piece of paper? fool ! 
Will you still be one ? in the name of madness 

what 
Could his good honour write more to content you? 
Is there aught else to be wish'd after these two, 
That are already ofl'er'd ; marriage first. 
And lawful pleasure after : what would you more! 
Marg. \N by, sir, I would be married like your 
daughter ; 



Scene I.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



371 



Not hurried away i' the night I know not whither, 
Witliour iill ceremony ; no friends invited 
To Iionour the solemnity. 

All. A n't please your honour, 
For so befure to-morrow 1 must style you, 
My lord desires this privacy in respect 
His honoiiriible kinsmen are far off, 
And his dnsires to have it done brook not 
So long delay as to expect their coming ; 
And yet he stands resolved, with ail due pomp. 
As running at the ring, plays, masks, and tilling. 
To have his marriajre at court celebrated 
When he has brought your honour up to London. 

Over. He fells you true; 'tis the fashion, on my 
knowled^iC : 
Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness*, 
Must put it oft', forsooth ! and lose a night, 
In which perhaps he might get two boys on thee. 
Tempt me no further, if you do, this goad 
Shall prick you to him. 

Murg. 1 could be contented, 
Were you but by, to do a father's part, 
And give me in the church. 

Over. So my lord have you. 
What do 1 care who gives you 1 since my lord 
Does purpose to be private, I'll not cross him. 
I know not, master Allworth. how my lord 
May be provided, and therefore there's a purse 
Of gold, 'twill serve this night's expense ; to-mor- 
row 
I'll furnish him with any sums : in the mean time. 
Use my ring to my chaplain : he is beneficed 
At my manor of Got'em, and call'd parson Willdo : 
'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear liim out in't. 

Marg. With your favour, sir, what warrant is 
your ring 1 



He m-.iy suppose I got that twenty "■•ly^i 
Without your knowledge ; ar'J then to he ?e('iised. 
Were such a stain upon me ! — if you pleased, sir, 
Your presence would do better. 

Over. Still perverse! 
I say «gain, I >\ ill not cross my lord ; 
Yet I'll prevent you too*. — Pai:fer and ink, there I 

All. 1 can furnish you. 

Over. I thimk you. I can write then. ' Writes. 

AH. You may, if you please, put out the ii:iine of 
my lord. 
In respect he comes disguised, and only write, 
Marry her to this gentleman. 

Over. Well advised. 
'Tis done; away ! — [Margaret kneels]. My blessing, 

girl ? thou hiiot if. 
Nay, no reply, begone : — good master Allwortb, 
This shall be the best night's work you ever mnde. 

All. I hope so, sirf. 

[Exeunt Allworth and Margaret. 

Over. Farewell ! — Now all's cocksure: 
Methinks I hear already kniglits and ladies 
Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with 
Your honourable daughter? has her honour 
Slept well to-night? or, Will her honour please 
To accept this monkey, dog, or paroqueto 
nhis is state in ladies), or my eldest son 
To be her page, and wait upon her trencher? 
My ends, ray ends are compassed ! — then for Well- 
born 
And the lands ; were he once married to the wi- 
dow—— 
I have him here — I can scarce contain myself, 
I am so full of joy, nay joy all over. 

[Exit. 



ACT V. 



SCENE l.—A Roomin Lady Allworth's House. 

Enter Lord LoTELL, Lady Allworth, and Amble. 

L. All. I5y this "you know how strong the motives 
were 
That did, my lord, induce me to dispense 
A little with my gravity, to advance, 
In personating some few favours to him. 
The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn. 
Nor shnll 1 e'er repent, although 1 suffer 
In some few men's opinions for't, the action; 
For he ihiit ventured all for my dear husband, 
Misjht justly claim an obligation from me. 
To piiy him such a courtesy, which had I 
Covlv, or over-curiously denied. 
It might have argued me of little love 
To the deceased. 

Lon. Wii it you intended, madam, 
For the poor gentleman, hath found good success ; 



• Y'tt Iheynod lord, to please yoar peevishness,] i. e. you, 
hi« ri.iiis:lit(r, to wlinm lie gives the IiiIl'. 1 liave fometiines 
ihouglit thai this mode of expression, which is more com- 
mon than C'lisory readers, perhaps, imagine, is not siitfi- 
cienlly attended to by tlie cominentalois. Many ditficullies 
would vaiiisli it ihese appellations were duly noticed and 
applied. 



For, as I understand, his debts are paid. 

And he once more furnish 'd for fair employment : 

But all the arts that I have used to raise 

The fortunes of your joy and mine, young Allworth, 

Stand yet in supposition, though 1 hope well. 

For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant 

Than their years can promise: and for their desires, 

On my knowledge, they are equal. 

L. All. Ast my wishes 
Are with yours, my lord ; yet give me leave to fear 
The building, though well grounded : to deceive 
Sir Giles, that's both a lion and a fox 
In his proceedings, were a work beyond 
'i'he strongest undertakers j not the trial 
Of two weak innocents. 

Liw. Despair not, madam : 

• }>f 77/ picvent j/ou <oo.] From the Latin, as 1 have 
already observed. 1 11 aniiripate all your objectinns. 

+ Ail. / hope so, sir.] I cannot much approve of the 
conduct of this young cc.iple ; it is too full of ariilice and 
deceit. Undouljtedly, the insupportable pride and tyranny 
ot 0\^rrtacli, make him a proper subject to be praitised 
on ; but n"t by his daughter, wiio^e character has been hi- 
therto Ml conducted as to gain the esteem of every reader. 

I As my wishes, SiC] yl* is changed in both the modern 
editi uis into Thoufih, for no better reason, I believe, than 
that the cditois did not discover the scn^e of a pl.iin pa*. 
I age. 



STi 



A Ni:W WAY TO PAY OLD DEFrr*. 



[Act V. 



Hard tliin<js are compass'd oft bv ensv means ; 
And judi>mpnt, biing; a gift dtrivt-d IVom lieaven, 
Thoug;li sometimes lodged in the lieyrts of worldly 

men, 
That ne'er consider from whom tliev receive it, 
Forsakes siicli as abuse tlie giver of it, 
Wliicli is ilie reason, that tlie politic 
And cimiiins: statesman, that believes he fathoms 
The counsels of all kinodoms on the earth. 
Is by simplicity oft over-reach'd*. 

L. AIL May he be so! yet, in his name to ex- 
press it 
Is a good omen. 

Lov. May it to myself 
Prove so, good ladv, in my suit to you ! 
What think voii of the motion ? 

L. All. Troth, my lord, 
My own unworthiness may answer for me ; 
For had you, wlien that I was in my prime. 
My virgin flower uncropp'd, presented me 
With this great favour ; looking on my lowness 
Not in a ghi-;s of self-love, but of truth, 
I could not but have thought it, as a blessing 
Far, far beyond my merit, 

Lov. You are too m-Klest, 
And undervalue that which. is above 
My title, or w haiever I call mitie. 
I grant, were 1 a S[)aniard, to marry 
A widow might disparage me ; but being 
A true-bo. n Englishman, I cannot find 
How it can taint my honour: nav, wliat's more, 
That which you think a blemish, is to me 
The fairest lustre. You already, madam. 
Have given surt- proofs how dearly you can cherish 
A husband that tieserves you ; wliich confirms me. 
That, if 1 am not wanting in my care 
I'o do you service, you'll be still the same 
That you were to your Allworth : in a word, 
Our years, our states, our births are not unequal. 
You being descen.ied nobly, and allied so ; 
If then you may be won to make me happy, 
But join your iips to mine, and that shall be 
A solemn contract. 

L. All. 1 were blind to my own good. 
Should I refuse it ; yet, my lord, receive me 
As such a one, the study of whose whole life 
Shall know no other object but to please you. 

Lnv. If I return not, with all tenderness. 
Equal respect to you, may I die wretchtd ! 

L.AIl. J here needs no protestation, my lord. 
To her that cannot doubt. 

Enter Wellborn. 

You are welcome, sir. 
Now you look like yourself. 
Well. And will continue 
Such in my free acknowledgment, that I am 
Vour creature, madam, and will never hold 
My life mine Ovvn, when you please to command it. 
Lov. It is a thankfulness that well becomes 
you ; 
You could not make choice of a better shape 
To dress your mind in. 

L. All. For nie, 1 am happy 
That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late 
ir Gilj?s, yi'ur uncle '. 

It by timpUcty oft over-reached, i The quarto reads, 
and perhaps by (ie.-iun, overreach. For the rest, the obser- 
vation is a iiHiSt adihirable one, and worthy of all praise. 
it may serve lo expliin many lai^cied •nconii^t>•ncles in the 
conduct of the Ovcneaclies in all ages. 



Well. I lieard of him, madam. 
By his minister, .Marrall; he's grown into strange 

passions 
About his daughter : this last night he look'd for 
Your lordship at his house, but missi'g you. 
And she not yet appearing, his wise head 
Is much perplex'd and troubled. 

Lov. It may be. 
Sweetheart, my jiroject took. 

L. All. I strongly hope. 

Over. [uiit/)i//.] Ila! find her, booby, thou huge 
lump of nothing, 
I'll bore thine eyes out else. 

Well. May it please your lordship. 
For some ends of mine own, but to with<lraw 
A little out of sight, though not of hearing, 
You may, perhaps, have sport. 

Lov. You shall direct me. \Slepi aside. 

Enter OvFRnKACH, ■with distracted looks, driving in 
]M Alt It ALL hejore him, with a box. 

Over. I shall sol fit you, rogue ! 

Mar. Sir, for what cause 
Do you use me thus ! 

Over. Cause, slave ! why, I am angry, 
And thou a subject only fit for beating, 
And so to cool my cboler. Look to llie writing; 
Let but the seal be broke upon the box, 
That has slept in my cabinet these three years, 
I'll rack thy soul for't. 

Mar. I may yet cry quittance. 
Though now 1 s-ufFer, and dare not resist. [Aside. 

Over. Lady, by your leave, did you see my 
daughter, lady ? 
.And the lord her husband ? are they in your house? 
If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy; 
And, as an entrance to her place of honour. 
See your ladyship on her left hand, and make 

courtsipb* 
When she nods on you ; which you must receive 
As a special favour. 

L, All. When 1 know, sir Giles, 
Her state re(|uires such ceremony, I shall pay it 1 
But, in the mean time, as I am myself, 
I give you to understand, 1 neither know 
Nor care where her honour is. 

Over. When you once see her 
Supported, and led by the lord her husband, 
You'll be taught better. Nephew. 

Well. Sir. 

Over. No more! 

Well. 'Tis all I owe you. 

Oi'er. Have your redeem'd rags 
Made you thus insolent] 

Well. Insolent to you ! 
Why, what are you, sir, unless in your years. 
At the best, more than myself? 

Over. His fortune swells him: 
'Tis rank, he's married. 

L. All. This is excellent! 

Over. Sir, in calm language, though I seldom 
use it, 
I am familiar with the cause that makes you 
Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buz 
Of a stolen marriage, do you hear ? of a stolen mar- 
riage, 

• and make conrtsies 

When the nods on ynu ;] So ilie old copy. Coxeter and 
Mr. M. Mason slrani;cl> read- -and make court t 



Scene l.J 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



373 



In wliich 'tis said there's somebody bath been 

cozen'd ; 
I name no parties. 

Well. Well, sir, and what follows? 

Over. Marry, this ; since you are peremptory : 
remember, 
Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you 
A thousand pounds : put me in good security, 
And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute, 
Of some of your new possessions, or I'll liave you 
Dragg'd in your lavender robes* to the gaol: you 

know me, 
And therefore do not trifle. 

Well. Can vou be 
So cruel to your nephew, now he's in 
The way to rise? was this the courtesy 
^'ou did me in pure love, and no ends else 7 

Over. End nie no ends ! eiif;age the whole estate, 
And force your spouse to sign it, you shall have 
Three or tour thousand more, to roar and swagger 
And revel in bawdy taverns. 

Well. And beg after; 
Mean you not so 1 

Over. My thoughts are mine, and free. 
Shall I have secuiity ? 

Well. No, indeed you shall not, 
Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment; 
Your great looks fright not me. 

Over. But njy deeds shall. 
Outbraved ! [Bo(/t draw, 

L.All. Help, murder ! murder! 

Enter Sei'vants. 

Well. Let him come on, 
Aith all his wrongs and injuries about Ijim, 
Arm'd with his cut-throat practices to guard him ; 
The right that I bring with me will defend me. 
And punish his extortion. 

Over. 'J'liat 1 had thee 
But single in the field 1 

L. All. \ ou may ; but make not 
My house your quarrelling scene. 

Over. Were't in a church, 
By heaven and hell, I'll do't. 

Mar, Now put him to 
The showing of the deed. 

Well. 'J his rage is vain, sir ; 
For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands full 
TIpon the least incitement ; and whereas 
You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds. 
If there be law (howe'er you have no conscience), 
Either restore my land, or I'll recover 
A debt, that's truly due to me from you, 
In value ten times more than what you challenge. 

Over. 1 in thy debt ! O impudence ! did I not 
purchase 
The land left by thy father, that rich land, 
That had continued in Wellboru's name 
Twenty descents ; which, like a riotous fool, 
Thou didst make sale of? Is not here inclosed 
The deed that does confirm it mine ? 

• Dray_(j'd i?i pour lnvemler robei /o the ffaol:] i.e. 

your clothes which liave been just redeemed out of pawn. 
See Act U 1,8.3) Tohiy a thing in /acprarfpr was a cant phrase 
for pati'niny it. Tlius, in (ireen's Quippefar an Upstart 
Courtier, C. 3, — " lliereislie ready to lend the looser niuney 
upon rings and chains, apparel, or any good pawne, but ihe 
poore gentleniHii paies so dearc for the lavender it is laid 
up in, that if it lie long at the broker's house, he seems to 
biijr his apparel twise." The expression is also used by Jon- 
Wa, and indeed by most ot our old p .et». 



Mar. Now, novN' ! 

Well. I (lo:ickiiowledge none ; 1 ne'er ])ass'd over 
Any such land ; 1 grant, for a year nr two 
You Lad It in trust; which if you do discharge, 
Surrendering the possession, you shall ea>e 
Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law. 
Which, if you prove not honest, as 1 doubt it, 
Musi of necessity follow, 

L.All. In my judgment 
He does advise you well. 

Orer. GootI ! good ! conspire 
\Vith your new husband, lady; second him 
In his dishonest |)ractices ; but when 
Tins manor is extended to my use*, 
\ou'll speak in an humbler key, and sue for favour. 

L. All. Never: dp not hope it. 

Wtll. Let despair first seize me. 

Over. Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee 
give 
Thyself the lie, and loud lie, I draw out 
The [)recious evidence ; if ihou canst forswear 
Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of 

[Ojiens the box, and f/is/i/ui/s (/?« bond. 
Tliy ears to the j)illory, see ! here's that will make 
Mv interest clear — ha! 

/,. All. A fair skin of parchment. 

]\'elL ludenteil, 1 confess, and labels too; 
But neit'her wax nor words. How ! thunderstruck t 
Not ii syllable to insult with? My wise uncle. 
Is this vour precious evider.ce, this that makes 
\ our iuierest clear? 

Over. I am o'erwlielm'd with wonder ! 
What prodigy is this? what subtile devil 
Hath r.ized out the inscription? the wax 
'j'tnn'd into dust! — the rest of my deeds whole. 
As « hen they were deliver'd, and this only 
Rlade nothing! do you deal with wirches, rascal? 
There is a statute for you, which will bntigf 
Your neck in an hempen circle ; yes, there is ; 
And now 'lis better thought for}, cheater, knovr 
1 his juggling shall not save you. 

Well. To save thee 
Would beggar the stock of mercy. 

Over. Marrall ! 

Mar. Sir. 

Over. 1 hough the witnesses are dead, your te» 
timony 
Help with an oath or two: and for thy master, 
Thv liberal master, my good honest servant, 
I know thou wilt swear any thing to dash 
This cunning sleight: besides, 1 know thou art 
A [lublic notary, and such stand inlaw 
For a dozen witnesses : the deed being drawn too^j 
By thee, my careful Marrall, and deliver'd 
V\ hen thou wert present, will make good my title. 
Will thou not swear this ? 
Mar. I ! no, 1 assure you : 

but when 



This manor is exiendetl to my use.'] i. e. seized. It is > 
legal phrase, and occurs continually. 

t There is a statute /or you, &;c.l This statute, «hich un 
fortunately brought many a neck into a hempen cirrle, wai 
niadt 111 ihe tiist year of James. Itdecreedthe punishment 
of de.ith for a variety of impossible crimes; which yet were 
fuU> proved upon a number of poor ignor.iut super. nnuated 
wretches, who were cijoled or terrihed into a full confes- 
sion ..f them. This diabolical law was repealed about the 
midille of the last century. 

: And now '/i.f better thovght for.T 1 his is right, and 
perieclh agieeable to the pr:ictice of ,\fassiiii;er's times, in- 
(iee<l, of all times; yet Mr. M. Mas.m is iw.t content, but ar 
bilrarily reads. And now tis better thouyht of i 



S74 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



fAcT V. 



I have a conscience not sear'd up like yours ; 
I know no deeds. 

Over. Wilt iliou betray me? 

Mar. Keep liim 
Fiom using- of his linnds, I'll use my tongue 
To his no hitle torment. 

Cher. Mine own varlet 
Rebel against me ! 

yiar Yes, and uncase you too. 
The idiot, the Patch, the slave, the booby*, 
The property fit only io be beaten 
For your morninc: exercise, your football, or 
The unprofitable lump of flesh, your drudge; 
Can now anatomize you, and lay open 
All your black plots, and level wiih the earth 
Your hill of pride : and, wiili these gabions 

guarded, 
Unload my e^reat artillery, and shake. 
Nay, pulverize, the walls you think defend you. 

L. All. How he foams at the mouth with rage ! 

Well. To him again. 

Over. O that I had thee in my gripe, I would 
tear thee 
Joint after joint ! 

Mar. I know you are a tearer. 
But I'll have first your fangs pared off, and then 
Come nearer to you ; when I have discover'd. 
And made it good before the judge, what ways. 
And devilish practices, you used to cozen wiib 
An army of whole families, who yet alive. 
And but enroll'd for soldiers, were able 
To take in Dunkirkf. 

Well. All will come out. 

/ . All. The better. 

Over. But that I will live, rogue, to torture 
thee, 
And make thee wish, and kneel, in vain, to die, 
These swords that keep thee from me, should fix 

here. 
Although they made my body but one wound, 
But I would reach thee. 

Liw. Heaven's hand is in this ; 
One bandog worry the other ! [Aside. 

Over. I play the fool. 
And make my anggr but ridiculous : 
ihere will be a time and place, there will be, 

cowards. 
When you shall feel what I dare do. 

Well, i think so : 
You dare do any ill, yet want true valour 
To be honest, and repeut. 



• Thi- idiot, the Patch, the ilave, ^e.] The vtngeance 
of « litlle mind, confident of its cunning, h happily por- 
traj«d in tlie recajiitnlalion of those ahiisive terms which 
had been, at various times,lavhhed upon Marrall.and which 
though lie submitted to them in silence, he had carefully 
froas.ired up lill tlie occasion should ofler of retorting them 
wMh sarca.-tic triumph and exultation. 

• An artnif of whole families who pet live. 
And but (nroll'dfor soldiers, were able 
'I o take in Dunkirk.] Tliis speech is very erroneously 
given by (,»x;tcr and Mr. M. Mason. For live I have ven- 
•nifd to substitute ithve; as I believe that the author had in 
view a passage in the Virgin Martyr: 
" Were the Christians, 
Wi o-e names ttand here, alive And arm'd, not Rome 
uiiiild move upon her hinges." 
To take in, means to subdue, to seize. The modern edi- 
lor>, i-norant of this (and, 1 may venture to add, after the 
i.umenius mstani-es vhicii we have already had of this fa- 
•iiili.ir evpiesMun, mexcusably ignorant), strike out in. and 
rfdiice the line to mere prosel 



Oier. J'hey are words 1 know not, 
Nor e'er will' learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue, 

Enter Greedy and Parson Wii.i.do*. 
Shall find no harbour here : — after these storms 
At length a calm appears. Welcome, most wel 

come ! 
There's comfort in thy looks ; is the deed done? 
Is my daughter married ? say but so, my chaplain. 
And 1 am tame. 

Wittdo. Married ! yes, I assure you. 
Over. I'heii vanish all sad thoughts ! tliere's mor* 
gold for thee. 
My doubts and fears are in the titles drown'd 
Of my honourable, my right honourable daughter. 
Greidif. Here will be feasting; at least for ft 
month 
I am provided : empty guts, croak no more. 
You shall he stufled like bagpipes, not with wind, 
But bearing dishesf. 
Over. Instantly be here? 

[Whispering to Willdo. 
To my wish! to my wish! Now you that plot 

against mej. 
And hoped to trip my heels up, that contemn'd me. 
Think on't and tremble : — [Loud music].— ihey come ! 

I hear the music. 
A lane there for my lord I 
Well. This sudden heat 
May yet be cooi'd, sir. 

Over. Make way there for my lord ! 

Enter Allworth and MARCAnEx. 

Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing, 
with 
Your full allowance of the choice I have made. 
As ever you could make use of your reason, 

[Kneeling 
Grow not in passion ; since you may as vcell 
Call back the day that's |iast, as untie the knot 
Which is too strongly fasten'd : not to dwell 
Too long on words, this is my husband. 

Oier. How ! 

AIL So I assure you ; all the rites of marriage 
With every circumstance, are past. Alas ! sir, 
Although I am no lord, but a lord's page. 
Your daughter and my loved wife mourns not for it , 
And for right honourable son-in-law, you may say 
Your dutiful daughter. 

Over. Devil ! are they married ? 

Willdo. Do a father's part, and say. Heaven give 
them joy ! 

• Enter Greedy and Parson Willdo ] So the parsoa 
is called in the list of diainatis persons, and in every pari 
of tlie play : Yet I know not for what >-ea.son the nioderi 
editors contmually call him U'el/-do'. They must have a 
little notion of humour, as of the true character of Overreac^ 
if they imagine this to be the better name. 

i iiut be.iring dishes.] i. e. soliil, substantial dishes; oi 
what the steward in 'I'he Unnatural Combat, calls porilj 
viands. I mention this because the word is frequently mii- 
taken : 

" Clou(le>le with a hearyny avrawe 

Clave the waude in two." Old Ballad 

" A hearing arrow," sa) s Strntt, " is an arrow ."hot com- 
pass, i. e. so as liie arrow in its Higlit formed a segment of 
a circle." And so we gel the praise of accuracy! A bearing 
arrow is, in tliree words, a strong and weighty arrow. 

J To my wish .' to my wi.-h ! Now you that plot ayaintt 
me,Sic.i Hi>w much Ijetler does this express the eager tri- 
umph of Overie.icli, than the tame and nnmeirical reatling o 
Coxtter and Mr. M. Mason! Ihey omit, to my uiish-' which 
as Ihey prob.blj coimied the syllables upon their tinjicrt 
appeared to them a grievous redundancy. 



SCENF I.] 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 



stu 



OoiT. Confusion and ruin ! speak, and speak 

quickly, 
Or tliou iirt dead, 
Wilido. I lipy are married. 
Over. Tliou hadst bett<>r 
Have made a contract with tlie king of fiends, 
Than tl ese : — my brain turns ! 

Wilido. Whv this rage tome? 
Is not tills your li-tter, sir, and these the words? 
Miirrii hei' <o this geiilieman 1 
Over. It c innot : 
N'T will 1 e'er believe it, 'sdeath ! I will not; 
TIrjt I, that, in all passao;es I touch'd 
At worldly profit, have not left a print 
W'liere I have trod for the most curions search 
To trace my footsteps, ^5hould be gull'd hy children, 
Jiaflled and fool'd, and all my hopes and labours 
Defeated and made void. 

Wel(. As it appears, 
You are so, my f,rave uncle. 

Over. Village nurses 
Reveiifre their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste 
A syllable, but thus 1 take the life 
Which, wretched, I gave to ihee. 

I Attempts to hill Margaret. 

Lou. [comivg foru'ar<i.'\ Hold, for your own sake ! 

Though charity to your daughter hath quite left 

you, 
Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here, 
Can leave no liope for peace or rest hereafter ? 
Consider ; at the best you are but a man. 
And cannot so create your aims, but that 
They may be cross'd. 

Oier. Lord ! thus I spit at thee, 
And at thy counsel; and again desire thee*, 
And as thou art a soldier, if thy valour 
Dares show itself, where multitude and example 
Lt-ad not the way, let's quit the house, and change 
Six words in private. 
Lot;. 1 am ready. 
L. All. Stay, sir, 
Contest with one distracted ! 

Well. You'll grow like him, 
Should you answer his vain challenge. 

Over, Are you pale ■? 
Borrow his help, thongh Hercules call it odds, 
I'll stand against both as I am, hemm'd in thus. — 
Since, like a Lybian lion in the toil, 
Rly furyiannot reatli the coward hunters. 
And only sjvends itself, I'll quit the place: 
Alone I can do nothing, but I have servants 
/ind friends to second me ; and if 1 make not 
'J his house a heap of ashes (by my wrongs, 
What I have spoke I will make good !) or leave 
One throat uncut, — if it be possible, 
Hell, add to my afflictions ! [Eiit. 

Mar. ]s't not brave sport? 

Greedy. Brave sport ! I am sure it has ta'en away 
my stomach ; 
I do not hke the sauce. 

All. \av, wee]> not, dearest, 
'1 hough it express your pity ; what's decreed 
Above we cannot alter. 



• . and again desire thee, 

And a» thou art a soldier, Ut's quit the house, See] 

I sli.i"''' |iot li.ive tlii]iit;lit this called lor an explanation, 
had lint Mr. M. Mason ciiusen to mibuiiderblaiid it, and 
alter llie text : lie rari^.n 



- and aynin defy thtt. 



I L. All. His threats move me 
No scrujile, madam. 

Mar. Was it not a rare trick. 
An it please your worship, to make the deed no- 
thing? 
I can do twenty neater, if you please 
To purchase and grow rich ; for I will bo 
Such a solicitor and steward for you, 
As never worshipful had. 

Well. I do believe thee ; 
But first discover the quaint means you used 
To raze out the conveyance! 

Mur. They are mysteries 
Not to be spiike in public: certain minerals 
Incorporated in the ink and wax. 
Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me 
With hopes ;ind blows ; and that was the inducement 
To this conundrum. If it please your worship 
'i'o call to memory, this mad beast once caused me 
To urge you or to drown or hang yourself; 
I'll do ihe like to him, if you command me. 

Well. You are a rascal ! he that ilares be false 
To a master though unjust, will ne'er be true 
To any other. Look not for reward 
Or favour from me ; I will shun thy sight 
As I would do a basilisk's: thank my pity. 
If thou keep thy ears ; howe'er, I will take order 
Your practice shall be silenced. 

Greedt]. I'll commit him. 
If voii will have me, sir. 

Well. That were to little purpose ; 
His conscience be his prison. Not a word, 
But instantly be gone. 

Old. Take this kick wiih you. 
Amb. And this. 

Film. It tliat I had my cleaver here, 
I would divide your knave's head. 

Mar. 'I his is the haven 
False servants still arrive at. f £«!• 

Re-enter Overreach. 

L. All. Come again ! 
Loll. Fear not, 1 am your guard. 
Well. His looks are ghastly. 
Wilido. Some little time 1 have spent, under yout 
favours, 
In physical studies, and if my judgment err not. 
He's mad beyond recovery : but observe him. 
And look to yourselves. 

Over. Why, is not the whole world 
Included in myself? to what use then 
Are friends and serv.mts ? Say there werea squadron 
Of pikes, lined through with shot, when I am 

mounted 
Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them? 
No: I'll through the battalia, and that routed, 

[F tour iih ill g his suord khealheit 
I'll fall to execution. — Ha ! 1 am feeble: 
Some undone widow sits upon my arm. 
And takes away the use oft; and my sword. 
Glued to my scabbard with wroiig'd orphans' tears, 
Will not be drawn. Ha! what are these? sure, 

hangmen. 
That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me 
Before the judgment-seat : now they are new shapes 
And do ap])eiir like furies, with steel whips 
To scourge my ulcerous soul. Shall 1 then fall 
Inglonously, and yie.d ? no; spile of faie 
1 will be forced to hell like to myself. 



S76 



A NEW WAV lO PAY OLD DKIHS. 



[iirr v. 



Though you were lep;ions of accursed spirits, 
Thus would I fly ainon^ you. [Rushes forvjard. 

Well. 'I'liere's no help; 
Disarm liim first, then bind liim. 

Greedii. 'I'ake a mittimus, 
And Ciirrv him to Bedhmi. 

Lnv. How he foams ! 

Well. And bites the earth ! 

Wiltdo. Carry him to some dark room, 
There try what art can do for his recovery. 

Marg. O my dear father ! 

[The\i JWce Overreach njf*. 

Alt. You must be patient, mistress. 

Lov. flere is a precedent to teach wicked men. 
That wlien they leave religion, and turn atheists. 
Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take 

comfort, 
] will endeavour you shall be his guardians 
In his distractions: and for your land, master 

Wellborn. 
Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire 
lietween you, and this, the undoubted heir 
Of sir Giles Overreach ; for me, here's the anchor 
That I must fix on. 

All. What you shall determine. 
My lord, I will allow of. 

Well. 'Tis the language 
'J'hat I speak loo ; but there is something else 
Beside the repossession of my land, 
And payment of my debts, that I must practise. 
I liad a reputation, but 'twas lost 
In my loose course ; and until I redeem it 
Some noble way, I am but half made up. 
It is a time of action ; if your lordship 
Will please to confer a company upon me 
In your coniinaiid, 1 doubt not, in my service 
To my king, and country, but I shall do something 
That mav make me right again. 

Lot). Your suit is granted, 
And you loved for tlie motion. 

Well. Nothing wants then 
Bui your allowance [To the Spectators. 

EPILOGUE. 

But your allowanci — and in that our all 
Is comprehended ; it being known, nor we. 
Nor he that wrote the comedy, ran be free 
Without your manumission ; which if you 
Grant willingly, as a fair favour due 

• As this is ihe last appearance of Sir Giles, it may not be 
amiss lo advert to the catastrophe of his rial history. "Sir 
Giles Moiii.pesson was summoned to appear before the House 
of Coinnums to Ihe cliarges made against him ; by the Hou^e 
he was conimilled to the custody of the Serjeant at arms, 
from wliose charge, by stratagem, or connivance, he escaped. 
On the ad of March, 10'20, a proclamation was issued for his 
apprehension (Rymer's /Vdpra, Tom. *vii., V!5i). He ef- 
fected hU (light over sea, and this piocl.imaiion was followed 
by anoiher on the 30th of tlie same month, expelling and 
banishing him the king's dominions, he being degraded of 
the order of knighthood (Fcedera, Tom. xvii., 2S9)." 

Gilchrist. 

AVith respect to his associate and abettor. Sir Francis 
Michel (Justice Greedy), he also was degraded, then fined a 
thousand pound, carried on horseback through the principal 
streets, with bis face to the tail, and imprisoned for life. 



To the poet's, anil our labours, (as you may), 
P'or we despair not, gentlemen, of the plav : 
We jointly shall profess your grace hath iniglit 
lo teach us iiction, and hini bow to write*. 



• We find tliat the players in Massinger's age did " noi 
despair" i^f Ihe siic ess of this Comedy: and Hie coiiiinii- 
ancc of the public favour has jiistitied thiir ronlidiiice in 
its meiit. Indeed it possesses many qualilicatioiis for the 
stage. The piiiujpal event, though snlijcct to an (ibjection 
which will be presently noticed, is conceived uiili much 
n(.V(lly and hiiinour. During its progress many eiiteriaininw 
iiuiilc Ills arise, and a strong ami lively picture is presented 
of (lomes'ic manners. Its Uselul tendency is also as promi- 
nent as the amusement which it confessedly brings. No 
Play of Ma»sini;er is marked with more vaiieiy of serious- 
ness of moral; from Wellborn we learn, that he who 
sriuanders his siitistance on the unworthy, shall be rewarderl 
with ingratitude and insult; and tliHt the return of wtallb 
brings hut lilile satlsLiclion unless it be accompanied with 
a returning sense . f honour: — ironi the associates of Over- 
reach, that vicious friiiidhips are but treacheries, fdse in 
their prim iple, even while tliry last, and spurned .dike by 
virtue, both while they la-t, and when they f.iil :— and from 
Oveirtarh hiinself, liiat there is a secret hand «hith coiin- 
ter.icts Injiislice, infaluates subtlety, and turns the arts of 
.sellishness into folly and ruin. His madness is jiidirial; and 
iVla'singer hold.s hiin out to the world, 

" a piece/lent to teach wicked men 

That when tliex leave religion, and turn atheists, 

Tlieir own aliilities \rn\v thini. " 

This character is drawn with geat force; and as Hie story 
proceeds. Overreach lakes olace of Wellborn in tlie atlcniioii 
of the reader. He is divided between av.iiice and vanitv ; 
avarice which grows troin his nature as its proper I'luit ; 
and vanity which is yralted upon the success of hrs avariie. 
In this part we meet wiih strong marks of a disposition 
basely aspiring. He betrays his vulgar joy on account of 
the expected ^dliance, to those from \ilioui prnijinri: and 
delicacy would eiinally conceal il: and lie glor i s in the 
prospect even of I is own liumili.ilion in the presence of hi.t 
ilaui;hter, and looks with salistaction to the inomeni when 
his very prerogatives as a father shall be kepi in .iwe by 
her superior rank, 

The other characters extend their influence lieyonil them- 
selves. The mild dignity of lord Lovell ami lady All- 
worth agreeably relieves the liaishncss of Overreach; and a 
similar ertcct is pnduced by the atlraitive innoieme and 
simplicity of Margaret and her lover. But here an ob-erva 
tion niu-t be made, of a less favourable nature ; by a prac- 
tice too common with Massinger, the better ch.uacters 
forget Iheir delicacy, and are degraded. Lovell might 
secretly promote Ihe views of Allworlh : but while lie dots 
this, lieoiighi notio treat with Overreach on his own account. 
Laily Allworlh is equally faulty, and Ijer nnespecud and 
whimsical adoption of Wellborn ill agrees eilhrr with her 
retirement, her principles, or her express reprobation of his 
character. The two lovers also lose their simpti.iiy; and 
when the father is to be deceived, they siiddeniy iiecome 
crafty beyond their years, their nature, and knowledge of ihe 
world. But all this was well known to iMassin;;er ; and he 
has provided certain acknowledgments for it. Lovell and 
the lady call each other to account tor the apparent strange- 
ness of their proceedings, and are mutnally cseiised by the 
motives on which they act; and tiie spleen of Massinger 
s^ems to have been so strong against Overre.ich, that he 
thought a depirtiire from chaiacter not unpardonable, pro- 
vided he could have the satisfaction of showing him out- 
witted by " two weak innocents," and " gulled by children." 
The editor has produced sutTicient proof that a real person 
was aimed at in Overreach. The circumstance ju-it men- 
tioned is one of the many internal marks of such a design. 
The reprehension is vehement and incessant ; and consis- 
tency is disregarded, while ignominy or ridicule is heaped 
upon Ihe obnoxious person. This secret purpose seems to 
have been the real occasion of the severity which marks some 
of Ihe isceues : they are more passionate than playful; and 
have rather the properties of direct and urgent satire, than the 
gportiveness and vfrsatility of comic wit. Dr. Ireland. 



THE CITY MADAM. 



The City Madam.] This " Comedy," of which it is not easy to speak in appropriate terms of praise 
was licensed by Sir Henry Herbert, May 23tii, 1632, and acted by the king's con)pany, 

" The plot, the business, the conduct, and the language of the piece," as the Companion to the Playhouse 
justly observes, "are all admirable;" yet 1 do not know that it was ever revived till the year 1771, "when 
the late Mr. Love made some changes in it. and procured it to be acted at Richmond. 

i\Ir. Waldron, of the Theatre Ko^al Drury Lane, is in possession of a very old alteiation of this Play, 
in wliich, as usual, not only the titles, but the names of the dramatis personee are changed. I have looked 
through it, but can find nothing to commend : it is called The Cure of Pride. 'I'his oentlemau informs me 
that iMr. Love, who was the manager of the Richmond Theatre, played the part of Luke with great success, 
and that he afterwards prevailed on ]Mr. Garrick to bring the play foiwaid at Drury Lane. 

A short time since it was reproduced with considerable alterations by Sir J. B. Burges, under the name of 
The Ulje and Brother, and acted for a few nights at the Lyceum. But the drift of the original was totally 
misaken, and the failure was, of course, coniplete. 

The Citii Madam was received, as the ([uarto says, with great applause ; it was, however, kept in the 
players' hands till 1659*, when it was given to the press by Andrew rennycuicke, one of the actors. 



TO THE TRULY NOBLE AND VIRTUOUS 

LADY ANN COUNTESS OF OXFORDt. 

HONOURED LADY, 

IN that age when wit and learning were not conquered by injury and violence, this poem was the object 
of love and commendations, it being composed by an infallible pen, and censured by an unerring auditory. 
In this epistle J shall not need to make im apolof;y for plays in general, by exhibiting their antiiiuity and 
utility: in a word, they are mirrors or glasses which none but defoimed faces and fouler consciences fear 
to loiik into. The encouragement I had to ]irefer this dedication to your powerful jirotection proceeds from 
the universal fame of the deceased author, who (although he composed many) wrote npne amiss, and this 
may justly be ranked anions his best. 1 have redeemed it from the teeth of Cime, by committing of it to 
the press, but more in imploring )our palronuge. 1 will not slander it with my praises ; it is commendation 
enougii to call it Massingeii's ; if it may gain your allowance and pardon, 1 am highly gratified, and desir« 
only to wear the happy title of. 

Madam, 

Your most humble servant, 

ANDREW PENiWCUICKE. 



DRAMATIS PERSOX.'E. 
Lord Lacy. 

Sir Johv Frucal^, a merchant. 
Sir .Maurice LacvJ, son to lord Lacy. 
Mn. Plenty, a countr if gentleman. 
Luke Frugal, frrot/ier tosir John. 

GoLDwiRE senior, \ ^ ^, 

•V ■ ! two eentlemen. 

1 radi-.wei.l senior, ) * 

GoLowiRE junior, j their sons, apprentices to 

'JRADiwELL junior, i .John Frugal. 

SrARiJAZE, (in astrologer. 

Hovsr, a decayed gentleman. 

FouiuxE, 1 , , , 

J, _ L decayed merchants. 

Holdfast, steward to sir John Frusral. 



RaMRLE, 1 . , . 

r. ( luo hectors. 

tecun- 1 E, I 

DiNo'i ji, a pimp. 

Gettall^. (I lio.i-keeper. 

Page, SiieriJ^', Manihal, Serjeanit. 

Lady Frugal. 

», ' ' j her daucrhters. 
Mary, ( => 



Milliscent, her woman. 
Shave'em, a courtezan. 
Secret, a bawd. 

Orpheus, Charon. Cerberus, Chorus, Musicians, Par 
ters, Sercants. 

SCEN'E, London. 



• This istliedate of all the copies wliicli I liave seen, with the excepiioii of one, that lately fell into my hands: this has the 
year 1038 on llie tille-p.ige. It was pr l)ablv thrown i.tt in 1058-.'. 

t Dauylner ..f Paul ViMoiint Dinning, aild uiic- <.| \iiliie> de Vere Earl of Oxford. 

t In til.- old Via otdianiaiis pirtuuie these two ihaiaclers art- named Sir Jolin Ricli and Sir John Lacy, wtwilhstanding 
the luniitr is called Sir John Friiyul in every part of tlie pla>, and the latter Sir Maurice Lacy, in the only two places in 
which his christian name is meiiiione'l. 

5 tiettall, a box keiyer.] Or, a^ we say now, yioo7n-porler to a gambling house. This important character I am lold never 
plays, but is seated in a bux or elevatetl chair. " whence he declares the slate of the game, the odds, and the success of the 
parties." 



W8 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Act I 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — A Room in Sir John Frugal's House. 

Enter Golvw jnr. junior, and TnADEWELi.jrMwior. 

Ootd. The ship is safe in the Pool then ? 
Trade- And makes good, 
In her rich fraught, the name she bears, The Speed- 
welt: 
My master will find it ; for, on my certain know- 

Jetlge, 
For every hundred that he ventured in her 
She hath returned iiim five. 

Go/d. And it comes timely ; 
For, besides a payment on the nail for a manor 
Late purchased by my master, his young daughters 
Are ripe for marriage. 

Trade. Who? Nan and Mall'! 
Gold. Mistress Anne and Mary, and with some 
addition. 
Or 'tis more punishable in our house 
Than scandalum magnatum. 

Trade. 'Tis yreat pity 
Such a gentleman as my master (for that title 
His being a citizen cannot take from him) 
Hath 1)0 male heir to inherit his estate. 
And ket'p his name alive. 
Gold. TLe want of one, 
Swells my young mistresses, and th^ir madam- 
mother, 
With hopes above their birth, and scale: their 

dreams aie 
Of being made countesses, and they take state 
As they were such already. When you went 
To the Indies, there was some shape and jjrnportion 
Of a merchant's house in our family ; but since 
Rly master, to gain precedency for my mistiess 
Above some elder merchants' wives, was knighted, 
'Tis grown a little court in bravery. 
Variety of fashions, and those rich ones : 
Tlicre are few great ladies i;oing to a mask 
1 hat do outshine ours in their every-<hiy habits. 

Trade, "lis strange, my master in his wisdom can 
Give the reins to such exorbitance. 

Grid. He miist. 
Or there's no peace nor rest for him at home ; 
I grant his state will bear it ; y«Jt he's censured 
For his indulgence, ami, for Sir .lohn i'rugal 
By some styled Sir. lohn Prodigal. 

Trade. Is his brother. 
Master Luke Frugal, living? 

Gold. Yes ; the more 
His misery, poor man ! 

Trade. Still in the Counter? 
Gold. In a worse jilace. He was redeem'd from 
the hole. 
To live, in our house, in hell* ; since his base usage 

• • Jfe was redeem'd from the liole. 

To live, in our hovse, in hull ;] This passage alludes to a 
pastime calhd Hailij-br.ike. W. Mason. 

t ever did so strange a conceit enter nioital head. What 
U (here in the miserable situation of Luke thai could pos- 
sibly pnt Coldwire, or rather Mr. M. Ma.ion, in mind of a 
jpa»tiine? The Ao/e wa« one of ilie wretched departmen's 
of a gaol, in which prisoners, who conl I not afloid to pay 
for betler acconimodalions, \>eie obliged to take nji tlieir 
residen. e. It is fre(|iiently inentiomd by onr old writer.i. 
Thus W ilkins: Can it "accoid with the stale ol gentry to 
tubinit myself from the feather-bed in the master's side, or 



Consider'd. 'tis no better. My proud lady 
Admits him to her table, marry, ever 
Beneath the salt*, and there he sits the subject 
Of her contempt and S'-orn ; and, dinner ended, 
His courteous nieces find employment for him 
Kitting an under-prentice, or a fuotnian, 
An<i not an uncle. 

Trade. 1 wonder, being a scholar 
Well read and travell'd, the world yielding means 
For men of such desert, lie should endure if. 

Gold, He does, with a strange pJitience; andtous. 
The servants, so familiar nay humble! 

Enter Stapcaze, Ladti Fhugal, Anne, Mary, and 

JMii.i.iscENT, in several postures with looking glasses 

at their girdles. 
I'll tell you — but I am cut off. Look these 
Like a citizen's wife and daughters? 

Trade. Ill their habits 
'1 hey appear other thini;s : but what are the motives 
Of this strange ])re])arati()n ? 

Gold. '1 he young wag;ails 
Expect their suiturs : the first, the son and heir 
Of the Lord Lacy, who nreds my master'.? money, 
As his (laughter dues his honour ; the second, Mr 

Plenty, 
A rough-hewn gentleman, and newly come 
To a great estate ; and so all aids of art 
In them's excusable. 

L. Fru/;. You have done your parts here 
To your study, and be curious in the search 
Of the nativities. [Exit Stargaze. 

Trade. Metliiiiks the mother. 



the flock-bed in the knight's waid, to the straw-bed in the 
hole/" Misrriis of hi j meed Muiriiiye. 

Hell was a spol jet nioie wieiclied llian the Ao/e; 
" Kor ill the lowest dceii, a lower deep 
Still Ihreaten'd to devour." 
It was a e.int name for the darkest p.irt of the hole, or for 
an obscure dungeon in some of our prisons, for whicli the 
former appellation appeared loo favourable a term, 'ihus in 
'1 he Comtlerrat, 10.08: 

" In W'.od-street's hole, or Poultry's hell." 
And to this sense of the vv-iil GoMwiie alludes. The 
Counter, from the £o/£olv\hich 'LuUewaaredeemtd, stood in 
Wood-street. 

• — marry, ever 

Beneath the s.di,] Thus Carivvright : 

" \\ here yon are best esteein'd. 

You only pas« niider the favonralile name 
^f humble cousins that sit beneath the salt." 

Love's Convert. 
Mas'in^er generally opens )iis plots with great ingenuity; 
but here he is particularly happy. We arc ul once admitted 
into the int< nor of the nn rchant's family , and piepared lor 
the conduit of the dilteieiit branches of It, b. fore they 
appear, by a di.ih'gue as na'ural as it is eaaj ai d imfi.rced. 

t with looking-glasses at their girdles.) It ap- 
pears from iiiiinmerable passages in our oM w tin is, ih t it 
was customary, not only f i r ladies, but for gci.lltnien, to 
carry miirors about them. The former, we see, wore them 
at their girdles. Ihus J .nson : 

" 1 confess all, 1 replied. 
And the ylai.1 honys by her side, 
And the girdle 'bout her vvai-t. 
All is Venus, save unchas'e." I'ndrrtroods, 

The latter. 1 hope, like the tine gentlemen of the present 
day, kept them in thiir pi ckels :— and yii there are In- 
stances of their displa\iiig them as ostentatiously as the 
vainest of the fair sex. 'I'l us Jonson again : 

"Where is jour page? call for jour casting bol'le and 
place your mirror in your hut, as 1 told jou." Viintnia't 
lieveis. 



Scene I.l 



THP: CITV MADAM. 



W9 



As if she could renew her vouth, in care, 
Nay curiosity*, to nppear lovelv, 
Comes not behind her daugliters. 

GM. Keeps the first pbice ; 
And though the church-book speak her fifty, they 
That say slie can write tliirty, moreoft'ead her 
Than if they taxM her honesty : t'other day 
A tenant of hers, instructed in her humour. 
But one slie never saw, being brought before her, 
For saving only. Good tioiinf; mistn'ss, help me 
To the speech of your lufl it -mother, so far pleased her, 
That lie got iiis lease renew'd for't. 

Trade. How she bristles! 
Prithee, observe her. 

Mill. As 1 hope to see 
A country knight's son and heir walk bare before you 
When you are a countess, as you may be one 
When my master dies, or leaves trading; and I, 

continuing 
Your principal woman, take the upper hand 
Of a squire's wife, though a justice, as I must 
By the })lace you give me ; you look now as young 
As when you were married. 

L. Fn/g. I think 1 bear my years well. 

Mill. Why should you talk of years? Time hath 
not plougli'd 
One furrow in your face ; and were you not known 
The mother of my youngf ladies, you might pass 
For a virgin of fii'teeu. 

Trade. Here's no gross flattery ! 
Will she swallow this? 

Gold. You see she does, and glibly. 

Milt. You never can be old ; wear but a mask 
Forty years hence, and you will still seem young 
In your other parts. \\'hat a waist is here? O 

Venus ! 
That 1 had been born a king ! and here a hand 
To be kiss'd ever; — pardon my boldness, madam. 
Then, for a leg and foot you will be courted 
When a great grandmother. 

L. Fitig, 'Ihese, indeed, wench, are not 
So subject to decayings as the face ; 
Their comeline>;s lusts longer. 

Mill. Ever, evor\ 
8uch a rare-featured and jiroportion'd madam 
London could never boast of. 

L. Fnig, Where are mv shoes? 

Mill, 'i hose that your ladyship gave order 
Should be made of the Spanish perfumed skins? 

/.. Friig. 'I"he same. 

Mill. 1 sent the prison-bird this morning for them, 
But he ni gleets his duty. 

Anne. He is grown 
Exceeding careless. 

Miiri/. And begins to murmur 
At our commands, and sometimes grumbles to U3, 
He is, forsooth, our uncle ! 

* Nay curiosity, to appear lovely.] Curiosity liere, as in 
many oilier pHSSHi;cs of llic-se pl.iys, sigiiilics scnipuluus 
Utenlion, niixiery, &.C. 

t T/ie tiiiilher of my young lariirs.] So tlic old copy; the 
modern I'liinis, iinoini.i.^sioii to ilie anlhors irreyularities, 
have rcfuniied lils lexl, and primed. The mother of these 
ladies: in the preceding line too, they have intei posed tlieir 
aid, and removed ihe c^pnlitive ! SerioM>ly, these imperii- 
nent deviations cannot t)e too strongly reprobate I. Mas- 
ainger's e^r was so evqni.-it'dy tonched, that I caild almost 
ventnie to allirni he never made use of his ten lingers in the 
construciion of a sinUe verse ; ami his biingling editors, 
therefori-, who try liis poetry by such coarse mechanism, 
will more frequently injure his sense, than improve hi» 
metr«. 



L. Frug. He is your slave, 
And as such use him. 

Anne. Willingly ; but he is grown 
Pebellious, madam. 

Gold, Nay, like hen, like chicken. 

L. Frug. I'll humble him. 

Enter Luke, with ihoes, garters, fans, androses. 

Gold. Here he comes, s» eating all over : 
He shows like a walking frippery*. 

L. Frn!(. Very good, sir: 
Were you drunk last night, that you could rise no 

sooner 
With humble diligence, to do what my daughter* 
And woman did command >ou ? 

Luke. I*)runk ! au't |)l5ase you ? 

L. Frug. IJrunk, I said, sirrah! dar'stthou inalook 
Repine or grumble ? thou unthankful wretih. 
Did our charity redeem thee out of prison 
( I'hy patrimony spent), ragged and lousy, 
VVhen the sheriff's basket, and his broken nr.eatt ' 
Were your festival-eiceedings ! and is this 
So soon forijotten ? 

Luke. I confess I am 
Your creature, madam. 

L. Frug. And good reason why 
You should continue so. 

Anne. Who did new clothe you ? 

Mart/. Admitted you to the dining-room 1 

Mill. Allow'd you 
A fresh bed in the garret ? 

L. Frug. Or from whom 
Received you spending money ? 

Luke. 1 owe all this 
To your goodness, iDa:iam ; for it j'Oii have my prayers, 
'i he beggar's satisfaction : all my studies 
(Forgetting what 1 was, but with all duty 
Remembering what } am) are how to please you. 
And if in my long stay 1 have ofi'endetl, 
1 ask your pardon ; though you may consider, 
Being forced to fetch these from the Old E.vchange, 
These from the Tower, and these from Westminster, 
1 could not come much sooner. 

. Gold. Here was a walk 
To breathe a footman ! 

Anne. 'Tis a curious fan. 

Mary. These roses will show rare: would 'twere 
in fashion 
That the garters might be seen too ! 

Mill. Many ladies [yo*i i 

That know they have good legs, wish the same with 
Men that way have the advantage. 

• He shows, like a walkiny frippery.] A/rippery is nn old 
clothes shop ; Ihe word is pure French, but occurs in most 
of our ancient dramatists: 

•' If 1 carry any lady of the laundry, 

Chainberin)( or wantonness behind my gelding, 
With all her streamers, knapsacks, glasses, gewgaws. 
As if I were a running frippery, 

I'll give lliem leave," &c. If'it u-i'.huut Money. 

The roses mentioned among the articles brought by Luke, 
were not the flowers of that name, hut knots of rib.mds to 
be ti.xed on the shoes: it appears from 'dd paintings, ;ind, 
indeed, from the descripii!>ii of them in vaiioiis authors, 
lliat Ihey were of a preposterous si/.e. Thus Jonsoiw 
" .Service ! 'fore |iell, my heart was at iny nionih. 
Till I had view'd his shoes well, for these rosis 
Were bill enough to hide a clov» n foot " IJevH'snn As*. 
t ll'hen the sheriffs basket, &r.] '; The pooler soil of 
prisoners," says Slowe, " as well in lids Counter, as in that 
in UoiKlstreet, receive daily relief fioin the sheriff s table 
of all the broken bread and meal." B. 111. p. 51. 

For festival-exceed inys,ii:e The Picture. Act. V. Sc. 1. 



580 



TMI-: CITY MADAM. 



[Act. I. 



Lnke. 1 was witli 
Tlie l.ulv, and ilplivered her the satin 
For her "owri, and velvet for her petticoat; 
This niglit slie vows she'll pay you. 

[^Aside to Goldwire. 

Colli. How I am bouiiil 
To vour favoiii", master Luke ! 

Mill. As I live, you will 
Perriuiie all rooms voii walk in. 

L. P\iin. ijet your fur*, 
You shall |iull them on within. [Exit Luke. 

Gold. That servile office 
Her pride im)) ses on him. 

Sir .loliu [within], (ioldwire ! Tradewell ! 

Trade. J\ly master calls. We come, sir;. 

[Exeunt Goldwire and Tradewell. 

Enter Holdfast, tvilh Posters. 
L. Frag. What have you brought there ? 
Hi'Id. The cream o' the market; 
Provision enough to serve a garrison. 
I weep to think on't : when my master <jot 
His wealth, his family fed on roots and livers, 

And necUs of beef on Sundays. 

But now I fear it will he spent in poultry ; 
Butcher's-meat will net go down. 
L. Frag. Why, you rascal, is it 
At your expense? what cooks have you provided? 
Hold. The best of the city: they've wrought at 

my lord mayor's. 
Anne. Fie on them! they smell of Fleet-lane, and 

Pie-corner, 
Mary. And think the happiness of man's life 
consists 
In a mighty shoulder of mutton. 

L. Frag. I'll have none 
Shall touch what 1 shall eat, you grumbling cur, 
But Frenchmen and Italians ; they wear satin. 
And dish no meat but in silver. 

Hold. You may want, though, 
A dish or two when the service ends. 

L. Frag. Leave [)rating; 
I'll have my will : do you as I command you. 

[Exeunt 
t — ♦_ 

SCENE II.— The Street before Frugal's H„use. 
Enter Sir Maurice Lacy and Page. 

Sir Maur. You were with Plenty ? 

Page. Yes, sir. 

Sir Manr. And what answer 
Rciurn'd the clown ? 

Page. Clown, sir! he is transform'd, 
And grown a gallant of the last editionf ; 
More rich than gaudy in his habit ; yet 
The freedom and the bluntness of his language 
Continues with him. When I told him that 
You gave him caution, as he loved tiie peace 
And s.ifety of his life, he should forbear 
To psss the merchant's threshold, untd you 
Of his two daughters had made choice of her 
Whom you design'd to honour as your wife. 
He smiled in scorn. 

Sir Maur. I n scorn ! 

• L. Frn;;. Oel your fur.) To put under lier feft while lie 
tried on lier shoes. M. Mason. 

t And ijrnwii a t/allanf of tlie I:ist edition ;■] i. e. of llie 
newist t'l.sliion. It was the .ipplitatiun of this common 
phrase to IJdvvanl.s (who nii.sundeisloud il) winch provoked 
Uial geutleinan so hiijiily against VV arburton. 



Pagt>. His words confirm 'd it ; 
They were ivv; , but to this purpose : Tell your mat 

' ter. 
Though his lordship in reversion were noiuhio, 
It catinot ave me. I wa% horn a freeman, 
And will not yield, in the way of affection. 
Precedence to him : I unll visit them. 
Though he Sate porier to deny my entrance: 
When J meet him next, Ell say more to his fate. 
Deliver thou tliis : then gave me a piece, 
To help my memory, and so we parted. 

Sir Maur. Where got he this spirit ? 

Page. At the academy of valour, 
Newly erected for the institution 
Of elder brothers : where they are taught the W.W3, 
'i'hough tiiey refuse to seal for a duellist, 
How to decline a challenge. He himself 
Can best resolve you. 

Enter Plenty and three Servants. 

Sir Maur. You, sir ! 

Plenty. What with me, sir? 
How big you look ! I will not loose a hat 
To a hair's breadth : move your beaver, I'll move 

mine ; 
Or if you desire to prove your sword, mine hangs 
As near my right hand, and will as soon out, though 

1 keep not 
A fencer to breathe me. Walk into Moorfields— 
I dare look on your Toledo. Do not show 
A foolish valour in the streets, to make 
Work for shopkeepers and their clubs,* 'tis scurTy, 
And the women will laugh at us. 

Sir Mrtif. You [)resume 
On t!)e protection of your hinds. 

Plenty. I scorn it : 
Though I keep men, I fight not with their fingers. 
Nor make it mv religion to follow 
The gallant's fashion, to have my family 
Consisting in a footman and a page, 
-And those two sometimes hungry. I can feed these, 
And clothe them too, my gay sir. 

Sir Maur. What a fine man 
Hath vour tailor made you ! 

Plenty. ' lis quite contrary, 
I have made my t;iilor, for my clothes ape paid for 
As soon as put on ; a sin your man of title 
Is seldom guilty of; but Heaven forgive it ! 
I have other faults, too, very incident 
To a plain gentleman : I eat my venison 
With my neighbours in the country, and present not 
My pheasants, partridges, and grouse to the usurer; 
Nor ever yet paid brokage to his scrivener. 
I fltuter not mv mercer's wife nor feast her 
With the first cherries, or peascods, to prepare me 
Credit with her husband, when I come to London. 
The wool of my sheep, or a score or two of fat oxen 
In Smithfield, give me money for mv expenses. 
I can make my wife a jointure of such , nul.-i too 
As are not encumbei'd ; no annuity 
Or statute lying on then?. This I can do, 
.An it please your future honour, and why, ther*. 

fore, 
You should forbid my being sujtor with you, 
My dullness apprehends not. 

Page. This is bitter. 

• fl'nrk for shopkeepers and their clubs.] See 71« 
lieneyadu, Act 1. So. 111. 



BcEN-K n.j 



THE CITY MADAM. 



381 



Sir ilaiir. I have heard you, sir, and in my pa- 
tience aliown 
Too mucli of tlie stoic. But to parley further, 
Or answer vour s;ross jeers, would write me coward. 
This only. — thy great grandfatlier was a butclier*. 
And his son a grazier; thy sire, constable 
Of the liun.ired, and tliou the first of your dunghill 
Created gentleman. Now you may come on, sir, 
You and vour thrashers. 

Ple"tti Stir not, on your lives. 
This fori he grazier, — this for the butcher. [r/ie]/_^5/if. 

Sir Munr. So, sir! 

Page. I'll not stand idle. Draw! My little rapier 
Against your bumb blades ! I'll one by one dis- 
patch you. 
Then hou^e this instrument of death and horror. 

Enter Sir John Frugal, Lukf, Goldwire junior, 
and Trad ew u ll j u n ior. 

Sir J''hn. Beat down their weapons. My gate 
ruffians' hall ! 

Whiit insolence is this ? 

Luke. Noble Sir Maurice, 
WorshipTul master Plenty — 

Sir Jolin. I blush for you. 
Men of your quality expose vour fame 
To every v\ilgar censure ; this at midnight, 
After a druidien supper in a tavern 
(No civil man abroad to censure it)*, 
Had sliown poor in you ; but in the day, and view 
Of all tliat pass by, monstrous! 

P It'll It). Very well, sir ; 
You. lodk'd for this defence. 

Sir Mdiir. 'lis thy protection ; 
But it will deceive thee. 

Sir John. Hold, if you proceed thus, 
I must n);ike use of the next justice' power. 
And leave persuasion : and in j)lain terms tell you, 

Enter Lady Fuugal, Anne, Mary, and Mil- 

MSCENT. 

Neither your birth, Sir Maurice, nor your wealth, 

Shall ])rivilege this riot. See wiiom 3'ou have drawn 

To be spectators of it ! can you imayine 

Jt can stand vvith the credit of mv daughters, 

To be the aigutnent of your swords? i' the street 

loo ? 
Nay, ere vou do salute, or I give way 
'I'o any private conference, shake har-ds 
In sign of jieace : he that draws buck, par's with 
My good opinion. [^They shake hatids.] This is as it 

should be. 
Make your approaches, and if their affection 
Can sympailiize with yours, they shall not come, 
On my credit, beggars to you. I wdl hear 
What V'lu reply within. 

Sir ]\Iintr. May 1 have the honour 
To support you, lady ? [To Anne. 

Plenty. I know not what's su))porting. 
But by this fair hand, glove and all, I love vou. 

[To Mary. 
[Exeunt all but Luke. 

• This only, — thy tjreat grandfalhrr tvas a butdier, &c.] 
MasEiii;;tr did iint intend Lacy for a fool, and yet his riply 
to tlie 1 iL;li spirited and cliaracterislic speecli of Ids com- 
petitor liavi'ur- sliongly of faluily. It must be confessed 
tliat llie joiini; gentleman is warm, yet he slionld not, lor 
that, have ailopied the language and sentiments of a tish- 
woman. 

t All I i\ il man abroad.] No citizen, or perhaps, no man 
iiivtaled uiili civil auihoriiy. 



Enter Hoyst, Penuhy, and Fortune. 

Luke. You are come with all advantage. 1 will 
help you 
To the speech of my brother. , 

For. Have you moved him for us? 
Luke. With the best of my endeavours, ana 
liope 
You'll find him tradable. 

Pen. Heaven grant he prove so ! 
Hoyst. Howe'er, I'll speak my mind 

Enter Lord Lacy. 

Luke. Do so, master Hoyst. 
Go in : I'll pay my dutv to this lord, 
And then 1 am wholly your-. 

[Exeunt Hiyst, Penury, and Fortune, 
Heaven bless your honour! 

L. Lacy. Your hand, master Luke: the world's 
much changed with you 
Within these few months ; then you were the 

gallant : 
No meeting at the horse-race, cocking, hunting, 
Shooting, or bowling, at which master l.uke 
Was not a principal gamester, and companion 
For the nobility. 

Luke. 1 have paid dear 
For those follies, my good lord : and 'tis but justice 
That such as soar above ;heir pitch, and will not 
Be warn'd by mv example, should, like me, 
Share in the misf r es that wait upon it. 
Your honour, in your charity, niav do well 
Not to upbraid me with those we^iknesses 
Too late repenteil. 

L. Lacy. 1 nor do, nor will ; 
And you shall find I'll leiid a helping hand 
To raise your fortunes; how deals your brother 
with you? 

Luke. Beyond my merit, I thank his goodnesa 
for't. 
I am a freeman, all my debts discharged. 
Nor does one creditor, undone by me. 
Curse my loose riots. 1 have meat and clo'hes, 
Time to ask Heiven remission for \\ hat's j)ast ; 
Carrs of the world by me are laid aside, 
i\Iy present poverty's a blessing to me ; 
And though i have been long, I dare not say 
I ever lived (ill now. 

L. Lucy. You bear it well ; 
Yet as you wish 1 should receive for truth 
What you deliver, with that truth acquaint me 
With vour brother's inclination. 1 have lieard, 
In the acquisition of his wealth, he weighs not 
Wliose ruins he l^uilds upon. 

Luke. In that, report 
Wrongs him, my lord. He is a citizen. 
And would increase his heap, and will not lose 
What the law gives liim : such as are worldly wise 
Pursue that track, or they will ne'er wear scarlet*. 
But if your honour please to know his temper, 
Y'ou are come opportunely. I can bring you 
Where you, unseen, shall see and hear his carriage 
Towards some poor men, whose making, or un- 
doing. 
Depends upon his pleasnref. 

* — or thiy will ni-'er wear scailet.l i. e. 

never rise to city honours. Onr old writers have iimnmer- 
able allnsions to the scarlet gowns 01 the mayors and alder- 
men of London, 

+ The <'hl copy has a marginal direction liere, to srt out a 
tablf, count book, standisli, chair and stool. Notliing can 
more fully demouslrale the poverty of our ancient lheatfes_, 



389 



THE CITY MAD\M. 



iAcrl 



L. I.IICU- I O inv wish : 
I know no object tliat could more content me. 

[ Exeunt. 

— ♦ 

SCENR III. — A Count iig-ronm in riuf^".>rs House. 

Enter Sir .^ OH >i Fuugai.. IIoyst, Koiiiunk, Penuhy, 
anil Li fi\.li\v\UK junior. 

Sir John. What would you liave me do? reach rae 
a cliair. 
When 1 lent mv ninnies 1 appear'tl an anpjel ; 
But now I would ch!1 in mine own, a devd. 

Hou. \\ ere vou the devil's dam, jou must stav 
till 1 have it, 
For as 1 am a genileman ■ 

Reenter I.uke, Ih'.lnnd, xvilh Lord Lacy. 

Lnhe. There V')U mav lie;irall. 

Hofi. 1 p.iwn'd you my land for the tenth part of 
the value : 
Now, 'cause I am a p;amester, and keep ordinaries, 
And a liverv jnuik or so, and trade not with 
The monev-mongers' wives, not one will be bound 

for me : 
'Tis a liard case ; you must give me longer day, 
Or I sliidl grow very angrv. 

Sir John. Fret, and spate not. 
I know no oblig-ntion lies ujjon me 
With my honey lo I'e.-d drones. But to the purpose. 
How mu(h owes Penury? 

Gold, '{"wo hundred pounds : 
His bond three times since forfeited. 

Sir Jolni. Is it sued? 

Colli. Ves, sir, and execution out against him. 

Sir .lihn. Fur i)()ily and goods? 

Gold. For both, >ir. 

Sir John. See it served. 

Pen. 1 am undone ; n.v wife and family 
Must starve for want ot' bread. 

Sir John. More infidel thou, 
In not ]irov dinij: lietterro suj)port them. 
What's Fortune's debt ? 

Gold. A thousan I, sir. 

Sir John. An estate 
For a good man ! ^ ou were the glorious trader. 
Embraced all bargains ; the main venturer 
In every ship that lannch'd forth; kept your wife 
As a lady ; hhe had her caroch. her choice 
Of suinmer-hou>;es, built with other men's monies 
Ta'eu up at intere^t ; the certain road 
To Ludgate in a citizen'. Pray von nccpiaint me, 
How wi re my thousand pounds employ d ? 

For. Insult not 
On my calamity ; though, being a debtor. 
And a slave to him that lends, 1 must endure it. 
Yet hear me speak thus much in my defence ; 
Losses at sea, and those, sir, great and many, 
Bv storms and tempests, not domestical riots 

than tliise hints to the piopirtj-lnan. Of whul we now 
call sc-nery, there is not the .-lls;hIe^t indication in any of 
these (lirtMi.is; «hat Wis the sireil l>et.re tlie nieicli.infs 
house. IS conveiteil, by simply thiii.Mni'; forward a table, 
into a toMiitnii;-ri...iu: Uike and lorTLaiy go out, the 
others t.keiheir places, and then the lorincr t«o reenter 
behind them. 

; tJti^ certain mad 

To Liidnate in a u'ltizen] 'ihis prison was anciently 
appiopnaled to the Ir.cM ,n ..f the cily, and lo cleifij men : 
it IS, says I he ( ompnnioa for U,.l,lors fa h ,„k of Massiii- 
jer's age), the be-l piifuu abonl London, both in regard lo 
lis cndowiiient ai.d goveinmeiit. 



In soothing my wife's humour, or mine own, 
Have brought me to this low ebb. 

Sir John. Suppose this true, 
What is't to me ? I must and will have my money. 
Or I'll protest von first, and, that done, have 
The statute made for bankrupts served upon vou. 

For. 'Tis in your power, but not in mine to 
shun it. 

Luke. [rom/>'i forward.] Not as a brother, si:-, but 
with such duty. 
As I should use unto my father, since 
Your charity is my parent, give me leave 
To speak niv thoiiglits. 

Sir John What would you say ? 

Lnhe. No woid, sir, 
I hope, shall give offence ; nor let it relish 
Of flattery, though I proclaim aloud, 
1 glory ill the br.ivery of your" mind, 
'I'o which your wealth's a servant. Not that riches 
Is or should be contemn'd, it being a blessing 
Derived from heaven, and by your industry 
Pull'd down upon you ; but in this, dear sir. 
You have many e(|u:ils : such a man's possessions 
Extend as far as yours : a second hath 
Mis bags as full ; a third in credit fli^s 
As high in the popular voice: but the distinction 
And noble difference by which you are 
Uivideil from them, is. that you are stylod 
Gentle in your abundance, good in plenty ; 
And that you feel compassion in your bowels 
Of others' miseries, (I have found it, sir, 
Heaven keep me thankful for't !) while they are 

C'irs'd 
As rigid and inexorable. 

Sir John. I delight not 
To hear this spoke to iny face. 

Lnke. That sli:dl not grieve you. 
Your affabilifv, and mildness, clothed 
In the oavments of your [thankful] debtors' 

breath*. 
Shall everywhere, though you s'rive to conceal it, 
He seen and wonder'd at, ami in the act 
With a prodigal hand reward. -d. Whereas, such 
As are born only for themselves, and live so. 
Though jiiosperotis in worldly understandings. 
Are but like beasts of rapine, that, by odds 
Of strength, usurp, and tyrannize o'er others 
Brought under their subjection. 

L. Lofi/. A rare fellow ! 
I am strangely taken with him. 

Luke. Can you think, sir, 
In your un(|uestion'd wisdom, I beseech you, 
The goods of this poor man sold at an oiitcvyt. 
His wife turn'd out of doors, his children l',,rced 
'I'o beg thoir bread, this gentleman's estaie, 
J5y wrong extorted, can advantage you ? 



• Jn the yarments of your fthankful,] debtor's Inrnlh] A 
foot is wauling in the fciiiner editions. I do n<.l Mailer my- 
self that ilie ijinnine word was lliat «hicli is In re enclosed 
between brackets, lhou};li it was not impiobaby .--oiiievvhal 
similar to it. 

+ The yoods of thru poor man sold at an ontcry.) i. e. at a 
public ani'tioii. .So Jimsoii : 

" Their houses and line gardens given away. 
And all Iheir goods, under the spear, at outcry." 

Cataline 
Again, 

" Ay, that was when the nursery's self was lioble. 

And only \iilue made it, not tlie m.oket, 

That titles were not vented at the drtim, 

Or cuiiiinon outcry." The Npvi Inn 



Scene I.] 



THE CrrY MADAM. 



383 



Hutf. ir it tlirive with iiim, liaugf nie, as it will 
dHinn liini, 
If lie be not converted. 

Lille. Vou are too violent. — 
Or tli.it the ruin of tliis once brave mercbant, 
For such he was esieeni'd, tliouf;!) now decuy'd, 
Will raise your reputation iviili gnod men ? 
But you may ursv (pray vou pardon nie, my zeal 
Makes me thus bold and vebemftif ), in tins 
You satisfy vour anger, and revenge 
For lieing defeated. Suppose this, it will not 
Repair your loss, and tliere was never yet 
Cut shame and scandal in a victory 
When tile rebels unto reason, |)ass)ons, fought it. 
Then for revenoe, by great souls it was ever 
Contemn'd, though oft'ered ; enlertain'd by none 
But cowards, base and abject !>|)irits, strangers 
To moral honesty, and never yet 
Acquainted wiih religion. 

L. Lacy, Our divines 
Cannot t^peak more effectually. 

Sir John. Shall 1 be 
Talk'd out of my money? 

I^iike. So, sir, but entreated 
To do yourself a benefit, and preserve 
What vou possess entire. 

Sir John. How, my good brother? 

Luke. Jiy making these jour beadsmen*. 
When they eat. 
Their thanks, next heaven, will be paid to your 

mercy ; 
When your ships are at sea, their prayers will swell 
The sails with prosperous winds, and guard them 

from 
Tempests and pirates ; keep your warehouses 
FiK)m fire, or quench them with their tears — 

Sir John. No more. 

Luke. Write ycu a good man in tlie people's hearts; 
Follow you everywiiere. 

Sir Jiihn. If this could be — 

Luke. It must, or our devotions are but words. 
I see a gentle promise in your eve, 
Make it a blessed act, and pool me rich, 
In being the instrument. 

Sir John. You shall prevail ; 
Give them longer day : but do you hear, no talk oft. 
Should this arrive at twelve on the Lxchange, 
I shall be laugh'd at for my foolish pity, 
Which money -men hate deadly. 'J'ake your own time 
But see you break not. Carry them to the cellar ; 
Drink a health, and thank your orator. 

Pen. On our knees, sir. 

For, Honest master Luke! 

ifdi/. 1 ble>^s tiie Counter, where 
You learn'd this rhetoric. 



Luke. No inorfi of that, friends. 

\_Eiei')n Luke, Hnusi, Fortune, and Penury, 
l.orii Litcu comes forward. 
Sir John My honoi rablo lord. 
L, luci). 1 havf seen and heard all. 
Excuse my manners, and wisli heailily 
You were all of a piece. Your charity to yotu 

debtors 
I do commend ; but where you should express 
Your piety to the hei';lit, 1 must boldly teil you 
You show yourself an atheist. 

SirJ(hn. Make me know 
My error, and for what I am thus censured. 
And I will purge myself, or else confess 
A guilty cause. 

L. Loci/. It is your harsh demeanour 
To your poor brother. 
Sir John. Is liiat all ? 
L. Lacij. 'I'is more 
Than can admit defence. You keep him as 
A parasite to your table, subject to 
The scorn of your proud wife ; an underling 
'l"o his own nieces: and can I with mine honour 
Mix my hliod with his, i'latis not sensible 
Of his brother's miseries? 

Sir John. J'lay you, take me with you ; 
And let me yield my reasons why I am 
No opener-haniled to him. 7 was born 
His elder hrolln-r, yet my father's fominess 
'I'd him, the younger, robb'd me of my birthright : 
He had a fair estate, which his loose riots 
Soon brought to nothing ; wants grew heavy on 

him. 
And when laid up for debt, of all forsaken. 
And in his own hopes lost, 1 did redeem him. 
L. Loci). ^ ou could ni)t do less. 
Sir John. Was I hound to it, my lord? 
What 1 possess 1 may with justice call 
The harvest of inv industry. Would you have me, 
Neglecting mine own family, to give up 
My estate to his disposure ? 

L. Lacy, 1 would have you. 
What's pass'd forgot, to use him as a brother; 
A brother of fair jiarts, of a clear soul, 
Religious, good, and honest. 

Sir John. Outward gloss 
Often deceives, may it not prove so in him ! 
And vet my long accjuaiiitance with his nature 
Renders mje doulitftil ; hut that shall not make 
A breach between us : let us in to dinner, 
And what trust, or employment you think fit, 
Shall be conferr'd upon him : if he prove 
'J'rue gold in the touch, I'll be no mourner for it. 
L. Lacy. If counteifeit, I'll never trust my 
judgment. [Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE L—A Room in Frugal's House. 

Enter Luke, Holdfast, Goi-dwike junior, and 
'\'iiADh.\viii.L junior. 

Hold. The like was never seen. 
Luke. Why in this rage, man 

• Lake. By makiny these your beadsmen. 1 Bfadsmm is 
pure S.JX01I, hikI iirmiis piMytisiiieii; i. «■. siicli as aie 
engage'!, iu consequence of l^ast or present favours. 



Hold. Men may talk of country-christmassea 
and court-gluttony. 

Their thirty-pound butter'd eggs, their pies of 
carps'-iongues, 

'I'heir plieasants drench'd with ambergris, the car- 
cases 

to pray for tlieir benefactors. The name was fiprmcrly 
given witli great pro|)riii) to tlie inliabiirfins ijl alni»-liou«e», 
in general, lo (lie objects of our public chaiilits. 



.^34. 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Acrll. 



Of tliree fat wethers bruised for gravy, to 

iM:ike sauce for a single peacock ; yet their feasts 

Were fusts, compared with the city's. 

Trade. Wljat dear dainty 
Was it thou niurmur'st at? 

Hold. Did you not observe it? 
There were three sucking pigs served up in a dish, 
Ta'en from the sow as soon as farrowed, 
A fortnight fed v/ith dates, and muskadine, 
That stood my master in twenty marks apiece, 
Besides the puddings in their bellies, made 
Of I know not what. — I dare swear the cook that 

dress'd it 
Was the devil, disguised like a Dutchman. 

Gold. \el all this 
Will not make you fat, fellow Holdfast. 

Hold. 1 <im rather 
Starved to look on't. But here's the mischief — 

though 
The dishes were raised one upon another. 
As woodmongers do billets, for the first, 
The seiond, and third course, and most of the shops 
Of the best confectioners in London ransack'd 
To furnish out a banquet* ; yet my lady 
Call'd me penurious rascal, and cried out, 
There was nothing worth the eating. 

Gold. You must have patience. 
This is not done oft-en. 

Hold. 'Tis not fit it should ; 
Three such dinners more would break an alderman. 
And make him give up his cloak : I am resolved 
To have no hand in't. I'll make up my accompts. 
And since my master longs to be undone. 
The great fiend be his steward ; I will pray. 
And bless myself from him ! [Eitt. 

Gold. The wretch shows in tnis 
An honest care. 

Luhe. Out on him ! with the fortune 
Of a slave he has the mind of one. However 
She bears me hard, I like my lady's humour, 
And my biotlier's suffrage to it. They are now 
Busy on all hands ; one side eager for 
Lai-^e ])ortions, the other arguing strictly 
For jointures and security ; but this 
lieiii'^ above our scale, no way concerns us. 
How (lull you look I in the mean time, how intend 

you 
To s|)eiid the hours? 

Gold. We well know hnw we would, 
But d;ire not serve our wills. 

Trade. Being prentices. 
We are bound to attendance. 



* most of (he shops 

Of the best confictionvrs in London ransack'd 
'I'o furnhh out a banquet;) A banquet was what we now 
call a dtssert ; it was coDipustd of IViiit, sweetmeats, &c. : 

" • your citizen 

Is a most tierce dcvonrer, sir, of plums ; 
Six will destroy as many as might make 
A hiuiqiiet for an army." The Wita. 

Tlie banquit was usually plateil in a separate room, to 
wliici) llie gnests removed as soon as they had dined: thus, 
ill '1 he Unnatural Combat, Beaufort says: 

" \Vf II dine in the great room, but let the music 
Anil hanqiiel be prepared here." 
The i-oiriiiii.ii place ot b.iiiqueting, or of eating the des'crt, 
amoij'; our ancestors, was ilie gaiden hoii-e, or arbour, with 
whiili .ilmosl every dwelling was once furnished : to this 
Sli;ill..w alluil.s in a siMi|il.' passage, which has had a great 
deal oi impel tineiit matter wrilteii to ciMHouiid it: 

Mhiili. " N.iy.you shall see mi::e orchard, where, in an 
arbiiur, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own grathii", 
with a dish of carraways," (a small kind of i omfii) " and To 
fcrth." JJenry IV. Part U. 



Luhe. Have you almost served out 
'I'he term of your indentures, yet make conscience 
By starts to use your liberty ? Hast thou traded 

[7"o TradewelU 
Tn the other world*, exposed unto all dangers. 
To make thy master rich, yet dar'st not take 
Some portion of the profit for tliv pleasure? 
Or wilt thou [To Goldw ], being keeper of the cash, 
Like an ass that carries daintie<, feed on thistles? 
Are you gentlemen born, yet have no gallant 

tincture 
Of gentry in yon ? vou are no mechanics, 
Nor serve some needy shopkeeper, who surveys 
His every-day takings : you have in your keeping 
A mass of wealth, from which vou may lake boldly. 
And no way be discover'd. He's no rich man 
That knows all he possesses, and leaves nothing 
For his servants to make prey of. I blush for you. 
Blush at your poverty of spirit ; you, 
The brave sparks of the city ! 

Gold, blaster Luke, 
I wonder you should urge this, having felt 
What misery follows riot. 

Trade. And the penance 
You endur'd for't in the Counter. 

Luke. You are fools, 
']'he case is not the same ; I spent mine own money, 
And my stock being small, no marvel 'twas soon 

wasted ; 
But you, without the least doubt or suspicion. 
If cautelotis, may make bold with your master's. 
As, for example, when his ships come home. 
And you take your receipts, as 'tis the fashion. 
For fifty bales of silk vou may write forty ; 
Or for so many pieces of cloih ol bodkin. 
Tissue, gold, silver, velvets, satins, taffetas, 
A piece of each deducted from the gross, 
Will ne'er be miss'd, a dash of a ])en will do it. 
Trade. Ay, but our father's bonds, that lie in 
pawn 
For our honesties, must pay for't. 

Luke. A mere bugbear. 
Invented to fright children ! As I live, 
Were 1 the master of my brother's fortunes, 
I should glory in such servants. Didst thou know 
What ravishing lechery it is to enter 
An ordinary, cap-a-pie, triinm'd like a gallant. 
For which in trunks conceal'd be ever fuinish'd ; 
The reveience, respect, the crouche,-;, cringes, 
The musical chime of gold in your cranim'd pockets, 
Cortimands from the attendants, and poor porters — • 
Trade. O rare ! 

Luke. Then sitting at the table with 
The braveries of tlie kingdom, you shall hear 
Occurrents from all corners of tlie world, 
The plots, the counsels, the designs of princes, 
And freely censure them ; the city wits 
Cried up, or decried, as their passions lead them ; 
Judgment having nought to do there. 
Trade. Admirable ! 

Luke. My lord no sooner shall rise out of hi 
chair, 
The gaming lord I mean, but you nv.iy boldly. 
By the privilege of a gamester, fill his room, 
For in play you are all fellows: have your knife 
As soon in the pheasant ; drink your health as freely. 



• /n,/A>' other world.] i. e. the East Iudie5,from whcoc* 
ab the hist scene inlorms us, Tradewell was just retu^red. 



SCXNE II.J 



THE CITY MADAM. 



3R5 



And Btrikinp: in a lucky hand or two. 
Buy out your time. 

Trade. This may be ; but suppose 
We slioulil be known ? 

Luke. Have money and good clothes, 
And you mav pass invisible. Or, if 
You love a madam-puiik, and your wide nostril 
Be taken with the scent of cambric smocks, 
Wrought and perfumed 

Gold. There, there, master Luke, 
There lies my road of happiuess! 

Luke. Enjov it. 
And )/leasures stolen being sweetest, apprehend 
The raptures of being hurried in a coach 
To Brentford, Staines, or Barnet. 

Gold. 'Tis enchanting ; 
I have proved it. 

Ltihe. Hast tiiou ? 

Gold. Ves. in all these places 
I have had my several pagans billeted 
For my own tooth, and after ten-pound suppers, 
The curtains drawn, my fiddlers plavins? all night 
The shaking of the sheets, which I have danced 
Again and again with my cockatrice : — master 

Luke. 
You shall be of my counsel, and we two sworn 

brothers ; 
And therefore I'll be open. I am out now 
Six hnndred in the cash ■ yet, if on a sudden 
I should be call'd to account, I have a trick 
How to evade it, and make up the sum. 

Trade. Is't possible ? 

Luke. You can instruct your tutor. 
How, iiow, good Tom ? 

Gold. Why, look you. We cash-keepers 
Hold correspondence, supply one another 
On all occasions : I can borrow for a week 
Two hundred pounds of one, as much of a second, 
A third lavs down the rest; and, when they want, 
As my master's monies come in I do repay it : 
hii me, ka thee* ! 

Luke. An excellent knot ! 'tis pity 
It e'er should be unloosed ; for me it shall not. 
You are shown the way, friend Tradewell, you may 

make use on't. 
Or freeze in the warehouse and keep company 
With the cater t, Holdfast. 

Trade. No, 1 am converted. 
A IVarbican broker will furnish me with outside, 
And thtr-n, a crash at the ordinary ! 



* Ka me, l.a thee!] This I believe, is a Scottish proverb, 
and riieMiis, inciulue, or serve me, and I'll serve thee in my 
tinn. It is not uncommon in our old dramas. Thus in Ram 
Alley: 

" Ka me, ka thee, one thing must rub another." 
Agnin, in Eastward floe: 

" Tlimi art pander to me, for my wench : and I to thee for 
thy couzenage. Ka me, ka thee, ruus through court aud^ 
coimtry." 

t // ith the cater. Holdfast.] i. e. the purveyor. This 
word was in very general use in Massinger's time: (hough 
the editors of some of our old dramatists do not seem to be 
aware of it. Thus Joiison : 

" He is my wardrobe man, my cater cook, 
Builer, and steward." Devil's an Ass. 

Here Mr. Whalley reads, with sufficient harshniss, 

" He is my wardrobe-man, m'acater cook," &c. 
And Fletcher: 

" See, sweet, I'm cook myself, and mine own cater." 

H'ome7i pleased. 
Here the editors propose to read caterer, which lhe> say is 
the more probable word! I suppose — because it spoils the 
metre. 



Gold. I am for 
The lady you saw this morning, who, indeed, is 
My proper recreation. 

Luke. Go to, Tom ; 
What did you make me ? 

Gold. I'll do as much for you, 
Employ me when von please. 

Luke. If you are enquired for, 
I will e.Kcuse you both. 

Trade, Kind master Luke ! 

Gold. We'll break my master, to make you. You 
know 

Luke. I cannot love money. Go, boys ! when 
time serves. 
It shall appear I have another end in't. [Exeunt. 



SCENE n. 

Another Room in the same. 

Enter Sir John Fiiugal, Lord Lacv. Sir Maurice 
Lacy, Plenty, Lady Frugal, Anne, MAitv, and 

MlLI.ISCENT. 

Sir John. Ten thousand pounds a piece I'll make 
their portions. 
And alter my decease it shall be double, 
Provided you assure them for their jointures 
Eight hundred pounds per annum, and entail 
A thousand more upon the heirs* male 
Begotten on their bodies. 

L. Lacy. Sir, you bind us 
To very strict conditions. 

Plenty. You, my lord. 
May do as you please : but to me it se.ems strange 
We should conclude of portions, and of jointures. 
Before our hearts are settled. 

L. Friig, You say right : 
There are counsels of more moment and importance 
On the making up of marriages, to be 
Consider'd duly, than the portion or the jointures, 
In which a mother's care must be exacted ; 
And I by special privilege may challenge 
A casting voice. 

L. Lacy. How's this ? 

L. Frng. Even so, my lord ; 
In these affairs I govern. 

L. Lacy. Give you way to't ? 

Sir John. I must, my lord. 

L, Frug. 'Tis fit he should, and shall : 
You may consult of something else, this province 
Is wholly mine. 

Sir Maur. By the city custom, madam? 

L. Frug. Yes, my young sir ; and both must 
look my daughters 
Will hold it by my copy. 

Flentif. Brave, i'faith ! 

Sir John. Give her leave to talk, we have the 
power to do ; 
And now touching the business we last talk'd of. 
In private, if you please. 

L. Lacy, 'lis well remember'd: 
You shall take your own way, madam. 

[Exeunt Lord Lacy and Str John Frugal. 

Sir Maur. What strange lecture 
Will she read unto us '.' 



* A thousand more upon the heirs male.] Heirs mu.st be 
pronounced (as they say) as a dissyllable, thoui;h 1 do uoC 
profess to know how ii can be done. 



386 



THE CITY MADAM. 



FAcT 11. 



L. Fnig, Such as wisdom warrants 
From tlie superior bodies. Is Stargaze ready 
Willi liis several scliemes ? 

MUL Yes, madam, and attends 
Your pleasure. 

Sir Maur. Startjaze ! lady : what is he ? 

L. [•'rug. Call him in.— [E.r;< MUliscent] — You 
sliall first know him, then admire him 
For a niiiii of many parts, and tliose parts rare ones. 
He's every thing;, indeed ; parcel jihysician. 
And as such prescribes my diet, and I'oretels 
Rly <lreams when I eat potatoes ; jiarcel poet, 
And sings encomiums to my virtues sweetly ; 
My antecedent, or my gmlleman- usher, 
Aiid as the stars move, with thai due proportion 
He walks before me : but an absolute master 
In the calculation of nativities ; 
Guiiled by that ne'er erring science, call'd 
Judicial a>trology. 

I'leutu. Stargaze! sure 
1 have a penny almanack about me 
Inscribed to you, as to his patroness, 
In his name publish'd. 

L. Fnig. Keep it as a jewel. 
Some statesmen that I will not name are wliolly 
Govern 'd bv his predictions; for they serve 
For any latitude in Christendom, 
As well as our own climate. 

Re-enter Milvisckst, foUnwed by Stargaze, with tiso 
schemes. 

Sir Maur. I believe so. 

J'leiitq. Must we couple by the almanack 1 

L. Friig. Be silent ; 
And ere we do articulate, much more 
Grow to a full conclusion, instruct us 
Wlie.her this day and hour, by the planets, promise 
Happy tiuccess in marriage. 

Star. Ill omni 
Puite, et Mo. 

Vleiitij. Good learn'd sir, in Kn^lisb ; 
And since it is resolved we must bo coxcombs, 
AJake us so in our own language. 

Star. You are pleasant : 
Thus in our vulgar tongue ihen : — 

L. Fvug. Fray you observe him. 

Stiir. Venus, in the west angle, ihe house of mar- 
riage the seve.ith house, in trine of Mars, in con- 
junction of Luna; and Mars almuthen, or lord of 
the horoscope. 

Plenty. Hey-day ! 

L. Frug. 'Ihe angels' language! I am ravish'd : 
forward. 

Star. Mars, as I said, lord of the horoscope, or 
geniture, in mutual reception of each oiher ; she in 
her exaltation, and he in his triplicate trine, and 
fate, assure a fortunate combination to Hymen, ex- 
cellent, prosperous, and haj)py. 

L. Frug. Kneel, and give thanks 

[^riie Women kneel. 

Sir Maur. For what we understand not? 

J'Uiily. And have as little failh in ? 

L. Frug. Be incredulous* ; 
To me 'tis oracle. 

Star. Now for the sovereignty of my future la- 
dies, your daughters, after they are married. 

• L. Frug. J5« tree red iilo lis ;] Tliis is the rea<ling of Mr. 
M. MaMin. The oht copy has fie cicdulnns, meaning, per- 
liaps, tiiilow my example, and believe ; and so may be right ; 
llwu£h incredulous is better adapted to the measure. 



Fteiiiu. Wearing the breeches, you meaiil 

L. Frug. Touch that point home : 
It is a princijial one, and, with London ladies, 
Of main coiisideraiioii. 

Star. This is infallible : Saturn out of all dignities 
in his lietriinHMt and fall, combust : and Venus in 
the south angle elevated above him, lady of both 
their nativities, in her essential and accidental digni- 
ties ; occidental i'rom the sun, oriental fioni the angle 
of the east, in c;i/.ini of the sun, in her joy, and free 
from the nialevoli'Mt beams of infortunes ; in a sign 
' commanding, and Mars in a constellation obeying ; 
she fortunate, and he dejected : the disposers of 
marriage in the radix of the native in feminine 
figures, argue, foretel, and declare rule, pre-emi- 
nence, and absolute sovereignty in women*. 

L. Frug. Is't possible! 

Star, 'lis drawn, I assure you, from the apho- 
risms of the old Chahleans, Zoroastes the first and 
greatest magician, Mercurius, Tnsinegi>tus, the 
later Ptolemy, and tlie everlasting prognosticator, 
old En a Paler. 

L. Frug. Are you yet satisfied? 

Pleutii. In what ? 

L. Frug. That you 
Are bound to obey your wives : it being so 
Determined by the stars, against whose influence 
There is no opposition. 

Plenty. Since 1 must 
Be married bv the almanack, as I may be, 
'Twere requisite the services and duties 
Whitli, as you say, I must pay to my wife. 
Were set down in the calendar. 

Sir Maur. With the date 
Of mv ajiprenticeship. 

L. Frug. Make your demands ; 
I'll sit as inoderatiix, if they press you 
With over-hard conditions. 

Sir Main: Mine hath the van: 
I stand your charge, sweet. 

Star. Silence. 

Anne I require, first. 
And that sitice 'tis in fasiiion with kind husbands. 
In civil manners you must grant, my will 
In all things whatsoever, and that will 
To be oheyVl, not argued. 

L. Frug. And good leason. 

Plentu A gentle )m;)rim(S.' 

Sir Maur. I'his in gross contains all: 
But vour special items, lady. 

Anne. W hen 1 am one. 
And you are hoiiour'd lo be styled my husband, 
To urge my having my page, my gentleman-usher. 
My woman sworn lo my secrets, my caroch 
Drawn by six Flanders mares, my coachman 

grooms. 
Postillion, and footmen. 

iS7r Maur. Is there aught else 
To be demanded ] 

Anne. Yes, sir. mine own doctor, 
French an i Italian cooks, musicians, songsters. 
And a clia|)laiii that must preach to please my fancy ; 
A friend at court to j.lace me at a mask ; 
The private box ta'eii up at a new play, 



• I have ronlenled myself with correcting the errors of 
the former editors in piiiiting the obsolete jargon of this 
ignor.iiil impostor, willi.aii attempting to explain any part«f 
il. If tlie reader will lollow my example, and not waste 
lhuu<;ht ou it, he will lose nothing by his negligence* 



Scene 1 f.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



SST 



For me nnd my retinue ; a fresh Iiabif, 

Of a fashion never seen before, to draw 

The gallants' eyes, tliat sit on tlie stage, upon me j 

Some decayed lady for my parasite. 

To flatter me, and rail at other madams; 

And ihere ends my ambition. 

Sir Maiir. Your desires 
Are modest, I confess ! 

Anne. These toys siibscrib'd to, 
And you continuing an obedient husband, 
Upon all fit occasions you shall find me 
A most indulgent wife. 

L. Friig. You have said ; give place, 
And hear your younger sister. 

Phil 1 1). If she speak 
Her lajiguage, may the great fiend*, booted and 

spurr'd. 
With a scythe at his girdle, as the Scotchman says, 
Ride headlong down her throat! 

Sir Maiir. Curse not the judge 
Before you hear the sentence. 

AJori/. In some part 
My sister hath spoke well for the city pleasures, 
But I am fpr the country's ; and must say, 
Under correction, in her demands 
She was too modest. 

Sir Muur. How like you this exordium ? 

Pleiitii- Too modest, with a mischief! 

Mary. Yes, too modest : 
I know my value, and prize it to the worth, 
My youth, my beauty 

Pietiiy. flow your glass deceives you ! 

Mary. The greatness of the portion I bring with 
me. 
And the sea of happiness that from me flows to you. 

Sir Muur. She bears up close. 

Mary. And can you, in your wisdom, 
Or rustical simplicity, imaj^ine 
You have met some innocent country girl, that 

never 
Look'd further than her father's farm, nor knew 

more 
Than the price of corn in the market ; or at what 

rate 
Beef went a stone? that would survey your dairy. 
And bring in mutton out of cheese and butter? 
That could give directions at what time of the moon 
To cut her cocks for capons against Christmas, 
Or when to raise up goslings ? 

Plenty. These are arts 
Would not misbecome you, though you should put 

in 
Obedience and duty. 

Mari/. Yes, and patience. 
To sit like a fool at home, and eye your thrashers ; 
Then make provision for your slavering hounds, 
When you come drunk Irom an alehouse, after 

hunting 
With your clowns and comrades, as if all were 

yours. 
You the lord paramount, and I the drudge! 
The ruse, sir, must be otherwise. 
Plenty. How, I beseech you? 
Mary. Marry, thus : 1 will not, like ray sister, 
challenge 

• tnaj/ the (/rent fiend, &c.] This is one of 

Ray's Proverbs. It is found in 7'he Tamer Tamed : " A 
Sedgify tinse litlil on liiiii! which is, I'cdro, Tin- litnd ride 
tliroiij;!! hiiii booted ami spurr'd, vMlli a silhe at liis b.ick." 
Aud also ia The Cobliiu, by Sir Joliii Suckling;. 



What's useful or supeifiuous from my husband. 
That's base all o'er ; mine shall receive from me 
What 1 think fit; I'll have the state convey 'd 
Into my hands, and lie put to his pension. 
Which the wise viragos of our climate practise ; — 
I will receive your rents ; — 

Plenty. You shall be hang'd first. 

Mary. Make sale or purchase : nay I'll have m 
neighbours 
Instructed, when a passenger shall ask. 
Whose house is this ? (though you stand by) to 

answer. 
The lady Plenty's. Or who owns this manor? 
The lady Plenty. Whose sheep are these, whose 

oxen ? 
The lady Plenty's. 

Plenty. A plentiful pox upon you ! 

Marv. And, when 1 have children, if it be en- 
quired 
By a stranger, whose they are ? — they shall still 

echo, 
My lady Plenty's, the husband never thought ou 

Plenlii. In their begetting : I think so. 

Mary. Since you'll marry 
In the city for our wealth, in justice, we 
Must have the country's sovereignty. 

Plentq. And we nothing. 

Mart). A nagof forty shillings, a couple of spaniels, 
With a sparliawk, is sufficient, and these, too, 
As you shall behave yourself, during my pleasure, 
I will not greatly stand on. 1 have said, sir. 
Now if you like me, so*. 

7 have said, sir, 



Now if yoti like me, so.] Before we acrgse tlie poet of 
abusing tbe license of comedy ni these preposterous slipnla- 
tions, it niiiy not be improper to look b.ick for a moment on 
the periud in uliich he wrote, and enquire if no examples 
of a similir n.ilnie were tlien to be funnd in real life. It 
was an ai;e of piofiision and vanity ; and the me. ins of en- 
joyini; tluin both, as they persn.ided to condescen-ion on 
the one siile, so lliey engendered rapa-^ity on the other: it 
is not, thtreiore, a very improbable conjecture, that Mas- 
singer has but sliglitly taxed our credulity, and but little over- 
ch.irged his gl.iring description of lemale extravagance and 
folly ! The reader who is still inclined to hesitate nny per- 
use the extract here subjoiiled. A short time I efore this 
play was wiilten, Elizabeth Spencer, daughter and heir 
of Sir John Spencer, Lord Mayor of London (whom I once 
considered as the prototype of Sir GiUs Overreach), was 
inarrii'd to William Lord Compton. With less integrity 
and candour than the daughters of Sir John Friiual, slie 
made lew previous stipulations, but not lung after ihe con- 
clusion ol the niipiiat ceremony, sent her husband a modest 
and consoldtor> letter, which is yet extant; and from which 
the following items, anvrng many others, are verbaily t.iken: 

"Al.soe, I will have 3 horses for ni\ owne saddle, that 
none shall dare to lend or borrowe ; none lend but I, none 
borrowe but you. Alsoe, 1 would have two gentlewomen, 
leaste one should be sicke, or have some other Ictt. Alsoe 
beleeveyt, it is an undeccnt Ihinge for a gintlewomnn to 
stand mumpinge alone, when God hath blessed Iheir lord »nd 
lady with a greate estate. Alsoe, when 1 rl<le a huii'inge 
or a kawkeinge, or liavayle from one howse to another, I 
will hive them attending';; soe for either of those .said wo- 
men, 1 niust acd will have for either of them a horse, 
Alsoe, 1 will have (j or 8 gentlemen: and I will havt my 
Hvoe coacin 3, one Ijned with velvett to m)self, wth -1 very 
fay re horses, and a coache for my woeinen, lyntd wth 
sweett cloth, one laced wth gold, the other wtn scarUtt, and 
l.iced will watch, d lace aud silver, with 4 good horses. 
Alsoe, I will have t«oe coathmen, one for my "wn roachc, 
the olhtr for my women. Alsoe. alt any lyme when I 
travayle, 1 will be allowed not only carrochis, and spare 
horses for me and my women, but 1 will have smli car- 
ryadgs, as shal be liilinge for all orderly: not pestringe mj 
things with my woeinens. nor theirs wlh eilher clianiber- 
ma)ils, or theirs with wase maids. Alsoe, foi liundresses, 
when 1 travayle I will have Ihcm sent avvay hifuiewlh the 
carryadgs to see all safe, and the chambermajds 1 will liav* 



J8S 



THE CITY MADAM. 



f Am II. 



L. Fnig. At my entreaty, 
TLe articles sh,:ll be easier, 
PUiity. Shall they, i'faith? 
liike bitch, like wlielps. 
Sir Maui: Use fair words, 
PLeiitii. I cannot ; 
I bave read of a house of pride, and now I have 

found one : 
A whirlwind overturn it ! 

Sir Mdui: On these terms, 
Will your minxsiiii) be a lady T 

Plentif. A lady in a morris: 
I'll wed a jiedlar's ])unk first, — 

Sir Maiir. Tinker's trull, 
A beggar witliout a smock. 

Ptenty. Let monsieur almanack, 
Since he is so cunning with his Jacob's staff, 
Find you out a husband in a bowling-alley. 
Sir Maur. The general pimp to a brothel. 
Plentif. Though that now 
All the loose desires of man were raked up in me. 
And no means but thy maidenhead left to quench 
them, 
' I would turn cinders, or the next sow-gelder, 
On my life, should lib me, rather than embrace thee. 
Anne. Wooing do you call this! 
Mary. A bear-baiting riither. 
Plenty. Were you worried, you deserve it, and I 
hope 
I shall live to see it. 

Sir Maur. Til not rail, nor curse you : 
Only this, you are pretty peats, and your great 

portions 
Add much unto your handsomeness ; but as 
You would command your husbands, you are 

beggars, 
1/eform'd and ugly. 
L. Frug. Hear me. 
Plenty. Not a word more. 

[Exeunt Sir Maurice Lacy and Plenty. 
Anne. I ever thought it would come to this. 
Mary. We may 
Lead apes in hell for husbands, if you bind us 
T' articulate thus with our suitors. 

[Both speak weeping. 
Star. Now the cloud breaks. 
And the storm will fall on roe. 
L. Frug. You rascal, juggler ! 

[She breaks Stargaze's head and heats him. 
Star. Dear madam. 

L. Frug. Hold you intelligence with the stars. 
And thus deceive me ! 

Star. My art cannot err ; 
If it does, I'll burn my astrolabe. In mine own 

star 
I did foresee this broken head, and beating ; 
And now your ladyship sees, as I do feel it. 
It could not be avoided. 

goe before wtli the groomes, that a chamber may be ready, 
sweete and clcane. Alsoe, for that yt is undccent to croud 
npp myfelf vvth my gentl. usher in my coache, I will have 
iiiiii to have a coiiveiiyont horse to attend nie eilhtr in citty 
or cmiiitry. And 1 nnist have 2 footemen. And my desire 
is, that you defray all the chardgcs for me."— Ex. Antoa in 
Bibl. Hurl. 

\i may not be impertinent to add, that Lord Compton,as 
might reasonably be lonjecliired, alter such a letter as this, 
reaped linle conifurt from his wife, and less from her im- 
mense fortune. This scene (as mucli of it at least as nlales 
to the two youni; ladies and Iheir lovers) is imitated with 
infinite pleasantry by Glapthorne, in that admirable comedy, 
IVit in a CoiuCable. 



L. Frug. Did you? 

Star. iMadam, 
Have patience but a week, and if you find not 
All my predictions true, touching your daughters. 
And a change of fortune to yourself, a rare one. 
Turn me out of doors. These are not the men tb« 

planets 
Appointed for their husbands ; there will come 
Gallants of another metal. 

Mill. Once more trust him. 

Anne. Murij. Do, lady-mother. 

L. Frug. J am vex'd, look to it ; 
Turn o'er your books; if once again you fool me. 
You shall graze elsewhere ; come, girls. 

Star. 1 am glad I 'scaped thus. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — Another Room in the same. 
Enter Lord Lacy and Sir John Frugal. 

L. Lacy. The jdot shows very likely*. 

Sir Jolm. I repose 
My principal trust in your lordship ; 'twdl prepare 
The physic I intend to minister 
To my wife and daughters. 

L. Lacy. I will do my parts 
To set it off to the life. 

Enter Sir Maurice Lacy, and Plenty. 

Sir John, It may produce 
A scene of no vulgar mirth. Here come the suitors ; 
When we understand how they relish my wife's 

humours. 
The rest is feasible. 

L. I acy. Their looks are cloudy. 

Sir John. How sits the wind! are you ready to 
launch forth 
Into this sea of marriage? 

Plenty. Call it rather 
A whirlpool of afflictions. 

Sir Maur. If you please 
To enjoin me to it, I will undertake 
To find the north passage to the Indies sooner* 
Than plough with your proud heifer. 

Pleiiti/. 1 will make 
A voyage to hell first, — 

Sir John. How sir ! 

Plenty. And court Proserpine 
In the sight of Pluto, his three-headed porter, 
Cerberus, standing by, and all the tiiries 
With iheir whips to scourge me for't, than say, I, 

Jeffrey, 
Take you, Mary,. for my wife. 

L. Lacu. Why what's the matter? 

Sir Maur. The matter is, the mother ( with your 
pardon, 
I cannot hut speak so much) is a most insufi'erable. 
Proud, insolent lady. 

Plenty. And the daughters worse. 
The dam in years had the advantage to be wicked, 
But they were so in her belly. 

* L. Lacy. The plot shows very likely.] It appears from 
this that Sir John had instilled his suspicions of his brother 
into Lord Lacy. It is finely contrived, to confirm them in 
the execution of their design by a new instance of unfeeling 
pride in his f.tmily. 

t Tojindthe north passage to the Indies sooner,] This 
was the grand object of our maritime expedilions in those 
li.'vs, and was prosecuted with a boldness, dexterity, and 
p» 'sever^ince whiih, though since equ.iUed, pet haps, in llie 
same fruitless pursuit, have not yet been surpassed. 



Scene I.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



3&9 



Sir Miiur. I must tell you, 
With reverence to your wealth, I do begin 
To think you of the same leaven. 

FLenly. Take my counsel ; 
Tis safer for your credit to profess 
Yourself a cuckold, and upon record, 
Than say *liev are your daughters. 
■ Sir John. You go too far, sir. 
Sir Maur. They have so articled with us ! 
Plenty. And will not take us 
For their husbands, but their slaves ; and so afore- 
hand 
They do profess they'll use us. 

Sir John. Leave this heat : 
Though they are mine, 1 must tell you, the per- 

verseness • • 

Of their manners (which they did not take from me, 
But from their mother) qualified, they deserve 
Your equals. 

Sir Maur. True ; but what's bred in the bone 
Admits no hope of cure, 

Plenty. 1 hough saints and angels 
Were their physicana. 
Sir John. You conclude too fast. 



Plenty. God be wi' you* ! I'll travel three years, 
but I'll bury 
This sliiime (hut lives upon me. 

Sir Maur. Witii vour license, 
I'll keep him company. 

L. Lucy. \V ho shall furnish you 
For your expenses 't 

Plenty. He shall not need your help, 
My purse is his ; we were rivals, but now friends, 
And we live and die so. 

Sir Maur. Ere we go, I'll pay 
My dury as a son. 

Plenty, And till then leave you. 

[■Eieunt Sir Maurice Lacy and Plenty 

L. Lacy. They are strangely movetl. 

Sir John. What's wealth, accompanied 
With disobedience in a w^ife and children? 
My heart will break. 

L. Lucy. IJe comforted, and hope better: 
We'll ride abroad ; the fresh air and discourse 
May yield us new inveniions. 

Sir John. Vou are noble, 
And shall in all things, as you please, command me. 

lExeunt 



ACT, III. 



SCENE I.— A Boom in Secret's House. 
Unler Shave'em and Secret. 

Secret. Dead doings, daughter. 

Shave. Doings ! sufferings, mother : 
[For poor] men have Ibrgot* what doing is ; 
And such as have to pay for what they do. 
Are impotent, or tunucbs. 

Secret. You have a friend yet. 
And a striker too, I take it. 

Shave. Goldwire is so, and comes 
To me by stealth, and, as he can steal, maintains me 
In clothes, I grant ; but alas ! dame, what's one 

friend ! 
I would have a hundred ; — for every hour and use. 
And change of humour I am in, a fresh one. 
'Tis a flock of slieep that makes a lean wolf fat. 
And not a single himbkin. I am starved. 
Starved in my pleasures ; I know not what a coach 

is. 
To hurry me to the Bursef, or Old Exchange : 
The neat-house for musk-raelons, and the gardens 
Where we traffic for asparagus, are, to me. 
In the other world. 

Secret, 'i'here are other places, lady. 
Where you might find customers. 

Shave. You would have me foot it 



• [For poor] men have fcryot, &c.] A foot is lost in the 
original : I liave substituted the wiTds between brackets iu 
the hope of restoring the sense of the passage. 

t To hurry me to the Burse, 1 To ihe New Exchange, 
which was then full of shops, «heie all kinds of finery for 
the ladies, trinkets, ornaments, &c. , were sold. It was as 
much freqiientid by tlie fashionable world in James's days, 
«l Exeter Change in those ol Charles II. 

28 



To the dancing of the ropes, sit a whole afternoon 

there 
In expectation of nuts and pippins; 
Gape round about me, and yet not find a chapman 
That in courtesy will bid a chop of mutton. 
Or a pint of drum-wine for met. 

Secrf-t. You are so impatient ! 
But I can tell you news will comfort you, 
And the whole sisterhood. 

Shave. What's that? 

Secret. I am told 
Two ambassadors are come over: a French mon* 

sieur. 
And a Venetian, one of the clarissimi, 
A hot-rein'd marmosetf. Their followers. 
For their countries' honour, after a long vacation, 
Will make a full term with us. 

Shave. They indeed are 
Our certain and best customers: — [knoching within.^ 
— Who knocks there? 

Ramh. [within.^ Open the door. 

Secret. What are you? 

• Plenty. God he wi' you '.] For (his valedictory phrase, 
so common in our old writers, the mcdein editors with 
equal elegance aiid judgment have substituted, Good-by to 
you! 

i Or a pint of drum-wine for me.] So the old copy; 
meaning perhaps sutler's wine, or such s<ipliistic.tted stult ai 
is disposed (if at the drum head. Thus Shirley : 

" What we have more than to supply our wants. 
Consumes on the drum head." 

Or it may sisjnify such wine as is to be found at common 
auctions, or outcries, to which the people were, at this time, 
usually summoned by beat of drnm. Coxcceraud M. Ma- 
son read .s^rum-wine ; Dodsley, stum-vitue. 

I A hot reind marmoiet.\ i. e. a monkey, a libidiuou 
animal. .... 



S90 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Act III 



Ramb. [wilhin.] Ramble. 

Scuff, [within.] Scuffle. 

Ramb. [wiihiit.] Your constant visitants. 

Shove. Let them not in ; 
I know them, swaggering,' suburbian roarers, 
Sixpenny truckers. . 

Ramh. [within.] Down go all your windows, 
And vour neighbours' too shall suffer. 

Scuff, [wiifiin.] Force the doors ! 

Secret. They are outlaws, mistress Shave'em, and 

there is ,. r ■» 

No remedy against them. What should you fear I 
They are but men ; lying at your close ward, 
Yoii' have foil'd their betters. 

Shave. Out, you bawd 1 you care not 
Upon what desperate service you employ me, 
Nor with whom, so you have your fee. 

Secret. Sweet lady-bird, 
Sing in a milder key. 

Exit, and Re-enters with Ramblb and Scuffle. 
6Vii/. Are you grown proud? . ^j 

Rumb. I knew you a waistcoateer in the garden 
alleys*. 
And would come to a sailor's whistle. 

.Searei. Good sir Ramble, 
Use her not roughly ; she is very tender. 
Ramb. Rank and rotten, is she not? 

[Shave'em draws her knife. 
Shave. ' Your spittle rogueships f 

[Ramble draws his sword. 
Shall not make me so. 

Secret. As you are a man, squire Scuffle, 
Step in between them : a weapon of that length 
VVas never drawn in my house. 

Shave. Let him come on : 
I'll scour it in your guts, you dog ! 
Ramh. You brache^ ! 



* R.-»nib. / knew r/ou a waistcoateer, &c.] It appears 
from iiiimmerable passages in our old plays, that ivaist- 
coati-er w.\s> a cant term for a strumpet of the lowest kind ; 
piobably given to them from their usually appearing, either 
throiijjii choice or necessity . in a SuCcincl habit. Thus Beau- 
mont and Fletcher; 

" Do you think you are here, sir, 

\mongst your waistcoateers, your base wenches. 
That scratch on such occasions I"— ff-'it without Money. 

''"This is the time of night, and this the haunt. 
In which I use lo catch my waistcoateers: 
I hope they have not left their walk." 

^ •' The Nohle Gentleman. 

♦ Your spittle rogueshipe, Sec] Mr. M. Mason, following 
his usual practice of altermg what he dislikes or misunder- 
rtands, changed spittle into spilal, which he, probably, con- 
cciveil to be an abridiinient of hospital. But our old VTri- 
ters carefully distinguished between these two words; with 
them an hospital or spital always signitied a charitable insti- 
tution for the advantage of poor, infirm, and aged persons, 
an alms house, in short; v/\d\e spittles were mere lazar- 
housis, receptacles for wretches in tiie leprosy, and olher 
loathsome diseases, the consequence of debauchery and 
vice. " Dishonest women," says Barnaby Rich, in his 
Ens/tisk Hue and Crie, "thrive so ill, that if they do not 
inriie bawd, when they be some foure or five and thirty 
yeeres of age, they must either be turned info some hos- 
pitall, or end the rest of their days in a spittle." 

I Kamb. You brache ! 

Are yiu turn'd mankind tl i. e. are you become mas- 
culine? is your nature changed into that of a man ? This is 
the coraraou acceptation of the word, though, as Upton ob- 
serves, it soiiietiiiies bears a stronuer sense, and signifies 
violent, ferociou.s, wicked. It is singular, however, that 
MOt one of Upton's examples justifies his position, or means 
more than masculine, or mannish ; he is, notwithstanding, 
^rrcct in hi» assertion. Thus Chapman : 



Are you turn'd mankiiul ? you forgot 1 gave you. 
When we last join'd issue, twenty pound — 

Shave. O'er night. 
And kick'd it out of mf' in the morning. I was then 
A novice, but I know to make my game now. 
Fetch the constable. 

Enter Gohvv/im junior, disguised like a Justice. cf 
Peace, Ding'em like a Constable, and Musicians like 
Watchmen. 

Secret. Ah me ! here's one unsent for. 
And a justice of peace too, 

Shave. I'll hang you both, you rascals ! 
I can but ride :* — you for the purse you cut 
In Paul's at a sermon ; I have smok'd you, ha ! 
And you fflr the bacon you" took on the highway, 
From the poor marketwoman, as she rode 
From Rumford. 

Ramb. Mistress Shave'em. 

Scuff. Mistress Secret, 
On our knees we beg your pardcsn. 

Ramb, Set a ransome on us. 

Secret. We cannot stand trifling : if you mean to 
save them, 
Shut them out at the back door. 

Shave, First, for punishment. 
They shall leave their cloaks behind them ; and in 

sign 
I am their sovereign, and they my vassals, 
For homage kiss my shoe-sole, rogues, and vanish ! 
[Exeunt Rumble and Scuffle. 

Gold. My brave virago ! The coast's clear 5 
strike up. 

[Goldwire and the rest discover themsetvej. 

Shave. My Goldwire made a justice ! 

Secret. And your scout 
Turn'd constable, and the musicians watchmen ! 

Gold. We come not to fright you, but to make 
you merry : 
A light lavolta.t [They dance. 

Shave. I am tired ; no more. 
This was your device ? 

Ding. Wholly his own? he is 
No pig-sconce, mistress. 

Secret. He has an excellent headpiece. 

Gold. Fie ! no, not 1 ; your jeering gallants say 
We citizens have no wit. 

Ding. He dies that says so : 
This was a masterpiece. 

Gold. A trifling stratagem, 
Not worth the talking of 

Shave, I must kiss thee for it 
Again, and again. 

Ding. Make much of her. Did you know 
What suitors she liad since she saw you 

Gold. I'the way of marriage ? 

Ding. Yes, sir ; for marriage, and the other thing 
too. 



Cor. I will hear thee no more, 1 will take ro compasaioit 
on thee. 

" Page. Good signior Cornelio, be not too mankind 
against your wife ' — AH Fools. 
And Hah : 

•• I ask't phisitians what their counsell was 
For a mad dogge, «r for a mankind asse." 

Brache has been already explaintd. 

• J can but ride.] i. c. 1 know the worst of my punisll. 
mcut ; I CHU but be carted for a strumpet. 

t A light lavolta.J See Great Duke of Florence, 
Act IV. sc. 2. 



Scene TI.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



391 



The commodity is the same. An Irish Jord offer'd 

her 
Five pound a week. 

Secret. And a cashier'd captain, half 
Of his enterlaiiinient. 

Diii^ Anil a new-made courtier, 
The next suit he could beg*. 

Giild. And did my sweet one 
Rerii>e -.ill this for me? 

.S/i<((«, Weep not for joy ; 
'Tis irue. Let others talk of lords and commanders, 
And country heirs for their servants ; but give me 
My <;alliint prentice : lie parts with his money 
So civilly, and demurely, keeps no account 
Of his expenses, and comes ever furnish'd. — 
1 know thou hii5t brought money to make up 
My gown and petticoat, with the appurtenances. 

Gold. I have it here, duck ; thou shall want for 
nothing. 

Shuve. Let the chamber be perfumed ; and get 
jou, sirrah. 
His cap and pantofles ready. 

Giild. There's for thee. 
And thee : that for a banquet. 

Seciei. And^ caudle 
Again you rise. 

Gold. There. 

Shave Usher us up in state. 

Giiid. You will be constant ? 

Shuve. Thou art the whole world to me. 

ILxeimt Gold, aud Shave, embracing, mu$ic 
playing hejore them. 



SCENE IL — A Room in Sir John Frugal's House. 
Enter Luke. 

Anne, [within.] Where is this uncle? 

L. Fnig. [u.i(/ii;i.] Call this beadsman-brother*j 
He hath forgot attendance. 

Mary, [lyit/ii/u] Seek him out ; 
Idleness spoils him. 

Luke. 1 deserve much more 
Than their scorn can lead me with, and 'tis but 

justice 
That 1 should live the family's drudge, design'd 
To all the sordid offices their pride 
Imposes on me; since, if now 1 sat 
A judge in mine own cause, I should conclude 
I am not worth their pity. Such as want 
Discourse, and judgment, and through weakness 

fall, 
May raeiit man's compassion ; but I, 
That knew profuseness of expense the parent 
Of wretched poverty, her fatal daughter. 
To riot out mine own, to live upon 
The alms of others, steering on a rock 
I might have shunn'd ! Oh Heaven ! it is not fit 
1 should look upward, much less hope for mercy.f 



• The next suit he could beg.'\ Omnia cum preliof Jus- 
tice Was extremely venal in lliis age : — but ilie allusion, 
perhaps, is to ihe riyiiig grievance of llie times, monopo- 
lies. A favourite, wim could obtain a grant of these from 
the easy monarch, consi lered liis fortune as establii'he'l by 
Ihe vast sums at wliicli lie di'iiBosed of ihem to rapacious 
adventurers, who oppressed the people without shame, and 
without pity. 

t L. Fiug. (within.] Call this bendsmsn-brother:] i. e. 
(his i>oor dependent on onr charity. 

; This peniienllal speech of Luke is introduced with ad- 
Virable artitice, at the period of his breaking forth in his 



Enter Lady Frugal, An\b, Mary, Suaroazk, and 

MiLLlSCENT. 

L. Fivg. What are you devising, sir? 

Anne. JVIv uncle is much given 
To his devotion. 

Mary. And takes time to mumble 
A paternoster to himself. 

L. Frug. Know you where 
Your brother is? it better would become you 
(Your means of life depending wholly on him)' 
'i'o give your attendance. 

Luke. In my will I do: 
But since he rode forth yesterday with lord Lacjr, 
I have not seen him. 

L. F'tig. And why went not you 
By his stirrup ? How ! do you look ! Were his eyes 

closed, 
You'd be glad of such employment. 

Luke. 'I'was his pleasure 
I should wait your commands, and those I am ever 
Most ready to receive. 

L. Fi-vg. J know you can speak well ; 
But say audffTo. 

Enter Lord Laey. 

Luke. Flere comes my Lord. 

L. Frug. Further oft": 
You are no companion for him, and bis business 
Aims not at you, as 1 take it. 

Luke. Can I live 
In ihis base condition? 

L. Frug. 1 hoped, my lord. 
You had brought master Frugal with you j for J 

must ask 
An account of him from you. 

L. Lacy. 1 can give it, lady; 
But with the best discretion of a woman, 
And a strong fortified patience, I deisre you 
'I'o give it hearing. 

Luke. My heart beats. 

L. Frug. My lord, you much amaze me. fchant, 

L. Lucy. I shall astonish you. The noble mer- 
Who, living, was, for his integrity 
And upright dealing (a rare miracle 
In a rich ciiizen), London's best honour j 
Is 1 am loth to speak it. 

Luke. Wonderous strange! 

L. Frug. 1 do su|)pose the worst; not dead, I 
hope '. 

L. Lacy. Your supposition's true, your hopes 
are faUe ; 
He's dead. 

L. Frug. Ah me! 

Ani.e. My father ! 

JUari/. My kind father I 

Luke. Now they insult not. 

L. Lucy. Pray hear me out. 
He's dead ; dead to the world and you, and now 
Lives onlv to himself. 

Luke. What riddle's this i 

L. Frug. Act not the torturer in* my afflictions; 
But make me understand the sum of all 
That I must undergo 

L. Laci/. In t'ew words take it : 



true character ; nor is the insi.lence of lady Frugal and her 
daughters less judiciously time'l. 

* L. Frug. Art not Ihe torturer in my aj/iictions ;] VLw 
M. Mason reads, it is inipor.<ible to say wh>, 

Act not the torturer ot my ajfliclioru. 



392 



THE CITY MADAM. 



fAcrllL 



He is retired into a monastery, 
Where lie resolves to end his days. 

Luke. More strange. 

L. Lacij. 1 saw him take post for Dover, and th« 
wind 
Sittini^- so fair, by this he's safe at Calais, 
And ere hmg will be at Lovain. 

L. Friig. Could I cr-uess 
What were the motives that induced him to it, 
'Twere some allay to mv sorrows. 

L. Lactt. I'll instruct you, ^ 

And chide you into that knowledge ; 'twas your 

pride 
Above vour rank, and stubborn disobedience 
Of these your daughters, in their milk sucked from 

you : 
At home the harshness of his entertainment, 
You wilfully fori);ettin<;- that your all 
Was borrow'd iVom him ; and lo hear abroad 
The imputations liisper.-ed upon you. 
And justly too, I fear, that drew him to 
This strict retirement : and thus much said for him, 
I am mvself to accuse you. |j\ 

L. Fnig. I confess ^ 

A guilty cause to him. but in a thought, 
My lord, I ne'er wrong'd you. 

L. L«f I/. In fact you have. 
The insolent disgrace you put upon 
My oiily son, and Pleniy, men that loved 
Your daughters in a noble way, to wash off 
The scandal, put a resolution in them 
For three years' travel. 

L. Frug. 1 am much grieved for it. 

L. Laci/. One thing I had forgot ; your rigour to 
His deciiy'd broth*, in which your flatteries. 
Or sorceries, made him a co-agent with you. 
Wrought not the least impression. 

Luke. Hum ! this sounds well. 

L. Frug. 'Tis now past help : after these storms, 
my lord, 
A little talm, if you please. 

L. Lacy. If what 1 have told you 
Shovv'd like a storm, what now I must deliver 
Will prove a raging tempest. His whole estate. 
In lands and leases, debts and present monies, 
■With all the moveables he stood possess'd of, 
With the best advice which he could get for gold 
From his learned counsel, by this formal will 
Is pass'd o'er to his brother. — [Giving the will to 

Luke]. — With it take 
The key of his counting-house. Not a groat left 

you. 
Which you can call your own. 

L. Frui;. Undone for ever ! 

Aline. Mary. What vf ill become of us 1 

Luke. Hum I 

L. Lacy. The scene is changed, 
And he that was your slave, by fate appointed 

[Lady Frugal, Mary, and Anne kneel. 
Your governor : you kneel to me in vain, 
I cannot help you ; I discharge the trust 
'Imposed upon me. This huinility 
From him may gain remission, and perhaps 
Forgetfuless of your barbarous usage to him. 

L. Frug. Am I come to this! 

L. Lacy. Enjoy your own, good sir. 
But use it with due reverence. I once heard you 
Speak most divinely in the o]>posiiion 
of a revengeful humour ; to these show it. 
And such who then depended on the mercy 



Of your brother, wholly now at \our devotion. 
And make good the ojnnion I held of you. 
Of winch I atn most confident. 

Luke. Pray you rise. [J{ukes them, 

And rise with this asMirance, I am still 
As I was of late, your creature ; and if raised 
In any thing, 'tis in my power to serve vou ; 
My will is still the same. O my good lord ! 
This heap of wealth which vou possess uie of, 
Which to a worldly man had been a ble.-sing. 
And to themessenger might with justice challenge 
A kind of adoration, is to me 
A cur.ie I cannot thank you for; and much less 
Rejoice in that tiancpiillity of mind 
My brothel's vows must purchase. I have made 
A dear exchange with him : he now enjoys 
My peace and j)overty, the trouble of 
His wealth cont'err'd on me, and that a burthen 
Too heavy for my weak shoulders. 

L. Lacy. Honest soul, 
With what feeling he receives it ! 

L. Fruff. You shall have 
My best assistance, if you please to use it. 
To hf»lp you to support it. 

Luke. By no means ; ^ 

The weight shall rather sink me, than you part 
With one short minute from those lawful pleasures 
Which you were born to, in your care lo aid me: 
You shall have all abundance. In my nature 
1 was ever liberal ; my lord, vou know it ; 
Kind, afl'able. — And now methinks I see 
liefore my face the jubilee of joy. 
When 'tis assured my brother lives in me. 
Mis debtors, in full cups crown'd to my health. 
With jja?ans to my praise, vrill celebtate ! 
For they well know 'tis far from me to take 
The fori'eiture of a bond : nay, I shall blush. 
The interest never paid after three years. 
When I demand my principal : and his servants. 
Who from a slavish fear paid their obedience. 
By him exacted, now, when they aie mine. 
Will grow familiar friemls, and as such use me ; 
Being certain of the mildness of my temper. 
Which my change of fortune, frequent in most men, 
Hath not the power to alter. 

L. Lacy. Yet take heed, sir. 
You rijin not, with too much lenity. 
What his fit severity raised. 

L. Frug. And we fall from 
That height we have maintain'd. 

Luke. Til build it higher. 
To admiration higher. With disdain 
I look upon these habits, no way suiting 
The wife and daughters of a knighted citizen 
Bless'd with abundance. 

L. Lucy. There, sir, I join with you ; 
A fit decorum must be kept, the court 
Di^tinguisli'd from the city. 

Luke. With your favour, 
I k«ow what you would say ; but give me leave 
In this to be your advocate. You are wide. 
Wide the whole region*, in what I purpose. 



You Are wide, 



Wide the whole re^irni, in what 1 purpose.] This is a most 
admirable stroke, and shows with what exquisite judgment 
Massinger disci iininatts 'his character. Lord Lacy had 
touched a discordant string, and the vanity of Luke, already 
raised to an inordinate pilch by his rectnt glimpse of we.ilth, 
is irritated and aliiiined. The cxpressiini. You are wide, 
wide the whole region, is a Latiuisin, toto ccelo, iota reyione 
oberra*. 



SoKSt II] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



S9i 



Since all tlie titles, honours, long; descpnts, 
Borrow their gloss from wealth, the ricli with reason 
May cliallenge their prerogaiives : and it shall be 
My glory, nay a triumph, to revive. 
In the pomp that these siiall shine, the memory 
Of the Roman matrons, who kept captive queens 
To he their handmaids. And when you appear 
Like Juno in full majesty, and my nieces 
Like Iris, llebe, or what deities else 
Old poets fancy (your cramm'd wardrobes richer 
Than various nature's), and draw down the envy 
Of our western world upon you ; only hold me 
Your vi-iilant Hermes with aerial wings 
(My ca<luceus, my strong zeal to serve you), 
Prest* to fetch in all rarities may delight you, 
And I am made immortal, 

L. T.dcij. A strange frenzy ! 

Litke. Off with these rags, and then to bed ; there 
dri-am 
Of future greatness, which, when you awake, 
I'll make a certain truth : but I must be 
A doer, not a promiser. The performance 
Requiring haste, I kiss your hands, and leave you. 

[Exit. 
L. Liicii. Are we all turn'd statues? have his 
strange words charm'd us? 
What muse vou on, lady? 

L. Friig, Do not trouble me. 

L. Lacu. Sleep you too, young ones? 

A line. Swift-wing'd time, till now. 
Was never tedious to me. Would 'twere night ! 

Muril. Nay, morning rather. 

L. Lai y. Can you ground your faith 
On such impossibilities ? have you so soon 
Forgot your good husband ? 

L. Fnig. Me was a vanity 
I must no moie remember. 

L. I.acii. Excellent ! 
You, vdur kind father? 

Anne. Siith an uncle never 
Was read of in story ! 

L. Ldcif. Not one word in answer 
Of my demands ?• 

Miny. \()\i are but a lord ; and know. 
My thoughts soar higher. 

L. Luru. Admirable! I'll leave you 
To your castles in the air. - W hen I relate this 
It will exceed belief, but he must know it. [Exit, 

Star, Now I may boldly speak. May it please 
you, madam. 
To look upon your vassal ; I foresaw this. 
The stars assured it. 

L. Frag. 1 begin to feel 
Myself aii'itlier woman. 

iStiir. i\ow you shall find 
All my [irediciions true, and nobler matches 
Prepared for my young ladies. 

Mill, l^rincely husbands. 

Anne. I'll go no lessf. 

Muci/. Not a word more; 
Provide my night-rail J. 

Mill. What shall we be to-morrow ! [Exennt. 

• Proft lo fetch in. Sec ] i.e. rcafly, picp.<ro(l, to fetch in. 
The wonl oceiiis sii fieqiKuily in this sense, ihat it is uniie- 
ce>»iry lo pniiliice any example of it. 

+ Anne. /'U. po no less.] Tills is a uaining (phrase, and 
means, I will iu>t play for a smaller st.ike. 

{ Frovide rny ni;^htr.iil,; " Ent.r Ciimstitih wiili a night- 
rail, (row- Piay madam dues tlii- beUmi^ lo jnn or ini-s? 
O lal Mr. Seiiiibrief here! (folds up (he ni^ht-shift hag- 
tilyj." Love fur Money. 



SCENE III. — Another lioomin thesamt. 

Enter Luke. 

Luke. 'Twas no fantastic object, but a truth, 
A real truth ; nor c'ream : I did not slumbei. 
And could wake ever with a brooding eye 
To gaze upon't ! it did endure the touch, 
I saw and felt it ! Yet what I beheld 
And handled oft, did so transcend belief 
(My wonder and astonishment pass'd o'er), 
I faintly could give credit to my senses. 
Thou dumb magician,— [Tafciiig- out a key]. — that 

without a charm 
Didst make my entrance easy, to possess 
What wise men wi.sh, and toil for ! Hermes' moly, 
Sibylla's golden bough, the great elixir. 
Imagined only* by the alchymist, 
Compared with thee are shadows — thou the sub- 
stance. 
And guardian of felicity ! No marvel. 
My brother made thy place of rest his bosom, 
Thou being the keeper of his heart, a mistress 
To be huggipi'ver! In bv-corners of 
This sacred room, sih er in bags, heap'd up 
Ijike billets saw'd and ready fur the fire, 
Unworthy to hold feliowghip with bright gold 
That flow'd about the room, conceal'd itself. 
There needs no artificial light; the splendour 
Makes a perpetual day there, night and daiknes3 
By that still-burning lamp for ever banish'd I 
But when, guided by tlmt, mv eyes had made 
Discovery of the caskets, and they open'd. 
Each jsparklinof diamond from itself shot forth 
A pyramid of flames, and in the roof 
Fix'd it a glorious star, and made the pliice 
Heaven's abstract, orepitome !— rubies, sapphires, 
And ropes of orient pearl, tliese seen, I could not 
But look on with contemptf. And yet I found 
What weak credulity could have no faith in, 
A irea-ure far exceeding tliese : here lay 
A manor bound fast in a skin of parchment, 
The wax continuing h.inl, the acres melting; 
Here a sure deed of oift for a market-town, 
If not redeem'd this day, which is not in 
The unthrift's power: there being scarce one shire 
In Wales or England, where my monies are not 
Lent out at usury, the certain hook i 



* Imagined only bij /he alchymist,] 'i. e. which only ea 
ists in the imagination of the alcln mist 

t and made the place 

Heavens alistrart.ur eiAtume : — rubles, sapphire/, 
And rnjies ofnrienl prarl, these seen, /could not 
But look on with contempt.] For these most beautiful 
lines, which 1 hiive faiihfnlly taken from the old copies, Ihe 
modern editors give ns, 

■ and made the p,ace 

Heaven's ahsfrac/, or epilome. Huhies, sapphires. 
And ropes ./..riental pearl ; these seen, J could not 
But look on g.ilil with contempt ! ! 
These vile and senseless interpolalions mterly subvert no< 
only the metre, but tile meaning of the paasaiie: indeed itia 
evident that neiilier Co.vcler nor Mr. M. Mason (1 am loth 
to speak of Uixll.y), nnd.rstood a syllable of what thejr 
were mangling under the idea ofref.rming Tlie sense now 
is clear enough: the di.)m.mds, which are desciibed by on« 
of Ihe most magiiilic. nt ti^jiires lo be found in all poitiy, so 
r.ivi<lied his si^ln, that he looked upon' ihe other precioui 
stones, rubies, s.ipphires, and pearls (not ihe yold, which he 
had .dready dismissed Irom liis Ihonghts), with contempt. 
Errors (if lliis iiaiure are the more to be regietted, as they 
have induced many critics (;ind amoni; llieiii JJr. Ferrinr*) 
lo coinpliin of a want of h.irmony in a speech ihylhmical 
and m. hidioiis almost beyond example. 

* See 'J'hc Esmy on Masiinger. 



^4 



THE CITY MA DAW. 



[Arr IIL 



To draw in more. I am sublimed ! "rross earth 
Supports me not ; 1 walk on air ! — Who's there ? 
Enter Lord Lacy, with Sir John Frucai,, Sir 
Mavrice Lacv, and Plenty, disgiiiicd us Indians. 

Thieves ! raise the street ! thieves ! 

L.Lacxj. What strange passion's tiiis ! 
Have you vour eyes 1 do you know me? 

Luhe. You, mv lord ! 
I do : but tliis retinue, in these shapes too. 
May well excuse my fears.^ When 'tis your plea- 
sure 
That I should wait upon you, s;ive me leave 
To do it at your own house, for I must tell vou, 
Things as- they now are with me well consider'd, 
I do not like such visitants, 

L, Lacy. Yesterday, 
When you had nothing, praise your poverty for't, 
You could have sung secure before a thief; 
But now you are grown rich, doubts and suspi- 
cions. 
And needless fears, possess you. ^ank a good 

brother; ^| 

But let not tliis exalt you. 

Luhe. A good brother* ! 
Good in his c 'nscience, I confess, and wise. 
In giving o'er the world. But his estate, 
Which your lordship may conceive great, no way 

answers 
The general opinion : alas ! 
With a great charge, I am left a poor man by bim. 

L. Laci). A poor man, say you ! 

Luke. Poor, compared with that 
'Tis thought I do possess. Some little land, 
Fair houseiiold furniture, a few good debts, 
But empty bags, I find : yet I will be 
A faithful steward to his wife and daughters; 
And, to the utmost of my power, obey 
His will in all things. 

L. Lacy. I'll not argue with you 
Of his estate, but bind you to performance 
Of his last request, which is, for testimony 
Of his religious charity, that you would 
Beceive these Indians, lately sentJiim from 
Virginia, into your house ; and labour 
At any rate, with the best of your endeavours, 
Assisted by the aids of our divines, 
To make them Christians. 

Luke. Call you this, my lord. 
Religious charity ; to send infidels, 
I. ike hungry locusts, to devour the bread 
Should feed his family '! 1 neither can 
Nor will consent to't. 

L. Lacy. Do not slight it ; 'tis 
With him a business of such consequence. 
That should he only hear 'tis not embraced, 

• Luke. A gocxl brother ! 

Good in his conscience, I confess, &c.l Liilce alludes here 
to tlie mercantile sense of the word good, i. e. rich. In 
Lord Lacy's speech, there is an allusion to the well known 
veise : 

Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator. 



And (heerfully, in this his conscience aiming 
At the saving of threi' souls, 'twill draw him o'er 
To see it himselfaccixnplisli'd. 

Luhe. Heaven forbid 
I should divert him fr(>m his holv purpose 
To worldly cares again ! 1 rather will 
Sus'ain the burthen, and witf) the converted 
Feast the lonverters, who, I know, will prove 
The greater feeders. 

Sir John. Oh, ha,enewah Chrhh hutly leiha. 

Plenty. Enaulo. 

Sir Maur. Uarricit botihia honnery. 

Luhe. Ha! in this heathen hinguage. 
How is it possible our doctors should 
Hold conference with them, or I use the means 
For their conversion ? 

L. Lacy. That shall be no hindrance 
To your good purposes* : they have lived long 
In the Knglish colony, and speak our language 
As their own dialect ; the business does concern 

you : 
Mine own designs command me hence. Continue, 
As in your poverty you werp, a pious 
Ar.d honest man. [Exit, 

Luke. That is, interpreted, 
A slave and beggar. 

Sir John. You conceive it right ; 
There being no religion, nor virtue, 
But in abundance, and no vice but want. 
All deities serve Plutus. 

Luke Oracle ! 

Sir John. Temples raised to ourselves in th» 
increase 
Of wealth and reputation, speak a wise man; 
But sacrifice to an imagined Power, 
Of which we have no sense but in belief, 
A superstitious fool. 

Luke. True worldly wisdom ! 

Sir John. All knowledge else is folly. 

Sir Maur. Now we are yours, 
Be confident your better angel is 
Enter'd your house. 

Plentu. There being nothing in* 
'l"he compass of your wishes, but shall end 
In their fruition to the full. 

■Sir .John. As yet. 
You do not know us ; but when you understand 
1'he wonders we can do, and what the ends were 
That brought us hither, you will entertain us 
With more respect. 

Luke. There's something whispers to me 
These are" no common men ; — my house is yours. 
Enjoy it freely : only grant me this, 
Not to be seen abroad till I have heard 
More of your sacred priiici[des. Pray enter. 
You are learned Europeans, and we worse 
Than ignorant Americans. 

Sir John. You shall find it. [Exeunt, 



* To your fiOo(\ purposes :] Mr. M. Mason omits t/ood ; 
and, wliat is of more iinpurlance, the e.iit at the conclusion 
of the speech. 



Sci!fB T.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



395 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I.— A Room in Frugal's House. 
Etiter Ding'em, Gettall, and Holdfast. 
Ding. Not speak with him ! with fear survey me 
better, 
Thou figure of famine ! 

Gelt. Coming, as we do, 
From his quondam patrons, his dear ingles now*, 
The brave spark Tradewell, — 
Diiig. And the man of men 
In the service of a woman, gallant Goldwire ! 

Enter Luke, 
Hold. I know them for his prentices, without 
These flourishes. — Here are rude fellows, sir. 
Ding. Not yours, you rascal ! 
Hold, No, don pimp ; you may seek them 
In Bridewell, or the hole; here are none of your 
comroguesf. 
Luke. One of them looks as he would cut my 
throat : 
Your business, friends? 

Hold. I'll fetcii a constable; 
Let him answer him in the stocks. 

Ding. Stir an thou dar'st : 
Fright me with Bridewell and the stocks ! they are 

fleabitings 
I am familiar with. [Drauis. 

Luke. I'ray you put up ; 
And, sirrah, hold your peace. 

Ding. 'I'hy word's a law. 
And I obey. Live, scrape-shoe, and be thankful. 
Thou man of muck and money, for as such 
I now salute thee, the suburbian gamesters 
Have heaid thy fortunes, and I am in person 
Sent to congratulate. 

Gett. The news hath reach'd 
The ordinaries, and all the gamesters are 
Ambitious to shake the golden gollsj 
Of worshipful master Luke. 1 come from Trade- 
well, 
Your fine facetious factor. 
Ding. I from Goldwire; 
He and his Helen have prepared a banquet, 
With the appurtenances, to entertain thee ; 
For I must whisper in thine ear, thou art 
To be her Paris ; but bring money with thee 
To quit old scores. 

Geit. Blind chance hath frown'd upon 
Brave Tradewell: lie's blown up, but not without 
Hope of recovery, so you supply him 

• his dear ingles now,] i. e. Iiis bo- 
som friemls, liis associates , fn(/A/c, which the commeiilalors 
gometinits confouiid with this w"iil, (litters from it altoge- 
ther, both ill its (lerivalion aiid its iiie.iiiiiig. 

t Here are none of your oomrogiies:] This is absurdly 
chani;ed in the nimlei'ii editions into comrades, a very su- 
perfluous word al'ter./i'//o»/'s. 

J the yoldin golls, &c.l Go?/» is a cant word 

for hands, or rather ti»ts: it occiiis contiiiuHJly in our old 
poets. Tlins Decker: " Hidd up thy hands; 1 have seen 
the day when thou didt not scorn to hold up thy //n/ls." 

•S'atiromastUr. 
" Bid her tie up her head, and wish Inr 
To wa>li her /lands in bian or (lower. 
And do you in like manner scour 
Vuiir dirty golU." Cotton's Virgil, B. IV. 



With a good round sum. In my house, I can assure 

you, 

There's half a million stirring. 

Luke. What hath he lost? 

Gett. Three hundred. 

Luke. A trifle. 

Gett. Make it up a thousand, 
And I will fit him with such tools as shall 
Bring in a myriad 

Luke. They know me well, t 

N or need you use such circumstances for them : 
What's mine is theirs. 'J'hey are my friends, not 

servants. 
But in their care to enrich me ; and these courses 
The speeding means. Your name, I pray you ? 

Gett. Gettall. 
I have been- many years an ordinary-keeper, 
My box my poor revenue. 

Luke. Your name suits well 
With your profession. Bid him bear up, he shall not 
Sit long on Penniless- Bench. 

Gett. There spake an angel. 

Luke. You know mistress Shave'em ? 

Gelt. The pontifical punk? 

Lxike. The same. Let him meet me there some 
two hours hence : 
And Tell Tom Goldwire I will then be with him 
Furnish'd beyond his hopes ; and let your mistress 
Appear in her best trim. 

Ding. She will make thee young. 
Old .Eson : she is ever furnish'd with 
RIedaea's drugs, restoratives. I fly 
To keep them sober till thy worship come ; 
They will be drunk with joy else. 

Gelt. I'll run with you. 

[Exeunt Ding'em and Gettall. 

Hold. You will not do as you say, I hope ? 

Luke. Enquire not ; 
I shall do what becomes me. — [Knocking wHhin!\ — 
To the door. [Exit Holdfast. 

New visitants ! 

Re-enter Holdfast. 

What are they? 

Hold. A whole batch, sir. 
Almost of the same leaven : your needy debtors, 
Penury, Fortune, Hoyst. 

Luke. They come to congratulate 
The fortune fallen upon me. 

Hold. Rather, sir. 
Like the others, to prey on you. 

Luke. I am simple ; they 
Know my good nature : but let them in, however. 

Hold. All will come to ruin ! I see beggary 
Already knocking at the door. — You may enter — 

[Speaking to those withott:. 
But use a conscience, and do not work upon 
A tender-hearted gentleman too much ; 
'Twill bhow like charity in you. 

Enter Fortune, Penury, and HoirsT. 

Luke. Welcome, friends : 
I know your hearts, and wishes ; you are glai 
You have changed your creditor 



396 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Act IV 



Pen. 1 weep for joy 
To look ti]ioii liis worship's face. 

For. His worship's I 
I see lurd iniiyor written on his forehead ; 
The c;i|) of iiiiiinfenaiice, and city sword, 
Borne ii|) in state before him. 

Iloiii^t. Hospital^, 
And a ihiid Burse, erected by his honour. 

Pen. I lie citv poet on the pageant day 
Preferrin<j him before Gresham. 

Hflust. All the conduits 
Spoiitnio- can-.iry sack. 

For. Not a piisoner If ft. 
Under ten )ii!un(is. 

Pe". We, iiis i)oor beadsmen, feasting 
Our neij;hboiirs on his bounty. 

Luke. May 1 make good 
Your prophecies, p:eiitie friends, as I'll endeavour 
To the utmost of my j)ower ! 

Hot'l. ^'es, for one year. 
And break the next. 

Luke. You are ever prating, sirrah. 
Your pres'-nt business, friends'! 

Fur. W'j^re your brother present, 
Mine had been of some consecpience ; but now 
The power lies in your worship's hand, 'tis little. 
And will, I know, as soon as ask'd, be granted. 

Luke. 'I'is very probable. 

For. 'J'iie kind forbearance 
Of my great debt, by your means, Heaven ba 

piais'd for't ! 
Hath raised my sunk estate. I have two ships, 
Which 1 long- since gave for lost, above my hopes 
Return 'd from Barbary, and lichly freighted. 

Luki. Where are they 1 

For. Near Gravesend. 

Luke. I am truly glad of it. 

For. 1 find your worship's charitv, and dare 
swear so. 
Now may I have your license, as I know 
Witl) willingness I shall, to make the best 
Of the commoilities, though you have execution, 
And af'er judgment, against all that's mine, 
As my poor body, I shall be enabled 
To make payment of my debts to all the world, 
And leave myself a competence. 

Luke. Vou much wrong me. 
If you only doubt it. Yours, Mr. Hoyst? 

Hoyst. 'J'is the surrendering back the mortgage 
of 
My lands, and on good terms, but three days 

patience ; 
By an uncle's death 1 have means left to redeem it. 
And cancel all the foifeited bonds I seal'd to, 
In my liots, to the merchant ; for I am 
Resolved to leave of}' play, and turn good husband. 

Luke. A good intent, and to be clierish'd in you. 
Yours, Penuiy ? 

Pen. My .state stands as it did, sir : 
What I owed 1 owe, but can pay nothing to you. 
Yet, if you please to trust me with ten pounds 

more, 
I can buy a commodity of a sailor 
Will make me a freeman. There, sir, is his name ; 
And the parcels 1 am to deal for. 

, [^Gives him a paper. 

Luke. You are all so reasonable 
In your demands, that I must Ireely grant them. 
Some three hours henc- iiiee^ me on the Exchange, 
Vou shall be amply satisfied. 



Pen. Heaven preserve you ! 

For. Happy were London, if within her walls 
She had many such rich men ! 

Luke. No more; now leave me ; 
I am full of various thoughts. — [Exeunt Fortune, 

Houst, and Penury.'] — Be careful, Holdfast : 
I have much to do. 

Hold. And I something to say 
Would you give me hearing. 

Luke. At my better leisure. 
Till my return look well unio the Indians ; 
In the mean time do you as ibis directs you. 

l_G iies him a /laper. Exeunt, 



SCENE II. — A Room in- ^hdve'em's House. 

E?iterGot.Dwini'J»/jiioc,TnADEWi:i i,junii>r, Shave'em, 
StcRET, Gettall, uJid Dim; 'km. 

Gi'ld, AH that is mine is theirs. Those were his 
words ? 

Ding. 1 am authentical. 

Trade. And that I should not 
Sit lono on Penniless-Bencli ? 

(iell. Hut suddenly start up 
A gamester at the height, and cry. At all! 

Shave. And did he seem to have an inclination 
To toy with me ? 

Ding. He wish'd you would put on 
Your best habiliments, for he resolved 
'l"o make a jovial day on't. 

Gold. Hug him close, wench. 
And thou may'st eat gold and amber. I well know 

him 
For a most insatiate drabber ; he hath given. 
Before he spent his own estate, which was 
Nothing to the huge mass he's now possess'd of, 
A hiiiiilred pound a leap. 

Shave. Hell take my doctor ! 
He should have brought me some fresh oil of talc ; 
These ceruses are common*. 

Secret. 'Troth, sweet lady. 
The colours are well laid ou. 

Gold. And thick enough, 
I- find that on my lips. 

Shave. Do you so. Jack Sauce ! 
I'll keep them further off. 

Gold. But be assured first 
Of a new maiiitainer ere you cashier the old one. 
But bind him fast by thy sorceries, and thou shalt 
Be my revenue ; the whole college study 
The reparation of thy ruin'd face ; 
'Thou shalt have thy proper and bald-headed coacb- 

man ; 
Thj' tailor and embroiderer shall kneel 
To thee, their idol : Cheapside and the Exchange 
Shall court thy custom, and thou shale forget 

• He should have brought me some fresh cil of IhIc ; 

These cfrw^K& are common.] 'J'lilc is a fusfil ^•a^ily divi- 
sible into liiii iKiniiia-. From its Pniooilmi'.-i?, iiiiciuosity, 
and bii>;litnt'ss, it li.is been ^really c libraled as a cosmetic, 
and the cliyinists liave subnjiiied It to a varlely «.f ope- 
raiions for prociiiini; from it oils, .<;all<, liint'iie*, ma- 
(;i^tt'ries, &c , lor tli:it purpose; but all tin ir lihoiirs liave 
bren in vain, and all tlie pieparaiions sold nn U r Hit- name 
of oH of talc, &;c., Iiave eillier loniained notliini; of that 
inineial, or only a line powder of it. To this ioforMiation, 
wliiili I ove lo the I'licyclopieilia Driliiniiia, 1 have only 
lo add, ih.d a ilelelerions colnpo^ili>>ll, nndt r tliis name, wa« 
.sold l)> ihe ipiacks of Massingei's tin e, as a \va li lor the 
eoniple.\iiin, and is mentioned by all liis conUiiiporarle* 
(\-ruse, 1 fear, is yet in use. 



SCINE IT.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



397 



There e'er was a St. Martin's* : ihy iirocurer 
Shall be sheath "d in velvet, and a reverend veil 
Pass lier for a grave matron. Have an eye to the 

door, 
And let loud music, when this monarch enters, 
Proclaim his entert.iinment. 

Ding. I hat's my office. 

\^Floiirish of cornets within. 
The consort's ready. 

Enter Luke. 

Trade. And the ffod of pleasure, 
Master Luke, our Comus, enters. 

Gold. St't your face in order, 
I will ])repare him. — Live I to see this day, 
And to ackiiowleclo^e you my royal master ? 

Trade. Let the iron chests fly open, and the gold, 
Rusty for want of u^e, appear ag-iiin ! 

Gett. Make my ordinary flourish ! 

Shave. \\ elcome, sir, 
To your ovin palace ! [The music plays. 

Gold. Kiss your Cleopatra, 
And show yourself, in your magnificent bounties, 
A second Antony I 

Ding. All the nine worthies ! 

Secret. Variety of pleasures wait upon you, 
And a strong; hack ! 

Luke. Give me leave to breathe, I pray you. 
I am astonished ! all this preparation 
For me ? and this choice modest beauty wrought 
To feed my appetite? 

All- We are all your creatures. 

Ltike. A house well fiirni-h'd! 

Gold. At jour own cost, sir, 
Glad I the instrument. I ^iropliesied 
You siiould possess what, now you do. and therefore 
Pri-pared it fur your pleasure. There's no rag 
This \'enus wears, hut, on my knowledj^e. was 
Derived from your brother's cash ; the lease of the 

house. 
And furniture,, cost near a thousand, sir. 

Shave. But now you are master both of it and 
me, 
1 ho]je you'll huild elsewhere. 

Luke. And see you placed, 
Fair one, to jour desert. As I live, friend Trade- 
well, 
I hardly knew you, vour clothes so well become 

you. 
What is your loss ? speak tnithf 

Trade. I hree hundred, sir. 

Gett. But on a new supjdv he shall recover 
The sum told twenty times o'er. 

Share. There's a hantjuet. 
And alter thiit a soft couch, that attends you. 

Luke. 1 couple not in the daylight. V.x\ ectation 
Heightens the pleasure of the night, my sweet one ! 
Your music's liarsh, discharge it ; I have provided 
A better consort, and you shall frolic it 
In another place. [The mu^ic ceases. 

Gi'kl. But have you brought gold, and store, sir\ ? 

Trade. 1 long to wear the casterj. 

* Thou shalt foryet 

Th-re e'er irax a St. Mariin'n:] The parish of St. Martin 
appcar.s iri;m the old liistoiics <.f LniicUin, lo h^ivi' bi en di.s- 
tingiiislied, siiccfssivily, fur a saiictiMry, a bridewtli, a spit- 
tle, and an alms-house. Whiili of Hiem was to l)e driven 
from Ihu mind of mistress Sliave'tin, by llie lull lidc of 
prosperity which is here aiitieipated, inu.'-t be left to the 
frMgacity of the re.ider. 

T (Ji.ld. But have you brought gold, and store, sir?] 
This a.s I h.iv.- ai.eady observed, is a line of an <ld ballad. 

1 Trade. J long to wear the caster.] Tradewell is anxious 



Gold, I to appear 
In a fresh habit. 

Shave. M y mercer and my silkman 
Waited me two hours since. 

Luke, 1 iim no porter 
To carry so much gold as will supply 
Your vast desires, hut I have ta'en order for you: 

Enter Sheriff, iMarshal, and Officers, 
You shall have what is fitting, and they come hera 
Will see it p rform'd. — Do your offices : you bay* 
My lord chiHr.jnstice's warrant for't. 

Sher. Seize them all. 

Shave. The city marshal ! 

Gold. And the sheriff! I know him. 

Secret. W'e ;ire betrayed. 

Ding. Uiidore. 

Gett. Deal" mtister Luke. 

G'>ld. YoU|taniiot he so cruel ; your persuasion 
Chid us into these courses, oft repeating, 
Show yourselves riti/- sparks, and hang np money ! 

Luke. True; when it was mv l)rolher's, I con- 
temn 'd it ; 
But now it is mine own, the case is altered. 

Trade. Will you prove yourself a devil? tempt 
us to mischief. 
And then discover it ! 

Luke. Argue that hereafter; 
In the meaiiiiine, Alaster Goldwire, you that made 
Your ten-pound suppers ; kept your punks at livery 
In Brentford, Staines, and I5arnet, and this, in Lon- 
don ; 
Held corres])onilence with your fellow-cashiers, 
Ka me ku thee! and knew in your accomjils 
To cheat m\ lirotlier, if you c in. evade me. 
If there be law in London, your father's bonds 
Shall answer for what you are out. 

for a supply of inoiii y, to relurii lo the ordinary or gam- 
blint; house. For C'lSter Mr. M. Mason ehooses to read 
castor: he then oi>^erM's on liis oimi ,-opliistication, " allu- 
ding to the Ih owers of dice at h izard, ami to the cloth 
made of llie be.aers hiir " '1 he last >iipp(.siiion is ludikely, 
the lornier is prol).ibl> ris;ht. 'lie diHi<uii>, however, is not 
in the wool casln-, Inn wear. W < eilnr vear the caster, 
sigiiilie<l in the lan'iu ig>; • f gaming, to tin- the ratter, ur had 
any other ii.e..iiing niore appropri.ile Id ihe prole.-.-ion, I 
know not; bm iini willing to .suppose so, iu piefeitnce to 
lamporing v iih ihe ti \t. it-OS. 

1 have sntleied this notr, which I trust is sufficiently 
modest, to remain as a nninento to tlio.se who, like myself, 
may have to lieat of ti-,dmical leinis, in an art to which 
they are str.iii^eis. H bile 1 wa.s g.avely lili.niiing lo rea- 
son on a p.intei s blui.der, and to expliin a te\l which, if 
correct, 1 sliadl not lave undersiood, a reference to tha 
Monthlfi Mirror set all right in an instant. 

" Ware the c.is er !" (for so it slnnd'l be and not wear). 
"Wlien ti.e seller supposes hiin:-elf lo po-stss more money 
than the c.isti r, it is iisimI fnr ' im, on putting his stake into 
'the fino, to cr> /) are easier f the casterthen <le<liies at all 
under such a sum, ten, twenty, or hilv poinds, for instance; 
or else to pl.ice ai;aiiisl the stakes of ceriain sellers, the cor- 
responding Slims. .11. d cr> , Haie c.verd onlj ! ' This ex- 
pl.ination nndonbti dly ad(l^ gre.itly lo the fo-ce and humour 
of this characlif. "The ambitious Tradewell expects by 
the assist.mre of Luke, to be Imdpar.imouiit of the gaming- 
table : as caster to be at all! and as seller, to ware Ihe cas- 
ter \" 

Mr. M. M ison's observation on caster, led me to obscrv« 
that this was .dso a cant term for a Plymouth v.loik, i. e. 
a staff, whli h 1 mention, lieci ise il givis nn- an 0|)p.'itunily 
of adding ihe loUowing 1 vely and plea-ii'g p.issage, from 
Shirley, which ilie ri'ader miy, if he pleases, ad l to what 
has been alrenly advanced on this term, 

" a reed 

lint waved di-ereeily, ha- so many pores, 
Il stu l,s U|> .dl the r dn lli.it fall- .ilioiit ■me. 
Willi ihis defence, when olhii men I aveliecn 
Wet to the .skin throu-li all their clo.iks, 1 have 
Detied .i tempest, and w.dk. d b) the laveins 
Dry as a bone." — Lady of Pleasure. Act. IV. 



398 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[ArrlV 



Gold. You often told us 
It was a bugbear. 

Luke. Such a one as shall fright them 
Out of tFieir esiates, to make me satisfaction 
To the utmost scruple. And for you, madam, 
Mv Cleopatra, by your own confession. 
Your liouse, and all your moveables, are mine ; 
Nor shall you nor your matron need to trouble 
Your mercer, or your silkman ; a blue gown, 
And a whip to boot, as I will handle it. 
Will serve the turn in Bridewell ; and these soft 

hands. 
When they are inured to beating hemp, be scour'd 
In your penitent tears, and quite forget their 

powders 
And bitter almonds. 

!>have. Secret. Ding. Will you show no mercy 1 

Luke. 1 am inexorable. ^ 

Gett. I'll make bold 
To take n;y leave ; the gamesters stay my coming. 

Luke. We must not part so, gentle master Gett- 
all. 
Your box, your certain income, must pay back 
Tliree hundred, as I take i', or you lie by it. 
There's half a million stirring in your house. 
This a poor trifle.— Master Shrieve and master 

Marshal, 
On your perils do your oflices. 

Gold. l)ost ihou cry now [^Fo Tradewell. 

Like a maudlin gamester after loss? I'll sutler 
Like a houiant, and now in my misery, 
In scorn of all thy wealth, to thy teeih tell thee 
Tlioii wert mv jiander. 

Luke. Shall 1 hear this from 
My prentice ? 

Mur. Stop his mouth. 

iSher. Away with them. 

[Exeunt Sheriff. Marshal, and Officers, with 
Gold. Trade. Share. Secret. Gett. and Ding. 

Luke. A prosperous omen in my entrance to 
My alter'd nature ; these house-thieves remov'd, 
And what was lost, beyond my hopes recover'd, 
Will add unto mv heap : increase of wealth 
Is the rich man's ambition, and mii.e 
Shall know no bounds. The valiant Macedon 
Having in his conceit subdue'l one world, 
Lamented that there were no more to conquer: 
In my wav, he shall be my great example. 
And when my private house, in cramm'd abund- 
ance. 
Shall prove the chamber of the city poor. 
And Cienoa's bankers shall look pule with envy 
When 1 am mentioned, I shall grieve there is 
No more to be exhausted in one kingdom. 
Religion, conscience, charity, farewell ! 
To me you are words only, and no more ; 
All human happiness consists in store. [^Exit. 



I'll suffer 



Like a bomaii,] " A botnan, in ilie language of Alsatia" 
(White Fri.irs, of liainliitt.iit dt-litors, gamblers, tliieves), 
"nie.iMS a n.ill.iiit felluw." M. Mashn.— It do.-s so; but I 
doubt wlietlitT this w.is the aiillior's word. Gi>liluire is not a 
giiiiblcr, nor dots In- art. ct ilie cant of one. liomnn, in ilie 
qaarlo,is!;ivt'n with the capital Ictti r, and is not improbably a 
misprint for Homan. To die or to siitfer like a Roman, occurs 
perDetiially in our oltl pl.ijs, anil, generally, in a kinil of 
liiQck-heroic. '\'\\w* l.aznillo, in The H^omiin- Hater " I 
will die bravelVi and like a lioman!" 



SCENE III.— yl Street. 
Enter Serjeants icith Fohtune, Hoyst, and Peni'RY. 
For. At master Luke's suit* ! the action twenty 

thousand ! 
1 Serj. With two or three executions, which shall 
grind you 
To powder when we have you in the counter. 

For. Thou dost belie him, varlet ! be, good gentle- 
man, 
Will weep when he hears how we are used. 

1 Seij. Yes, millstones. 

Pen. He promised to lend me ten pound for a 
bargain, 
He will not do it this way. 

2 SerJ. 1 have warrant 

For wliat I have done. You arc a poor fellow, 

And there being little to be got by you. 

In charity, as I am an ofScer, 

1 would not have seen you, but upon compulsion. 

And for mine own security. 

3 Serj. Vou are a gallant. 

And I'll do you a courtesy, provided 

'J'hat you Lave money : for a piece an hour, 

I'll keep you in the house till you send for bail. 

2 Serj. In the mean time, yeoman, run to the other 
counterf, 

And search if there be aught else out against him. 

3 Se<j. ThHt done, haste to his creditors : he's a 
prize, 

And as we are city pirates by our oaths, 
We must make the best on't. 

Hoiist. Do your worst. I care not. 
I'll be removed to the hjeet, and drink and drab 

there 
In spite of your teeth. I n6w repent 1 ever 
Intended to be honest. 

Enter Luke. 

3. Seij. Here he comes 
You had best tell soj. 

For. U'orshiptul sir. 
You come in lime to free us from these bandogs. 
I know you gave no way to'U 

Pen. Or it you did, 
'Twas but to try our patience. 

Hoy. 1 must tell you 
I do not like such trials. 

Luke, Are you Serjeants 
Acquainted with the danger of a rescue, 
Yet stand here prating in the street? the counter 
Is a safer place to parley in. 

For. Are you in earnest ? 



* At master Luke's suit .' The action twenty thousand ''' 
The old copy reads, At M. Luke's suit! \c., wliicli I ohiy 
uotice for the sake of observing that our old writers assumed 
to Ihein.selves the privilege of abridging the word master, 
and pronouncing oidy ilie initial letter of it (em), as in the 
line before us. Of this there are loo many instances in this 
single play to admit a doubt; since without some license of 
this sort, many lines could not be spoken as verse. 

t "i Serj. in the mean time, yeoman, run to the other 
counter, &c.] Fielchng has closely followed Mas^inger in 
his Amelia; indeeil, he has done little more than copied 
him, or ratiier perhap;* nature, which each of them had in 
view. The dialogue before us might have been wiiuen yes 
terday. 

J 3 Serj. Here he comes 

You had best tell so \ Mr. M. Mason reads, 
tiere he comes ; 
y ou hart best liim tell so. 
His false pointing made his barbarous interpolation necet- 
sary : the old copy is evidently rinl I. 



>fcKNE IV.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



3931 



Luke. Yes. faith ; I will be satisfied to a token*. 
Or. build upon't, vou rot there. 

For. Can a g;entleman 
Of your soft and silken temper speak sUch lar.- 
^uage ? 
Pen. So hnnest, so religious? 
Hdij. That prpaclied 
So rniich of cli.iritv for us tf) your brother? 

J.iike. Yes, when I was in poverty it showed 

w«ll : 
jt I inherit with his state, his mind. 
And rou^hfr niiture. I ;:rant then I talked, 
For some ends to myself concealed, of pity. 
The poor man's orisons, and such like nothinE;.^ : 
But what I thought you shall all feet, and with 

rigour ; 
Kind master Luke says it. Who pays for your 

attendance ? 
Do vou wait gratis? 
For. Hear us speak. . 
Luke. Whde I, ' 

Like the adder, stop mine ears : or did I listen, 
Though you spake with the tongues of angels to 

me, 
lam not to be altered. 

For. Let me make the best 
Of my ships, and their freight. 

Pen. Lend me the ten pounds you promi -ed. 
Hoy. A day or two's patience to redeem my 
mortgage. 
And you shall be satisfied. 
Fur. To the utmost farthing. 
Luke. I'll show some mercy ; which is, that I 
will not 
Torture you with false hopes, but make you know 
What you shall trust to. Your ships to my use 
Are seized on. I have got into my hands 
Your bargain from the sailor, 'twas a good one 
For such a petty sum. I will likewise take 
The extremity of your mortgage, and the forfeit 
Of your several bonds ; the use and principal 
Shall not serve. Think of the basket, wretches, 
And a coal-sack for a winding-sheet. 
Fur. Broker ! 
Hoy. Jew ! 
For, Impostor! 
Hoy. Cut-throat! 
For. Hypocrite ! 
Luke, Do, rail on ; 
Mov.! mountains with your breath, it shakes not 
me. 
Pen. On my knees I beg compassion. My wife 
and children 
Shall hourly pray for your worship. 

For. Rline betake thee 
To the devil, thy tutor*. 
Pen, Look upon my tears. 
Hoy. My rage. 
For. My wrongs. 
Luke. They are all alike to me ; . 



* Luke. Yes, faith, I will be satisfied to a tukeii,] i. e. 
to a fartliino;. 

t For. Mine betake the« 

To the devil, ihy tutor.] That is, says Mr. Davies, 
"may the eartli open lo swallow thee up, or ma>st thou be 
undermme't" ! Why, this "is t lie best Cooling of all." To 
betake is lo reronnnend, lo consi;4n, to give over: My wife 
and I'liildieii, says Penury, shall pray fT yon. Mine(,\.K. 
my \^ife and children), aild.s Fortune, shall consign you to 
Uw devil, ^uur lulujc 



Entreaties, cursee, prayers, or imprecations. 
Do your duties, ^erjea^ts, I am elsewhere look'd 
for. [litt. 

3 Serj. This your kind creditor ! 
2 Serj. A vast villain, rather. 
Pen, St^e, see, the Serjeants pity us ! yet he's 

marble. 
Hoy. Buried alive I 
For. There's no means to avoid it. [EieunU 



SCENE IV.— ^ lloom in Sir John Frugal's House. 

Enter Holdfast, Stargazk, and Milliscknt. 
Star. Not wait upon my lady? 
Hold. Nor come at her; 
You find it not in your almanack. 

Mill. Nor I have license 
To bring her- breakfast ? 

Hold, My new master hath 
Decreed this for a fasting-day. She hath feasted 

long. 
And after a carnival Lent ever follows. 

Mill. Give me the key of her wardrobe. You'll 
repent this ; 
1 must know what gown she'll wear. 

Hold. You are mistaken. 
Dame president of the sweetmeats ; she and her 

dausjiiters 
Are lurii'd philosophers, and must carry all 
■jheir wealtii abnul them: they have clothes laid in 

their chamber. 
If they please to put them on, and without help too. 
Or they may walk naked. You look, master Star- 
gaze, 
As you had seen a strange comet, and had now 

foretold 
The end of the world, and on what day : and you, 
As the wasps had broke into the gallipots, 
And eaten up your apricots. 

L. Friig, [wilhni.] Stargaze! Milliscent ! 
Mill. My lady's voice. 
Hold. Stir iij}t, you are confined here. 
Your ladyship may approach them if you please. 
But they are bound in this circle. 

L. Frug. [within] Mine own bees 
Rebel against me* ! When my kind brother knows 

this, 
I will be so revenged ! 

Hold. The world's well alter'd. 
He's your kind brother now ; but yesterday 
Your slave and jesting-stock. 

Enter Lady Frugal, Anne, and Mary, in coaru 
habits, weeping. 

Mill. What witch hath transform 'd you 1 

Star. Is this the glorious shape your cheating 
brother 

Promised you should appear in ? 

Mill. My young ladies 
In biifRii gowns, and green aprons ! tear them off; 
Rather show all than be seen thus. 

Hold. ' Tis more cdmely, 
I wis, than their other whim-whams. 



• L. Frut;. Mirv own bees 

Bebfl ayainsl ine,] This is a strange expression ; but it 
is probably righi :-tliu lady seems still to consider herself »* 

the su4iS» uf liia i.ihM 



400 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Act [V 



Mill. A French hood too. 
Now 'tis out of fashion ! a fool's cap would show 
better. 
L. Friig. We are fool'd indeed : by whose ccm- 
muud are we used this ? 

Enter Luke. 

Hold. Here he comes that can best resolve vou. 

L. Fiug. O, good brother ! 
Do you tlius preserve your protestation to me? 
Can queens envy this habit? or did Juno 
E'er feast in such a shape ? 

Anue. You talk'd of Hebe. , 
Of Iris, ii!id I know not what; but were they 
Dress'd as we are? they were sure some chandlers' 

daugliters 
Bleaching lineii in Moorfields. 

Mart). Or excliange wenches, 
Coming from eating pudding-pies on a Sunday 
At Pimlico, or Islington. 

Luke. Save you, sister ! 
I now dare style you so : you were before 
Too glorious to be look'd on, now you appear 
Like a city mntron, and my pretty nieces 
Such things as were born and bred there. Why 

should you ape 
The fashions of court-ladies, whose high titles, 
And pedigrees of long descent, give warrant 
For their superfluous bravery ? 'twas monstrous; 
Till now you ne'er look'd lovely. 

L. Friig. Is this spoken 
In scorn ? 

Luke. Fie! no; with judgment. I make good 
My ]iromise, and now show you like yourselves, 
In your own natural shapes, and stand resolved 
You shall continue so. 

L. Fnig. It is confess'd, sir.* 

Luke Sir! sirrah: use your old phrase, I can 
bear it. 

L. Fn:g. 'I'liat, if you please, forgotten, we ac- 
knowledge . 
We have deserved ill from you, yet despair not, 
Though we are at your disposure,j|^ou'll maintain 

us 
Like your brother's wife and daughters. 

Luke. ' I'is my purpose. 

L. Fri'g. A lid not make us ridiculous. 

Luke. Admired rather. 
As fair examjile!; for our proud city dames. 
And tiieir proud brood to imitate. Do not frown ; 
If you do, 1 laugli, and glory that I have 
The power, in you, to scourge a general vice. 
And r:se up a new satirist : but hear gently. 
And in a gentle phrase I'll rej)rehend 
Your late ilisguised deformity, and cry up 
This decency and neatness, with the advantage 
You shall receive by't. 

L. Frug. We are bound to hear you. 

Luke. With a soul inclined to learn. Your 
father was 
An honest country farmer, goodmaa Humble, 
By his neighbours ne'er call'd xMasler. Did your 

pride 
Descend IVom him? but let that pass : your fortune. 
Or rather your husband's inilustry, advanced you 

• L. Fiiii;. It is confess'd, air. \ A speccFi of Lake's ap- 
pears til hu 1,1st IiVk;, fi.r ni tliit to « liicli this forms llit- reply, 
no a-oiis,iti()M of La'ly Kruu.il is biou.:lil forward; nor does 
It at A\\ appear, vvlidt stie so iiieeUly admits. 



To the rank of a merchant's wife. He made a 

knight, 
And your sweet mistress-^hip ladyfied, you wore 
Satin on solemn days, a chain of gold, 
A velvet hood, rich borders, and sometimes 
A dainty miniver cap"*, a silver pin 
Headed with a pearl worth three-pence, and thus 

far 
You were privileged, and no man envied it ; 
It being for the city's lionour that 
There should be a distinction between 
The wife of a patrician, and jilebeian. 

Mill. Pray you, leave preaching, or choose bosm 
other text ; 
Your rhetoric is too moving, for it makes 
Your auditory weep. 

Luke, Peace, chattering magpie ! 
I'll treat of you anon ; but when the height 
And dignity of London's blessings grew 
Contemptible, and the name lady mayoress 
Became a by-word, and you scorn'd the means 
By which you were raised, my brotlier's fond indul- 
gence 
Giving the reins to it; and no object pleased you 
But the glittering pomp and bravfery of the court; 
What a strange, nay monstrous, metamorphosis fol- 
lowed ! 
No English workman then could please your fancy. 
The French and Tuscan dress your whole dis- 
course ; 
This bawd to prodigality, entertain'd 
To buzzinto your ears what shape this countess 
Appear'd in the last mask, and how it drew 
I'he young lords' eyes upon her ; and this usher 
Succeeded in the eldest prentice' place 
To walk before you 

L. Frug. Pray you end. 

Hold. Proceed, sir ; 
I could fast almost a prenticeship to hear you, 
You touch them so to the quick. 

Luke. Then, as I said, 
The reverend hood cast off, yourborrow'd hair, 
Powder'd and curl'd, was by voiir dresser's art 
Form'd like a coronet, hangd with clianionds, 
And the richest orient pearl ; your carcanets 
That did adorn your neck, of eijual value* : 
Your Hungerford bands, and Spanish quellio ruffs j 
Great lords and ladies feasted to survey 
Etnbroider'd petticoats; and sickness feign'd 
That .your night-rails of forty pnunds a piece 
Might be seen with envy of the visitants ; 
Kich pantofles in ostentation shown, 



• A dam?// miniver cap,] Miniver, as \ learn from Cot- 
grave, \i the fur of llie er'iiine ini\ed wiih rli it ot lire smalj 
weasel (menu voir), called j;ris or gray. In the days of 
our author, and indeed, long htfore, the nse of fnrs was 
aliiiosi universal. The nobility had tliem of ermine and 
s.ib'ie, the weallliy merchanls. of vair and gray (ihe dainty 
miniver of Luke), and the lower order of people of such 
home materials as were ea-i.st Mippl.ed, squirrel, limb, and 
above all, rabbit's skins. Fur lljn last article the demand 
was anciently so great, that innumerable rablnt warreiig 
were establislied In the vicinity of ihe metropolis. 

t ynur carcanets. 

That did adorn ynur nrclis, of eqwil value :] villi 

what he had menlione.i before. 1 should not have noticed 
this, had not Mr. M. Mason, to spoil fie sense of a plain 
passa'.;e, read, with equ.d value. Qiwllio (a eoriuption of 
ciu'llo); ruffs, itrv rnils tor Ihe nec/t. laike fuiiiiOus the 
mosi iiuiiplete picture of the dits-, maimers, i:e., of the 
dirtereiil cla-ses of ciiiicns' wives, at that lime, that is to be 
foui>d on the ancient siajje. 



Scene I j 



THE CITlT MADAM. 



«>i 



And roses worth a family* ; you were served in 

plate, 
Stirr'd not a foot without j'our coach, and going 
To church, not for devotion, but to show 
Your pomp, you were tickled when the beggars 

cried. 
Heaven save your honour ! this idolatry 
Paid to a painted room. 

Hold, Niiy, you have reasoa 
To blubber, all of you. 

Luke. And when you lay 
In childbed, at the christening of this minx, 
I well remember it, as you had been 
An absolute princess, since they have no more. 
Three several chambers hung, the first with arras, 
And that for waiters ; the second crimson satin. 
For the meaner sort of guests ; the third of scarlet 
Of the r-cli lyiian ilye ; a canopy 
To cover the brat's cradle ; you in state 
Like Pompey's Julia. 

L. Frug. No more, I pray you. 

Luke. Of this, be sure, you shall not. I'll cut off 
Whatever is exorbitant in you. 
Or in [your] daughters, and reduce you to 
Your natural forms and habits ; not in revenge 
Of your base usage of me, but to fright 
Others by your example : 'tis decreed 
You shall serve one another, for I will 
Allow no waiter lo you. Out of doors 
With these useless drones ! 

Hold. Will you pack] 

Milt. Not till I have 
My trunks along with me. 

Luke. N ot a rag ; you came 
Hither without & box. 



S:ar. You'll show to me 
1 hope, sir, more compassion. 

Hold. Troth I'll be 
Thus far a suitor for him : he hath printed 
^An iilmanackfor this year at his own charge ; 
Let him have the impression with liiin, to sei op 
with. 

Luke. For once I'll be entreated ; let it be 
Thrown to him out of the window. 

Stur O cursed stars 
That reigned at my nativity ! how have you cheated 
Your poor observer 1 

Aune. Must we part in tears? 

i\Iaru. Farewell, good Milliscent! 

L. Frug. lam sick, and meet with 
A rough physician. O my pride and scorn! 
How justly am I punish'd ! 

Miiry. Now we suffer 
For our stubbornness and disobedience 
To our good father. 

Anne. And the base conditions 
We itnposed upon our suitors. 

Luke. Get you in. 
And cntterwaul in a corner. 

L. Frug. There's no contending. 

[L. Frugal, Anne, and Mary, go off at one door. 
Stargaze and Mitliscenl at' the other, 

Inike. How 
Lik'st thou my carriage. Holdfast? 

Hold. Well in some part. 
But it relishes, 1 know not how, a little 
Of too much tyraimy. 

Luke. Thou art a fool : 
He s cruel to himself, that dares not be 
Severe to those that used him cruelly. [Ftxeunt 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — A Room in Sir John Frugal's House. 
Enter Luke, Sir John Frugal, Sir Maurice Lacv, 
and Plenty. 
Luke. You care not then, as it seems, to be con- 
verted 
To our religion ? 

Sir Joint. We know no such word. 
Nor f)ower but tiie devil, and him we serve for 

fear. 
Not love. 

Luke, I am glad that charge is saved. 
Sir John. We put 
That trick upon your brother, to have means 

• And roses worth a family .•] 1 have already said that 
these Tusfs '.knots of ribands) were enormously large ; anil 
it appears froMi Stow (who, as Mr. Gilchrist justly observes, 
is frequently the best coniim-ntator on Massingcr) that they 
were extrt-mely dear. " Concerning shoe-roses either .f 
silke or what siutte soever, ihey were nor then (in the rei^^n 
of queen Elisabeth) used nor known; nor was there any 
garters above the price of live shillings a payre, altho at 
this da> (James I.) men of meane rank weare .j/a77t;r« and 
ihoe r OKI ui more than five pounds price." 1'. 103!» fol. 



To come to the city. Now to you we'll discover 
The close design that brought us, with assurance. 
If you lend your aids to furnish us with that 
Which in the colony was not to be purchased. 
No merchant ever made such a return 
For his most precious vetiture, as you shall 
Receive from us ; far, far above your hopes. 
Or fancy, to imagine. 

Luke. It must be 
Some strange commodity, and of a dear value, 
(Such an opinion is planted in me 
You will deal fairly), that I would not hazard ; 
Give me the name of it. 

Sir Maur. I fear you will make 
Some scruple in your conscience to grant it. 

Luke. Conscience ! no, no ; so it may be doD« 
with safety. 
And without danger of the law. 

Plenty. For that 
You shall sleep securely : nor shall it diminish, 
But add unto your heap such an increase. 
As what you now possess shall appear an aiOTO. 
To the mountain it brings with it. 



40* 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Act. V. 



Luhe. Do not rack me 
Witii expectation. 

Sir John. Thus then in a word : 
The devil — wliy start you at his name? if you 
Desire to wallow in wealth and worldly honours, g 
You must make liaste to be familiar with him,— 
This devil, whose priest 1 am, and by him made 
A deep magician (for I can do wonders), 
Appear'd to me in Virginia, and commanded, 
With many stripes, for that's his cruel custom, 
1 should provide, on pain of his fierce wrath, 
Against the next great sacrifice, at whicK 
We, grovelling on our faces, fall before him. 
Two Christian virgins, that wilii their pure blood 
Mi<>ht dye his horrid altars ; and a third, 
In his hate to such embraces as are lawful, 
Married, and with your ceremonious rites, 
As an oblation unto Hecate, 
And wanton Lust, her favourite. 

Luke. A devilish custom! 
And yet why shoukl it startle me!— There are 
Enough of the sex fit furihis* use ; but virgins. 
And such a matron as you (-peak of, hardly 
To be wroughk to it. 

Pleiitv. A mine of gold, for a fee. 
Waits liim that undertakes it and performs it. 

Sir Mnur. Know you no distressed widow, or 
poor maids. 
Whose want of dower, though well born, makes 

them weary 
Of their own countryf ? 

Sir John. Such as had rather be 
Miserable in another world, than where 
They have surfeited in felicity 1 

Liihe. Give me leave 

I would not lose this purchase. A grave matron I 

[Aiiiie. 
And two pure virgins ! Umph ! I think my sister, 
Though proud, was ever honest ; and my nieces 
Untainted yet. Why should not they be shipp'd 
For this employment ? they are burthensome to me. 
And eat too much ; and if ihey stay in London, 
They will fina friends that to my lo.-^s will force me 
To composition : 'twere a masterpiece, 
If this could be effected. I hey were ever 
Ambitious of title : should I urge, 
Matching with these they shall live Indian queens. 
It niav do much : but what shall 1 feel here. 
Knowing to what they are design'd ? They absent. 
The thought of t'-ein will leave me. It shall be 

so. 

I'll furnish you, and, to endear the service. 
In mine own family, and my blood loo. 

Sir John. Make this good, and your house shall 
not contain 
The gold we'll send you. 

Luki^. You have seen my sister, 
\nd my two nieces ? 

• Enouyh of the sex Jit for Xhh use ;] So tlie old copy, 
ami ri5;litly. The modtrn tditurs tend, /it fur his use. 

♦ Sir M.iiir. Know yniino distri-ssedwidow. or poor maidi, 
'fl^hflsewant of dower, though well born, makes Ihi'm weary 

Of their own comitry ?] I liave sil. ntly returmeil the me- 
tre «>f IMis (and indeed of every other) Play, in innumer- 
able pl.ices: ihe reader, lioweser, may not be nnamused 
with a specimen, now and iIrmi, of the manner In which this 
moAl hartnonioiis poet has been hitlierto piinted. The lines 
above h tlins divided by Coxeler anil Mr. M. Mawn : 
Know you no distressi'd widow, or yonr 
A'.juU. whose want of dower, though wi-ll born, 
jUunts em weary qf their own country I 



Sir John. Yes, sir. 

Luke. 'I'hese jiersnaded 
How happily they shall live, and in what jiomp. 
When they are in your kingdoms, for you muot 
Work them a belief that you are kinys 

Pientij. ^\ e are so. 

Luke, ill put it in practice instantly*. Study yo 
For moving language. Sister! Nieces! 

Enter Lady FnucAL, Anne, and Marv. 

How ! 

Still mourning ! dry your eyes, and clear these 

clouds 
That do obscure your beauties. Did you bjlieve 
My personated reprehension, though 
It sliow'd like a rough anger, could be serious? 
Forget the fright I put you in : my end, 
In humbling jou, was to set off the height 
Of honour, [irincipal honour, which my studie.s. 
When you least expect it, shall confer upon you ! 
Still you seem doubtful : be not wanting to 
Yourselves, nor let the strangeness of the means, 
With the shadow of some danger, render you 
Incredulous. 

L. Frvg, Our usage haih been such. 
As we can faintly hope that your intents 
And language are the same. 

Luke. I'll change those hopes 
To certainties. 

Sir John. With what art he winds about them . 

Luke. What will you say, or «'jar thanks shall I 
luck for, 



• tiuke. /'ll put it in practice instantly.] Hitherto 
the character of Luke has been supported with nialclilcss 
judsjment and ilexterity ; the pre^eMt desiijn, l)ovvev« r, of 
s.icriticin^ his brother's wile and ilanghiers to Lust and 
Hecate has always struck the tritics as unnainral and iin 
probable in ihe highest degne. "Bloody, indeed, it is, 
but is it out of charai ter ( Luke is the cr atine of no or- 
dniiiry hand, and he who <-ondncled him thus far with such 
unexampled skill, was litt e likely to deseit him at the 
end. it aiipears that Mas.-ini^er was desirous of showing, 
in the person of Luke, tl e hideons poitrailiire of avarice 
personitiid. The love of nionty is the ruling pa.-^sion of 
ids sou!; it gathers sirengiii with indulgence; and the pcos- 
p. rt of ^uch unbounded wealth as is here held out to him, 
is properly calculated to overcome the fear of law, and the 
remonstrances of the few scruples of conscience wliich yet 
torment him. 

History furnishes exanip'e* of men who have sacrificed 
friends, kindred, all, to the distant view of wealth; sad 
\vc miuht have known, wMliout t e instance of Luxe, that 
avarice, while it depraves the feelings, eiiferbles the judg- 
ment, and lendeis its votaries at once credulous and un- 
natural. 

With respect to another objection wliich has been raised, 
that " Luke is too much of a man of the worl I to be so 
gros-ly i.nposed upon," it is more easily obviated. Instead 
of ijoiiig back to the ajje of the poet, we inconsiderately 
bring him forward to onr own, anil invest him with all our 
knowledge. This is an evil as common as it is griev.'us. 
Th.il the Indians do not worship the devil, we know; but 
did iVIassingcr know iff Our old writers partook of the 
geneial credulity, and believed the wonders they told ; they 
would not else have told them so well. All the first disco- 
verers of America were themselves fully persuaded, and 
earnestly laboured to persuade others, that the natives wor- 
shipped llie devil. Bvery shapeless block, every rude stone 
p.iiiilully battered by the poor savages into a distant resem- 
blance of animated nature, and therefore pri/,ed by tlienii 
was, by their more savage visitors, taken lor a represen- 
tation of some misshapen fiend to whom they ollered hu- 
man sacritices : nay, so rooted. was this opinion, that the au- 
thor of the New Unyllth Canaan (printed not many year* 
before this pla> ), a man well <lisposed towards the Indians, 
sajs, " some correspondency ihey have wiih the devil, out 
of all doubt' I (p. 3-1.) and, indeed, I scarcely know a 
wri er of Massinger's time who was not of U>e same belief 



Scene II.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



409 



If now I raise you to such eminence, as 
The wife and daugliters of'a citizen 
Never arrived at ! many, for their wemUh, I grant, 
Have written l.idies of honour, and some few 
Have higher titles, and that's the furtliest rise 
You can in England hope for. \Vhat think you 
If I should mark you out a way to live 
Queens in another climate? 

Avne. We desire 
A competence. 

Mary. And prefer our country's smoke 
Before outlandish fire. 

L. Frug. But should we listen 
To such impossibilities, 'tis not in 
The power of man to make it good. 

Luke. I'll do it: 
Nor is this seat of majesty far remored ; 
It is but to Virginia. 

L. Frug. How! Virginia! 
High heaven forbid ! Remember, sir, I beseech you, 
What creatures are shipp'd thither. 

Anne. Condemned wretches. 
Forfeited to the law. 

Marti. Strumpets and bawds, 
For the abomination of their life, 
Spew'd out of their own country. 

Luke. Vour false fears 
Abuse my noble purposes. Such indeed 
Are sent as slaves to labour there, but you 
To absolute sovereignty. Observe these men. 
With reverence observe them ; they are kings of 
Such spacious territories and dominions, 
As our Great liritain measured will appear 
A garden to it. 

Sir Maur. You shall be adored there 
As goddesses. 

Sir John. Your litters made of gold, 
Supported by your vassals, proud to bear 
The burthen on their shoulders. 

Plentif. Pomp and ease. 
With delicates tliat Europe never knew, 
Like pages shall wait on you. 

Luke. If you have minds 
To entertain the greatness offer'd to you. 
With outstretched arms, and willing hands embrace 

it- 

But this refused, imagine what can make you 
Most miserable here, and rest assured. 
In storms it falls upon you : take them in. 
And use your best persuasion. If that fail, 
I'll send them aboard in a dry fat. 

[Exeunt all but Sir John Frugal and Luke. 

Sir John. Be not moved, sir ; 
We'll work them to your will. Yet, ere we part. 
Your worldly cares deferr'd, a little mirth 
Would not misbecome us. 

Li'ke You say well : and now 
It comes into my memory, 'tis <Sy birthday, 
Which with solemnity 1 would observe, 
But that it would ask cost. 

Sir John, i'hat shall not grieve you. 
By my art I will prepare you such a feast, 
, As Persia, in her height of pomp and riot. 
Did never e()ual ; and such ravishing music 
As the Italian princes seldom heard 
At their greatest entertainments. A ame your guests. 

Luke. I must have none. 

Sir John. Not the city senate? 

Luke. No ; 



Nor yet poor neighbours : the first would argue ma 

Of foolish ostentation, and the latter 

Of too much hospitality ; a virtue 

Grown obsolete, and useless. I will sit 

Alone, and surfeit in my store, while others 

With envy pine at it : my genius pamper'd 

With the thought of what I am, and what they 

suffer 
I have mark'd out to misery. 

Sir John. You shall : 
And something I will add you yet conceive not. 
Nor will I be slow-paced. 

Luke. I have one business, 
And that dispatch'd I am free. 

Sir John. About it, sir. 
Leave the rest to me. 

Ltike. Till now I ne'er loved magic. [Eieunf 



SCENE II. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter Lord Lacv, Goldwire senior, and Traoewell 

senior. 

L Litcu. Believe me, gentlemen, I never was 
So cozen'd in a fellow. He disguised 
Hypocrisy in such a cunning shape 
Of real goodness, that I would have sworn 
This devil a saint. 'M. Goldwire, and M. Trade- 
well, 
What do you mean to do? Put onf. 

Gold. With your lordship's favour. 

L. Lacy. I'll have it so. 

Trade. Your will, my lord, excuses 
The rudeness of our manners. 

L. Lacy. You have received 
Penitent letters from your sons, I doubt not* 

Trade. They are our only sons. 

Gold. And as we are fathers. 
Remembering the errors of our youth. 
We would pardon slips in them. 

Trade. And pay for them 
In a moderate way. 

Gold. In which we hope your lordship 
Will be our mediator. 

L. Lacy. All my power 

Enter Luke. 

You freely shall command ; 'tis he ! You are well 

met, 
And to my wish, — and wonderous brave! yotu 

habit 
Speaks you a merchant royal. 

Luke. What I wear, 
I take not upon trus.t 

L. Lacy. Your betters may, 
And blush not for't. 

Luke. I f you have nought else with me 
But to argue that. I will make bold to leave you. 
L. Lacy. You are very peremptory ; pray yott 
stay : 
I once held you an upright honest man. 

Ltike. I am honester now 
By a hundred thousand pound, I thank my stars 

for't, 
Upon the Exchange ; and if your late opinion 

• M. Goldwire, and M. Tradetvell,] Sm 

Act IV., sc. iii. 

t Put on.] i. e. be coverrdr aia cx(-fc» 

elon that f!'equ«ntl> ociurs. 



404 



THE CITY MADAM, 



[Act V 



Be aller'd, wlio cnn help it? Good my lord, 
To the point ; 1 have other business than to talk 
Of honesty, and opinions. 

L. Lacij. Yet you may 
Do well, if you please, to show the one, and merit 
The other from good men, in a case that now 
Is offer'd to yi u. 

Luke. Wlv.it is it? I am troubled. 

L. Lacit. Mere are two gentlemen, the fathers of 
Your brother's prentices. 

Lnhe. Mine, my lord, I take it. 

L. Lacu- Goldwire, and Tradewell. 

Luke. J'hey are welcome, if 
lliey come prepared to satisfy the damage 
I have sustain'd by their sons. 

Gold. We are, so you please 
To use a conscience. 

Trade. Which we hope you will do. 
For your own worship's sake. 

Luke. Conscience, my friends. 
And wealth, are not always neighbours. Should I 

part 
With what the law gives me, I should suffer mainly 
In my reputation ; for it would convince me 
Of indiscretion : nor will you, I hope, move me 
To do myself such prejudice. 

L. Lacy. No moderation ? 

Luke. I luy cannot look for't, and preserve in me 
A thriving citizen's credit. Your bonds lie 
For your sons' truth, and they shall answer all 
'I'hey have run out : the mas'ers never prosper'd 
Since gentleinen's sons grew prentices : when we 

look 
To have our business done at home, tliey are 
Abroad in tlie tennis-court, or in Partridge-alley, 
In Lamheth iMarsh, or a cheating ordinary, 
Where 1 found your sons. 1 have your bonds ; 

look to't. 
A thousand pounds apiece, and tliat will hardly 
Repair my losses. 

L. Lacji. I'hou dar'st not show thyself 
Such a devil ! 

Luke. Good words. 

L. Laci]. Such a cut-throat ! I have heard of 
The usage of your brother's wife and daughters ; 
You shall find you are not lawless, and that your 

monies 
Cannot justily your villanies. 

Luke. I endure this. 
And, good my lord, now you talk in time of monies, 
Pay in what you owe me. And give me leave to 

wonder 
Your wisdom should have leisure to consider 
The business of these gentlemen, or my carriage 
To my sister, or my nieces, being yourself 
So mucli in my danger*. 

L.Lacy. In thy danger? 

Luke. Mine. 
I find in my counting-house a manor pawn'd, 
Pawn'd, my good lord ; Lacy manor, and that 

manor 
From which you have the title of a lord. 
An it please your good lordship ! You are a noble- 
man ; 
Pray you pay in my monies : the interest 
Will eat faster in't, than aquafortis in iron. 
Now though you bear me hard, I love your lordship. 

• So much III iny danger.] i. e. in my dtbt. See Fatal 
Dowry, Act. I. ec. ii. 



I grant your person to be jirivileged 

From all arrests ; yet there lives a foolish creature 

Call'd an under-sheritF, who, being well-paid, will 

serve 
An extent* on lords or lowns' land. Pay it in , 
1 would be loth your name should sink, or ihat 
Your hopeful son, when he returns from travel, 
Should find you my lord-without-land. You are 

angry 
For my good cousel: look you to your bonds ; had 

1 known 
Of your coming, believe't, I would have had Ser- 
jeants ready. 
Lord, how you fret ! but that a tavern's near 
You should taste a cup of muscadine in my house. 
To wash down sorrow ; but there it will do better ; 
I know you'll drink a health to me. [Ej«t, 

L, Lacj/. To thy damnation. 
Was there ever such a villain! heaven forgive me 
For speaking so unchristianly, though he deserves it. 
Gold. VVe are undone. 
Trade. Our families quite ruin'd. 
L.Lacy. Take courage, gentlemen ; com fort may 
appear. 
And punishment overtake him, when he least ex- 
pects it. [^Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — Another Boom m the same. 
Enter Sir John Fhugal and Holdfast. 

Sir .John. Be silent on your life. 

Hold. 1 am o'erjoyed. 

Sir John. Are the pictures placed as I direct^ed ? 

Hold. Yes, sir. 

Sir John. And the musicians ready ? 

Hold. All is done 
As you commanded. 

■Sir John, [at the door.'] Make haste ; and be 
careful ; 
You know your cue, and postures? 

Plenty, [wilhin.] We are perfect. 

Sir John. "J"is well : the rest are come too ? 

Hold. And disposed of 
To your own wish. 

5'jr John. Set forth the table: So! 

Enter Servants with a rich banquet. 
A perfect banquet. At the ufper end. 
His chair in state ; he shall feast like a prince. 

Hold, And rise like a Dutch hangman. 

Enter Luke. 

■Sir John. Not a word more. 

How like you the preparation ? Fill your room. 
And taste the cates ; then in your thought consider 
A rich man, that lives wisely to himself, 
In his full height of glory. 

Luke. I can brook 
No rival in this haj)pines5. How sweetly 
These dainties, when unpaid for, please my palate ! 
Some wine. Jove's nectar 1 brightness to the star 
That governed at my birth ! shoot down thy in- 
fluence, 
And with a perpetuity of being 
Continue this felicity, not gained 
By vows to saints above, and much less purchased 



* i4n extent on lords orlowns' land.] To exti-nd, as baj 
been alriady observed, is a li'^al term for "laying an ex 
eciitioii on." Tims Sliadwell, in The I'irttiasn: 

" Niece, triy land in the eouutry is extruded, and til my 
goods seiited ou." 



8«KS III.] 



THE CITY MADAM. 



405 



By thriving' industry ; nor frtllen upon me 

As a rewjird to jiieiy, and religion, 

Or service lo inv countrv : 1 owe all 

'J his to dissiiiiiilHtion. and the biiape 

I wore of goodness. Let my brotlier number 

His beads devoutly, and believe liis alms 

To beggars, liis comjiassion to his debtors, 

Will wing his better part, disrobed of flesh, 

To soar above the firmament. 1 am well ; 

And so 1 surfeit here in all abundance, 

Though styled a cormorant, a cut-throat, Jew, 

And prosecuied with ihe fatal curses 

Of widows, undone orphiiiis, and what else 

Such as malign my slate caa load me with, 

I will n t envy it. You promised music. 

Sir Joliii. And you shall hear the strength and 
power of if, 
The spirit of Orpheus raised tr make il good. 
And ill those ravishing- strains wiih which he moved 
Charon iind Cerberus to give him way 
Tofetcii tiom hell his lost Eur\dice. 
Appear ! swifter than thought ! 

ilitsic. Enter at one door, Cerlfrui, at the other, 
Charon, Orpiieus, and Chorus, 

Luke. ' lis wonderous strange! 

Sir John. Does not the object and the accent fake 

you ? 
Luke. A pretty fable*. 

\^Eieu>it Orpheus and the rest. 

Hut that music should 
Alter in fiends their nature, is to me 
Impossible; since in myself I find, 
What I have once decreed shall know no change. 

Sir John. You are constant to your purpose-s ; yet 
I think 
Tbat I could stagger you. 

Luke. How! 

Sir John. Should 1 jiresent 
Your servants, debtors, and the rest that sufter 
By your tit severity, 1 presume the sight 
Would move you to compassion. 

Luke. Not a mote. 
The music that vnur Orpheus made w-as harsh, 
To the delight 1 sluiuld receive in hearing 
Their cries and groans : if it be in your power, 
I would now see llit-m. 

Sir John. Spiriis, in their shapes. 
Shall show them as they are : but if it should move 
yon .' — 

Luke. If it do,mav I ne'er find pity! 

■Sir John. Be your own judge. 
Appear! as 1 commanded. 

Sad Music. Enter Gdluwiiie jitnior, and riiAnF.wn.r, 
ju)iior, as from ])risi>ii ; FonTi'NE, llovsr, lunt 
PrMMiV ; Serjeant!, trih TitADEWH.i. senurr, and 
Goi DWiiiE senior; — >lheiseJoUowed hif Siiavi-.'e.m, in 
ablne^oan , Hicwv-T and OiNo'tM ; ihi-i) all kneel 
to 1a"kk, Ujtin^ 11]) their liundi. '&i,\\ cxi.\L is seen 
with a pack uj almanucki, and Mii.LisctNT. 



• From this it appears lliat llie fable <if Orpluiis and 
Eurjdice was ailed in dninb slmw. Few oi' ^l.l^^illge.'a 
plays an- wirlidiit an iiiUrlrrde of some kind or oilnr-. 

t SHAvr'.'ii« in a blue gown,] i. e. in iln- livi-ry i.f Hride- 

wrll. Il apiH-ars fn.ni n-any passasi<s in old |'la\s, 

p,)rri.?iil.irl_N rionill-.e fecmid (i.n-l of Decker's Iloiu-st ll'hore, 
that this «.is viie dress in winch piosimites were coinpellud 
to do penance there. eyn 



Ltike. — Ha, ha, ha I 
This move me to compassion, or raise 
One sign of seeming pity in my face! 
You are deceived : it rather renders me 
More flinty and obdurate. A south wind 
Shall sooner .-often marble, and the rain, 
That slid s ilown gently from his flaggy wings 
O'erflow the Alps, than knees, or tears, ur groans 
Shall wrest corn|iunction from me. ' I'is my glory 
That they are wretched, and by me made so : 
It sets my happiness off: 1 could not triumph 
If these were not my ca|itives. — Ha ! my tarriers, 
As it appears, have seized on liiese old toxes, 
As I gave order; new addition lo 
My scene ot m.r.h : ha, ha! — they now grow 

tedious. 
Let them be removed. 

[Exeunt Gold, and the rest. 

Some other object, if 
Your art can show it. 

Sir John. You -shall perceive 'tis boundless. 
Y'et one thing- real, if \ou please ! 
Luke.- \\ iiat is It \ 

Sir John \vnv nieces, ere they jiUt to sea, crave 
humbly. 
Though ab.si nt in their bodies, they may take leava 
Of their late ^uitors' statues. 

Enter Lad II Khuoai,, Anne, ohi/ Mahv. 

Luke. There lliev h;ing ; 
In things inditl'erent. 1 am MMctable. 

Sir John. I lieie pav your vows, you have liberty, 
Anne. O sweet lignie 
Ofray abuseil Laci*! when renioveil 
Into another world, IM daiiy pay 
A sacrifice of sighs (o thy reineiiihrance ; 
And with a shower of te.^rs strive to waih off 
Ihe stain ofili.it contempt my loolish pride 
And insolence tlireiv upon ihee. 

Mary. 1 Inid b. en 
Too hajipv, il 1 ha. I eiiji.iyed the substance; 
But far uiiwortlrv of n, imw 1 liill 
I'hus prost v e to I by statue, 

L. Frug. .\ly kind husband 
(BlessM 111 my nnsi ly), fioin the monastery 
'lo which mv disobedience confined ihee. 
With thy soul's eye, w hicli vii.-lance cannot hinder. 
Look on my |ieiiiience. (t, that 1 could 
Call back tune [.ast I thy hoK vow dispensed, 
With what humiliiy would 1 observe 
My lono--iieglec ed duty ! 

iS't'r John. Dues nut this move you ! 

LiiAe. Yes, as they do the statues, and ber sor- 
row 
My absent brother. If, hv your magic art. 
You can give life to these, or bring liiin hither 



* Anne. O sweet Jii/nre 

t)f my liehwiil l.aii/!] I'lui-e is some diihciilty in under 
standiiiu Ihe nncli miain ot'thi^ scene. M.i-!in,ei, like hif 
coiiteliiporar il s, loiiii.iiiids statue «ilh pieline, and lhi« 
creates coiiiu-ion ; — it seems as if Lacy and I'h'iiiy, by 
some conn name behind, stood wilhin the frames, and 
in liie exart 'irosand aititniks of th. ii |-ispccii\e portraits, 
whiiii Sn- John appiar- to li.ive proinied. .in<i Inn.t; up in 
the baik p.o t •( the romii ; Iror.-i whence, at a pi-ccon- 
cerliil si<;i,.i!, liny ilesceiid, .ind i-o.nt loruard. 'I'lie dirfc- 
li'ii, in llie (|iiaiio, i.", I linty and Lacy renilii hehind. Tin 
atleinpt lo inaik lire staiie ai i.ni-.;'-mi-i.t- of lliis inieresting 
scene will, I hope, be received with thit iiidul;;. nee to wbicl^ 
from Ihe ui.tihil as.-i-l.nr e atloided by tli. old cupiei, i 
i', in some ineasuie.euliiied. 



•d6 



THE CITY MADAM. 



[Act. V 



To witness her repentance, 1 may have, 
Perchance, some feeling; ot it. 

Sir John, I-or yotir spoit 
You sliall see a master-piece. Here's nothing but 
A superficies ; colours, and no substance. 
Sit still, and to your wonder and amazement, 
I'll give these organs. This tlie sacrifice 
To make the great work perfect. 

[_Mahes mi/sfiad gcsliciilutioiis. Sir Maurice 
Lucy and Plenty give signs of animalion, 

Ltike. Prodigious ! 

Sir John. Nay, tliey have life, and motion. De- 
scend ! 

\_Sir Maurice Lacy and Plenty descend and comt 
forward. 

And for your absent brolher, — this wash'd off, 
Against your will you shall know him. 

Enter Lor'i Lacy, tv'ith Goldwirf, senior and junior, 
Tradkwell senior and junior, the Debtors, <5)'c. &^c. 

Luhe. I am lost. 
Guilt strikes me <himb. 

Sir Jiilni. You have, seen, my lord, the pageant? 

L. Lacu- 1 liave, and am ravish'd with it. 

Sir John. \\ hat think vou now 
Of tliis clear soul ? this honest pious man? 
Have 1 stripp'd him bare, or will your lordship have 
A further trial of him ? ' lis not in 
A wolf to change his nature. 

L. Lacy, 1 Ion',;- since 
Conft-ss'd my error. 

Sir John, hookup; I forgive ycu. 
And seal \oiir pardims ilius. 

[Enihni e< Lady frugal, Anne, and Mary. 

L. Frng. I am too full 
Of joy to sjieak if. 

Anne. 1 am another creature ; 
Not wiiat f was. 

Marif. I vow to show mvself. 
When 1 am married, an humble wife. 
Not a commanding mistress. 

Plentu. (Jn those terms, 
1 gladly tiiiis embrace you. [To Mary. 

Sir Mum-. \Vt Icome to 
My bosom : a^ tiie one half of myself, 
I'll love and chi rish you. [To Anne. 

Gold.jiin. Mtrry ! 

Trade, juit. ami the rest. Good sir, mercy ! 

Sir John. '1 Ins day is sacred to it. All shall find 
me, 
As far as lawfid jiity can give wav to'f. 
Indulgent to your wishes, though with loss 
* Unto myself. I\ly kind and honest brother, 

Lookmg into yourself, have you seen the Gorgon? 

What a gid<len dieamyou haveiiad in the possession 

Of my estate! — but here's a revmaiion 

That wakes you out of it. Monster in nature ! 

Revengeful, avaricious atheist. 

Transcending all example ! — but I sliall be 

A sharer in 'hy crimes, sh luUl 1 repeat them— 

What wilt thou do' turn hvi«icrire again, 

With hope dis-imulation can aid thee? 

Or that one eye wdl shed a tear in sign 

Of sorrow for thee? 1 have warrant to 

Make bold with mine own, pray jou uncase: this 

key too 
I must make bold with. Hide thyself in some de- 
sert, 



Where good men ne'er may find thee ; or in justice 
Pack to Virginia, and repent ; not for 
Those hoi rid ends to which thou didst design 
these. 
Luke. I care not where I go; what's done, with 
words 
Cannot be undone. 

[Exit. 
L. Frug. Yet, sir, show some mercy 
Because his cruelty to me and mine 
Did good upon us. 

Sir John. Of that at better leisure. 
As his penitency shall work me. Make you 

good 
Vour promised reformation, and instruct 
Our city dames, whom wealth makes proud, to 

move 
In their own spheres ; and willingly to confess. 
In their habits, manners, and their higliest port, 
A distance 'twixt the city and the court. 

[E.\ennt*, 



* Every friend to the reputation of iMLfsintcr innst 
clierisli the reineiiibrance of iliis Play. It t.\li.biis iqual 
power of tlioiiulit anil copiousness of matter, 'llie iii(aun- 
stantial deiail of tlic manners of llie age (thoui;li soiue part 
of it is to be legretled), ihe impression wiili uliicli the 
moral lessons are convejed, anil llie siion;; inciilints with 
whicli llie scenes alioimd, fill the mind widi vaiiriy of 
excellence. It is a powerful and a piegnaM coiiip".Mlion, 
and h.is the etiect of history, satire, and comedy uuitnl. 

The object of the Play is form dly sla cd al llie conclusion: 
but it is i.bservable, (h.H the pirson who inci lent.ill) par- 
takes in the promotion of it, becomes Ihe ino.-l miiked 
character, and ob>cai'es those who are origin. illy oncirned. 
The ertect is stioii>;er Miroiiyh its own siiipiie; .i. d Ihe 
address of Massingcr is p oved in proportion as he pro- 
duces so important an ageiiry from so indirect a pimiiise. 
There is anotlier mark of his address. 'I'lie i r.d rli.iricter 
of Luke is unusually .suspended; and even wlirii sii-|iicion 
begins, It is bal meed by a new connivance of iigiid. The 
final disclosure ol the vill.iiii becomes, in this Insi.iiice too, 
more striUiii!,', ihion^h ibe previmis concealiuei.t, .in I we 
liale him ihe more on account of the good opiiiiin «!■ have 
wasted upon liiin. 'J'lie cha'acter of l.nke is so predominant 
that it will desi rvcs tlie particid.ir attention of Ihe nailer. 

He Is origin. dly st It' in.'lulgeiil, idle, riotous, pii.iligal, 
and vicious; siipp rieil b> lii> brother, he appiais |.i ..iteiit, 
pious, nniisiially humble, compassionate, cli.n ii.be, and 
draws iniiih of oiir pily and isteein. When he Ii.mi.s < f hii 
supposed fuitiinc, he assumes the most iniposii;.; Inpiciisy, 
otters pK.tccli'ii ih.it he may betray. Calks of Ui.jil.'ii- s, that 
he may be tin illy seveio, and masks a deciiUd t. nelly with 
the most deciiUul promises of liberality. Kveiy u-iiaint 
being at leii^ib removed, the appearance of his luit iielinj 
is hangeil into a savaiie and iViocioiis avari.-,e; his glossy 
deceit become.s aviiwed and daring villany : he is iiisulent, 
oppressive, iiis.itiibl , ob,lurate, inexorabie, and imidous. 
Tlie character i» true, Ihoiigli some of its parts are opijo^ife. 
riie sutteriiig> from his former profusenrss, and peiliaps the 
exhaustion of its pleu-iires, might well piep.ne h in for 
future avarice: nor are siieh ch.iiiges itiifieipieia in ei iiimon 
life. Hi» intermediate show of goodness is ea>ily rer. nciled 
with llo- unextinguished vicioiisness of his mind. Hil 
peiiJteiKC is deceit, his piely is hypocrisy, bis sirange 
liiimiliiy an inbred b.iseiiess, ,iiid his talk of libi i.ility a 
gemiiiie ilisiegard of money that is not his o.vn. — In hoit, 
Ihe eliaractei is at once boll and natural, and u d> scribed 
wiih miciiiniiion art and etiVct 

'I'lie . Ihei ih.iracicrs lose part rf their importance through 
the ascendency of l.iik"'. Yit the wouicii aie will repre- 
sented ; and thiir ignorance and vuigaiily, llo ii ailmira- 
tion of the unintelligible jaruon of Slarga/c, .iii.l lln ii- con- 
lenieil fors:etfuliies» of l''nigal amiiUt the lieu pioiui-es of 
Luke, are very amusing. Nor is the oiitiagei'Us tre.iincnt 
of the suit. us unnatural, though ihe desire o! getiiij- Ihem 
as husbands iiiighl have been i-xpicted to Ic.icli some c.iutioii. 
It appears ili.ii ihe predictions of Starg.ize h.il cmiviiicrd 
them ol Ihe ceriaiii sub.iiinsioii of Lacy, ^c , and therefore 
caution was iiniiecessaiy. The unextmplid iiii|Mideiice of 
Ihe deni.iiiils is only expliined liy ilie blind erei'ulity of the 
niolher. Si.irg.ize himself is hiimoiously tiealril. In 'I'ht 
Pictuit, Sophia speaks with all the seriousness of leligioB 



TH£ CITY MADAM. 



«0f 



ugainst tlie pr;ntice of magic. Ridicnlf alone U bc-towid 
on judicial Hstr(>Ioi;y. Afir various railiiius and renewals 
of credit, the wrclciied prolessor is driven otf the siaj;e, dis- 
gra'.ed, poor, bealon, and, worse than all, compelled to 
acknowkdi^e the futililj of his art. In the niidit of this 
excellence, (here is an inadvertence not wholly unimportant. 
The moral purpose of the play is accomplished, even upon 
moral principles, by its inosi flagitious character. Luke is 
a declared villain, and a reformer t.>o! He allows revenge 
to be the motivi of his cri;elty, yet he rises up a " new 
satirist" aiiains-t the vires of the eiiv!— It is obvious that 
Massiiiger has forgot himoelf. He has confounded in the 
•aiiie person his own general and paliiolic viewj with the 



private malice of Luke: and in Ihij mixture of de.«i;:i, 
Luke talks alternatively for himself and for the poet ! 

All iiistrurtive moral yet remains to be drawn ironi the 
apparent Inmilily of Luke. It is the excess of this quality 
which gives the reader the first suspicion of hypocrisy. 

We must not administer to the follies or vices ot ollic/i 
by a base subserviency ; nor must we console the dissjrare o/ 
present submission with the prospect of futme ri-ven;;e. 
Humilily. well understood, has true purity and Inic eleva- 
tion. It raises Uf. al)ove all moral meanness; and, wliilc it 
prescribes an unatticcd lowliness of service, it (lii;nFiie« lh» 
obscniist actions through the principle frujn whicii ilivy 
flow. TDn. iRitr^ANu. 



THE GUARDIAN. 



Tub GuahdiaV.] This " Comical History" was licensed by the Master of the Revels, October Slst, 
1G33 ; but not printed till 1655, wlien it was put to the press, together with The Baahful Lover, and 7^« 
Very Womait, by Humi)hrey Rloseley, the general publisher of that age. 

Its plot is singularly wild and romantic ; the most interesting and probable part of it is, pprhaps, the 
poet's own; the incident of lolante nnd Calipso is borrowed. The original tale is in The Heeiopadrs ; 
whence it was transferred to the Fubles of Pilpny ; it was translated into Greek about the end of the 
■■eleventh century, by Simeon Seth, a learned Orientalist ; and thus fouy.d its way into Latin, and made a 
part of those quaint collections of ribald morality, which, in Massinger's time, were in every one's hands. 
A sneer at miracles was not likely to escape the wits of Italy ; it was therefore inserted by Boccaccio in his 
D^famero/j, where it is but poorly fold. Beaumont and Fletcher l)aye introduced it' with some degree ot 
dexterity into the plot of Women Pleased ; and it has been versified (from a translation of the Sanscrit) with 
exquisite humour, by my ingenious friend ftlr. Hoppner. 

It would be a miserable waste of time to examine from what specific work Massinger derived an adven* 
ture which probably existed in a hundred different publications, and which was scarcely worth the picking 
up any where : those, however, who wish for more on the subject, may consult the late Mr. Hole's liemarht 
in the Arabian Nights EiUertainments. 

This popular Drama was produced at the "Private-house in Black-fryors." From a memorandum m 
the Office-book of Sir Henry Herbert, we learn, that, shortly after its appearance, it was acted before the 
king. " The Guardian, a play of Mr. Massinger's, was performed at court on Sunday the 12 January, 
1653, by the king's players, and well likte." MaLue's Historical Account of the Englnh Sia^e. 



PROLOGUE. 



After twice putting forth to sea*, his fame 
Shipwrecked in eitliert,and his once-known name 
In two years' silence buried , periiaps lost 
In the general opinion ; at our cost 
( \ zealous sacrifice to Neptune made 
For good success in his uncertain trade) 



* After Iwir.e piitlin// forth. Sec] I scarcely know wlie- 
tlier 1 iiii(kT.»t.iii(l this rigli'ly or not, bnl it setnisto nietlirit 
the ()la>ers alliule lo two piftes of Masfinsjtr, wliioli weie 
coiideimiid on llie first rcprt'ScnlHlion. Tliis ill foriune Hp- 
pcirs to ha\(.' induced llie modest poet to give up all fur- 
ther ill: n^lit- of willing for llie staue; the pUyeis, however, 
who knrw his worth, prevailed on him to try his fate once 
more; and lo obviate his objeclions t.i the uutertainly of 
popular tavoiir, purchased Ihe piece (Uitri:;ht : tlii>, indTd, 
was no UMCoiiiiiii.il circumstance. The event pioved that 
they had made no wrong estimate of his talent^, fur 'J'he 
Gtiardia/i is said to "have been ofleii acted with yient ap- 
plause " 

A dilficnliy yet remains. The prolojiue speaks of two 
years' sllmce, \<l The City Madam was licensed on llie 
25th of iMay, KiHi, and llie present Comical Hi>tor>, on liie 
Usl d.cy of Uclobei in the folluwiiig )ear, an interval <;f I'li- 
•y seveiiieeii uioiilhs: hut. perhaps, accuracy of computation 
IS uot to be lookea for in these oceasion.il prod actions. 
Iiisfatiie 

Shipwi-fclt'd ii'i fU\ivr,] Mr. M. Mason ch.io.-esto read, in 

neithfi'. but, according to his usual cuftc as-iuns no read 

ton 111! llie vaii.itiou, lhiins;li it be iiii| oi t.iiil eiu.ui;h lo re- 
|uUe one. as it makes the passa;;e arrant uuii.-enne. 



Our author weighs up anchors, and once more 

Forsaking the security of the shore, 

Resolves to prove his fortune : what 'twill be, 

Is not in him, or us, to prophesie; 

Vou only can assure us : yet he prayed 

Ibis little in his absence might be said, 

l>esigning me his orator. He submits 

To the grave censure of those abler wits 

His weakness ; nor dares he profess that when 

The critics laugh, he'll laugh at tliem agen. 

(Strange self-love in a writer !) He would know 

His errors as you find them, and bestow 

His future studies to reform from this, 

What in another miglit he jinlged amiss. 

And yet despair not, gentlemen ; thouib he fea! 

His strengtlis to please, we hope tiiatyou shall hear 

Some tilings so writ, as you may truly say 

He liath not quite forgot to make a play, 

As 'tis with malice rumoured : iiis intents 

Are fair ; and though he want the compliments 

Of wide-mouth'd jiromisers, who still engage, 

hefore their works are brought upon ilie stage, 

'I'lieir parasites to proclaim tliem : this last hirth, 

Deliver'd witiiout noise, may yield such mirth. 

As, balanced eiitmlly, will crv dow;; the boast 

Of arrogance, and regain liis credit lost. 



SOBKE I.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



AtPHONSO, king of Naples. 

Duke RIoNTPF.Nsiiin, ge/ieraZo/" Milan. 

Severing, « banished nohLeman. 

MoNTECLAno, }iis lirolhei-in-law (^supposed dead), dis- 

giiiied under the name of Laval. 
DuRAzzo, 'I'lie Guardiiin. 

Caldoho, his nephew and ward, in love xeith Calista. 
Adorio, a y"uiig Libertine, 
Camillo, ^ 
Lentulo, > Neapolitan gentlemen. 

DONATO, J 

Cario, cook to Adorio. 

SCENE — Partly at Naples, and partly in the adjacent country 



Claudio, a confidential servant to Severino. 

Captain. 
Bunditti. 
Servants. 

loLANTE, «!J/c to Severino. 

Cai.ista, her davghter,in love with Adorio. 

MiRTiLLA. Calista's maid. 

Caupso, the confidant of' lulante. 

Singers, Countrymen. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— Naples. A Grove. 

Enter Durazzo, Camili.o, Lentulo, Donato, and 

two Servants. 

Dur. 7»I me of liis expenses ! Which of you 
Stands bound for a gjizt^t? he spends his own ; 
And you impertinent fools or knaves (make 

choice 
Of either title, which your signiorships please), 
To meddle in't. 

Cumil. Your age gives privilege 
To this harsh language. 

Dur. My age! do not use 
That word again ; if you do, I shall grow young. 
And swinge you soundly: I would have you know 
Though 1 write fifty odd, 1 do not carry 
An almanack in my bones to pre-declare 
What weather we shall have ; nor do I kneel 
In adoKitioii, at the spring and fall, 
Before my doctor, for a dose or two 
Of his restoratives, wiiich are things, I take it. 
You are familiar with. 

Camit. This is from the purpose. 

Dur. I cannot cut a caper, or groan like you 
When I have done, nor run away so nimbly 
Out of the field : but bring me to a fence-school, 
And crack a blade or two for exercise. 
Ride a baib'd horse, or take a leap after me. 
Following my hounds or hawks (and, by your leave, 
At a gamesome mi.stress), and you shall confess 
1 am in the Way of my abilities, 
And you in your December. 

Lent. We are glad you bear 
Your years so well. 

Dur. My yevirs ! no more of years j 
If you do, at your peril. 

Camil. We desire not 
To prove your valour. 

Dur. 'Tis your safest course. 

Camil. But as friends to your fame and repu- 
tation, 
Come to instruct you : your too much indulgence 
To the exorbitant waste of young Caldoro. i 



Your nepli€w and your ward, hath rendered you 
But a bad report among wise men in Naples. 

Dur. Wise men ! — in your opinion ; but to me 
That understand myself and them, they are 
Hide-bounded money-mongers: they would have 

me 
Train up my ward a hopeful youth, to keep 
A merchant's book; or at the plough, and clothe 

him 
In canvass or coarse c( tton; while I fell 
His woods*, grant leases, which he must make good 
When he comes to age, or be compell'd to marry 
With a cast whore and three bastards; let him 

know 
No more than how to cipher well, or do 
His tricks by the square root; grant him no plea- 
sure 
But quoits and nine-pins; suffer him to converse 
With none but clowns and cobblers : as the Turk 

says. 
Poverty, old age, and aches of all seasons, 
Light on such heathenish guardians ! 

Don. You do worse 
To the ruin of his state, under your favour, 
In feeding his loose riots. 

Dur. Riots 1 what riots ? 
He wears rich clothes, I do so ; — keeps horses, 
games, and wenches ; 

• v<hite I fell 

His woods, pranf leases, «\.c.] Tliis is by no means an cx- 
at:geiiite<l description of llie tyranny which was sometiinei! 
exercised by a guardian over tlie ward «hom law had pal 
into his power. Thus FaJconbridge threatens young Sear 
borow, who had fallen in love without his lonsent; 
" My steward too;— Post you to Yorkshire, 
Where lies my younj;stcr's land : and, sirrah. 
Fell me his wood, make havock, spiiil and waste : 
Sir, you shnll know that yon are ward to me, 
I'll make you poor enough: — then mcnM yourself." 

Miseries of Inforced Marriage. 
Jf'atdship, which was a part of the royal prerogative 
under the leudal sjst-ni, and another n.ime for the most 
oppressive slavery, was happdy abolished under Charles 11. 
Beloie that time wardships were sold, with all llieir advan- 
tiges (which are detailed in Blackstone, Vol. 1 1.), and some- 
times begyed by the favourite courtier of llie day. Our old 
poets are lull of allusions to these iniquitous transactions. 



410 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[Act I 



'Tis not amiss, so it be done with decorum : 
In an heir "tis ten times more excusable 
Than to be over-thrifty. Is tliere aught else 
That you can charge him with ? 

Camil. With what we grieve for, 
And you will not approve. 

Diir. Out witli it, man. 

Camil. His rush endeavour, without your consent. 
To match liimself into a family 
Not gracious with the times. 

Dar. 'I'is still the better"; 
By this means he shall scape court-visitants, 
And not be eaten out of house and home 
In a summer progress •: but does he mean to marry ? 

Camil. Ves, sir, to marry. 

Ditr. Jn a beardless chin 
'Tis ten times worse then wenching. Family ! 
whose family ? 

Camil. Signior Severino's. 

Diir. How! not he that kill'd 
Tlie brother of his wife, as it is rumourM, 
Then fled upon it; since prosirihed, and chosen 
Captain of the banditti ; the king's pardon 
On no suit to be granted ? 

L''iit. The same, sir. 

Ditr. This touches near: howishis love return'd 
P" the Siiint he worships? 

Dim. She affects him not, 
But dotes upon another. 

Did: Worse and worse. 

Camil, \'ou know liim, young Adorio. 

Dar. A brave gentleman ! 
What proof of this T 

Lent. I dogg'd him to the church ; 
W'lierf he, not for devotion, as ] guess. 
But 'o make his a])proaches to his mistress, 
Is ofter seen. 

Camil. And would you stand conceal'd 
Among these trees, for he must pass ibis green, 
Tlie niatins ^nded, as she returus home, 
Yon mav observe the passages. 

Dur. I thank you : 
This torrent must be stopt. 

D.'K. I hey come. 

Camil. Stand close. [T/iei/ rehire. 

Enter Aoonro, Calista, AIitiriLi.A, and Caldoro, 
mujjied. 

Cutis. I know I wrong my modesty. 

Adur. And wrong me. 
In beuig so importunate for that 
I neither can nor must grunt. 

Calls. A hard sentence ! 

• III/ this means he shall trape rourl visitants, 
And not be eaten out of house and home 
Jn a summer protjrfss.] This ^ll^)kc of satire must have 
been picnii.trly \\tll received; as many of ilic gentry liad 
found iliose summer pro<iregsea of llie court almoit loo ex- 
pensive for them to bear. 

Puttenh.im, who was well acquainted with ihcfc matters, 
tells IIS, that Henry VII. was ot1ende<l wilh his host if he 
onderlook to defray "the ehaigc of his dyel if he passed 
moe nieaUs than one." P. 247. And of Klizabelh he says, 
that "her majestie hath been knowne often times to mis- 
like the snpertluoas ex|<pnse of her subjects bestowed upon 
ber in times of her progresses." 

James was not to deliiate; it appears from many scat- 
Icrcd passi><esin the publications of those linies, ihat he 
abii>ed Ihis part of the ro\al prero(;alive lo a great degree, 
and lay heavy upon his subjects. "Charles, who *vas now 
on the Ihrnne, was less biirlheiisoine ; and in the s .cceeding 
reiyii, these predatory eNcursious, together with other op- 
pressive claims of barbarous times, were enljely done 
•way. 



And to increase my misery, by you, 
V\iiom fond affection hath made my judge, 
Pronounced without compassion. Alas, sir, 
.Did I approach you with unchaste desires, 
A sullied reputation ; were deform 'd, 
As it may be 1 am, though many affirm 
I am something more than handsome—— 

Dnr. 1 d;ire swear it. 

Calis. Or if I were no gentlewoman, but breti 
coarsely. 
You might, with some pretence of reason, slight 
What you should sue for. 

Diir. Weie he not an eunuch, 
lie would, and sue again : 1 am sure I should. 
Pray look in my collar, a flea troubles me : 
ilev day ! tliere are a legion of young Cupids 
At barley-break in my breeches. 

Ciilis. 1 lear me, sir; 
Though you continue, nay increase your scorn, 
Only vouchsafe to let me uriderstand 
What my defects are ; of* which once convinced, 
I will hereafter silence my harsh plea, 
And spare your further trouble. 

Adif. I will tell you. 
And bluntly, as my usual manner is. 
Though I were a woman-hater, which I am not. 
But love the sex ; for my ends, take me with you ; 
I fill my thought I found one taint or blemish 
In the whole fabric of vnur outward features, 
I would give myself the lie. You are a virgin 
Possessed of all your mother could wish in you , 
Your father Severini's dire disaster 
In killing of your uncle, which I grieve for, 
In no part taking from you. I repeat it, 
A noble virgin, for whose grace and favours 
The Italian jirintes might contend as rivals : 
Yet unto' me, a thing far, far beneath you 
(A noted libertine 1 profess myself), 
Iti your mind tliere does appear one fault so gross, 
Nay, I iniglit say unpardonable at your years, 
If justly you consider it, tliat 1 cannot 
As you desire, affect you. 

Calis. Make me know it, 
I'll soon relbrm it. 

Adar. Would you'd keep your word ! 

Calls. Put me to the test. 

Ador. 1 will. You are too honest, 
Anil, like your mother, too strict and religious, 
And talk too soon of marriage ; I shall break, 
If at that rate I juirchase you. Can I part with 
My uiKurb'd liberty, and on my neck 
Wear su( h a heavy yokel hazard my fortunes. 
With all the expected joys my iife can yield me. 
For one commodity, before J, prove it? 
Venus forbid on botl. sides >. let crook'd hams. 
Bald heads, declining shoulders, fiirrow'd cheeks. 
Be awed by ceremonies : if vou love me 
In the way younj, people should, I'll fly to meet it: 
And we'll meet merrily. 

Calis. 'i is strange such a man 
Can use such language. 

.4diir. In my tongue my heart 
Speaks freely, fair one. Think on't, a close friend, 
Or private mistress, is court rhetoric ; 
A wife, mere rustic solecism : so good morrow! 

[Adorifl op:if to go, Caldoro comes forward aiM 
stops him. 

Camil. IIo'/ like you this? 
Dur A well-bred' gentleman'. 



Scene I.l 



THE GUARDIAN. 



411 



I am tliinkinof now if ever in tlie dnrk, 
Or drunic, I met his mollier : lie must have 
Some drops of my blood in him, for at Lis years 
I was much of his religion. 

Cam'd. Out upon you ! 

Don. 'I'lie colt's tooth still in your mouth ! 

Dur. What means this whispering? 

Ador, You may perceive I seek not to displant you, 
Where you desire to grow ; for further thanks, 
'Tis needless complitnent. 

CaUl. There are some natures 
Which blush to owe a benefit, if not 
Receiied m corners ; holding it an impairing 
To their own worth, should thev acknowledge it. 
I am made of other clay, and therefore must 
Trench so (at on your leisure, as to win you 
To lend a patient ear, while 1 profess 
Before my glory, though your scorn, Calista, 
How much 1 am youv servant. 

Ador. My designs 
Are not so urgent, but they can dispense 
With so much time. 

Camil. Pray you now observe your nephew. 

Diir. How he looks ! like a school-boy that had 
play'd the truant, 
And went to be breech 'd. 

Cald. Madam! 

Calis. A new affliction : 
Your suit offends as much as his repulse. 
It being not to be granted. 

Milt. Hear him, madam ; 
His sorrow is not personated ; he deserves 
Your pitv, not contempt. 

Dtir. He has made the maid his ; 
And, as the master of The Art of Love 
Wisely affirms*, it is a kind of passage 
To the mistress' favour. 

Cald. I come not to urge 
My merit to deserve you, since you are, 
Weigh'd truly to your worth, above all value : 
Much less 10 argue you of want of judgment 
For following one that with wing'd feet flies from you. 
While J, at all parts, without boast, his equal, 
[n vain pursue you : bringing those flames with me. 
Those lawful flames (for, madam, know with other 
[ never shall approach you), \vhich Adorio, 
In scoin of Hymen and religious rites, 
With atheistical impudence contemns ; 
And in his loose attempt to undermine 
The fortress of your honour, seeks to ruin 
All holv aliars by clear minds erected 
To virgin honour. 

Diir. My nephew is an a?s ; 
What a devil hath he to do with virgin honour, 
Altars, or lawful flames, when he should tell her 
They are superstitious nothings ; and speak to the 

purpose. 
Of the delii;ht to meet in the old dance, 
Between a ])air of sheets; my grandam call'd it 
The Peopliti;^ of the World. 

Cutis. ll«w, gentle sir ! 
To vindicate my honour ? that is needless ; 
1 dare not fear the worst aspersion malice 
Can tlirosv upon it. 

* Anil a? the mastrr of the Art nf Love 
H "neln affirms, &c. 
Mfdijrivs ancillam captandw nnssf ptulliB 

I lira Mil : ai'cesHtis innilint i'la tuns. 
Hanc til pollicitis, hiiiic tti lO-rwnpe rogundo: 
Quod petis,e/acili, si volet illa.JWei. Lib.i. 35j 



Cald. Your sweet patience, lady. 
And more than dove like innocence, render you 
Insensible of an injury, for wliich 
I deeply suffer. Ian you undergo 
The scorn of being refused ! I must confess 
It makes for my ends ; for had he embraced 
Your gracious offers tender'd him. 1 had been 
In my own hopes for.saken ; and if vet 
There can breatlie any air of comfort in me, 
To his contempt I owe it: but his ill 
No more shall make way for my good intents, 
Than virtue, powerful in herself can need 
The aids of vice. 

Ador. You take that license, sir. 
Which vet I never granted. 

Cald. I'il force more ; 
Nor will 1 for my own ends undertake it. 
As 1 will make apparent, but to do 
A justice to your sex, with mine own wrong 
And irrecoverable loss*. 'I'o tliee 1 turn. 
Thou goatish ribald, in whom lust is grown 
Defensiblet, the last descent to hell. 
Which gapes wide for thee: look upon this lady, 
And on her fame (if it wera pos.sible. 
Fairer than she is;, and if base desires 
And beastly appetite will give thee leave. 
Consider how she sought thee: how this lady. 
In a noble way, desired thee. Was she fashion'd 
In an inimitable mould (which Nature broke. 
The great work perfected J), to be made a s-lave 
To thy libidinous twines, and when commanded, 
To be used as physic after drunken surfeits ! 
Mankind s-hauld rise against thee : what even now 
t heard with horror, showed like blasphemy. 
And as such I will punish it. 

[.Strj/tPS Adorio' the rest rush'fortvardi tke^ 
all draw. 

Calis. Murder! 

Mirt. Help! 

Dur. After a whining prologue, who would baT« 
look'd for 
Such a rouiih catastrophe ? Nay, come on, fear 

nothing : 
Never till now my nephew ! and do you hear, sir 
(And yet I love thee too)? if you take the wench 

now, 
I'll have it posted first, then chronicled. 
Thou wert beaten to it. 

Ador. You think you have shown 
A memorable masterpiece of valour 
In doing this in public, and it may 
Perhaps deserve her shoe-string for a favour: 
Wear it without my envy ; but expect 
For this affront, when time serves, I shall call vou 
To a strict accompt. iExit. 

Dur, Hook on, follow him, harpies ! 

• And irrccorerable loss] So the iM copy. A(r. M. 
Mh!^oii discards it from the text, lor an iiiipios'tiiieiit of 
liis own ; he reads, irrevocable .' 

♦ hi whom lus! is grown 

Defensible,! i. c. as Mr. M. Mason i.b'eivcs, an objecJ 

of Ills jn.stitication, rather lh;4n of his sh.ui.e. 

; which \aturebri)' ,-, 

Thegreut work perfected,] We have had il is thought ia 
several iif tile precedins; plays : indeed, I k, i w no iflea s» 
roiniMDM : scarce a sonnetleer or playwright li'^ni Sm rey to 
Slia<lwell heiiig without it. It niu>t have had c<in>ideiable 
cli.iniis in ilie eyes ol Uur (orefat hers, since iiei hi r its triteness 
nor iis f.ry coiild prevent its eternal repetliiun. '/'laitiei, 
wliicli (iccnrs \i the next line, is ctnst.inlly used by the 
writers ol Massinger's time tor eml/races, in a bad sense. 



41S 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[ActI 



Yoji may feed upon this business for a month. 
If you.manage it handsomely : 

\_Eieuiit Camillo, Ltiitulo, and Donaio. 

When two lieirs quarrel*, 
The swordmen of the city shortly alter 
Appear in jilush, for their grave consultations 
In taking up the difference: some, 1 know, 
Make a set living oii't. Nay let hiin go, 
Thou art master of the field : enjoy thy fortune 
With moderation : for a flying foe, 
Discreet and provident conquerors build up 
A bridge of gold, 'lo thy mistress, boy ! if I were 
In thy shirt, how I* could nick it! 

Cali You stand, madiim, 
As you were rooted, and I more than feaf 
My passion hath offended : I perceive 
The roses frighted from your cheeks, and paleness 
To usurj) their room ; yet you may please to ascribe it 
I'o my excess of love, and boundless ardour 
To do you right; for myself I have done nothing. 
I will not curse my stars, howe'er a'^sured 
To me vou are lost for ever : for suppose 
Adorio idain, and by my hand, my life 
Is forfeited to the law, which 1 contemn, 
So with a tear or two yju would remember 
I was your martyr, and died in your service. 

Calis. Alas, you weep! and in my just compassion 
Of wliat you suffer, I were more than marble 
Should I not keep \ou company, you have sought 
My favours nobly, and I am justly punish'd 
In wild Adorio's contempt and scorn, 
For my ingratitude, it is no better. 
To your deservings : yet such is my fate, 
Though I would, 1 cannot help it. O Caldoro! 
In our misplaced affection 1 prove 
Too soon, and vviih dear-bought experience, Cupid 
Is blind indeed, and hath mistook his arrowsf. 
If it be possible, learn to forget 
(And yet that punishment is too light), to hate, 
A thankless virgin : practise it : and may 
Your due consideration that I am so, ' 
In your imagination disperse 
Loathsome deformity upon this face 
'i'hat hath bewitch'd you ! more 1 cannot say, 
But that 1 truly pity you, and wish you 
A better choice, wliich, in my prayers, Caldoro, 
I ever will remember. 

[Exeunt Calista, and Mirtilla, 

Dur. 'Tis a sweet rogue. 
Why, how now ! thunderstruck 1 

Catd. I am not so happy. 
Oh that I were but master of myself, 
You soon should see me nothing. 

Diir. What would you do? 

Cald. With one stab give a fatal period 
To my woes and life together. 

Dur. For a woman ! 
Better the kind were lost, and generation 
Maintain'd a new way. 

Cald. Pray you, sir, forbear 
This profane language. 

I^iir. I'lay you, be you a man, 
And whimper not like a girl : all shall be well. 
As I live it shall ; this is no hectic fever, 

• fVhen two heirs quarrel, &c.] See Maid of Honour, 
Act I. sc. i. 

. t Cupid 

Is blind Indeed, and hath mistook his arrows.] See Virpin 
Muitjr, Act 1. sc. i. 



But a lovesick ague, easy to be cured. 

And I'll be your physician, so you subscribe 

To my directions. First, vou must change 

'J'his city whorish air, for 'tis infected. 

And my potions will not work here ; I must have 

you 
To my country villa : rise before the sun. 
Then make a breakfast of the morning dew, 
Serv'd up by nature on some grassy hill ; 
You'll find it nectar, and far more cordial 
Than cullises, cock-brolh, or your distillations 
Of a hundred crowns a quart. 

Cald. You talk of nothing. 

Dur, This ta'en as a preparative to strengthen 
Your queasy stomacli, vault into your saddle ; 
With all this flesh 1 can do it without a stirrup :— 
My hounds uncoupled, and my huntsmen ready. 
You shall hear such music from their tuneable 

mouths. 
That you shall say the viol, harp, theorbo, 
Ne'er made such ravishing harmony ; from the 

groves 
And neighbouring woods, with frequent iterations, 
Enamour'd of the cry, a thousand echoes 
Repeating it. 

Catd. What's this to me? 

Dur. It shall be, 
And you give thanks for't. In the afternoon. 
For we will have variety of delights. 
We'll to the field again ; no game shall rise, 
But we'll be ready for't ; if a hare, my greyhounds 
Shall make a course ; for the pie or jay, a spar-hawk 
Flies from the fist ; the crow so nun pursued. 
Shall be compell'd to seek ]irotection under 
Our horses' bellies ; a hern put from her siege, 
And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall mount 
So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to soar 
Above the middle region of the air : 
A cast of haggard falcons, by me inann'd, 
Eying the prey at first, appear as if 
They did turn tail ; but with their labouring wings 
Getting above her, with a thought their pinions 
Cleaving the purer element, make in, 
And by turns bind with her*; the frighted fowl, 
Lying at her defence upon her back, 
With her dreadful beak awhile defers her death. 
Rut, by degrees forced down, we part the fray. 
And feast upon her. 

Cald.This cannot be, I grant, 
But pretty pastime. 

Dur. Pretty pastime, nephew ! 
'Tis royal sport. Then, for an evening flight, 
A tiercel gentle, which 1 call, my masters, 
As he were sent a messenger to the moon, 

• And bff turns bind with her ;\ This exquisite desciip 
tion of rural amusements u from tl>e liand of a great master. 
I lament tliat it is so technical; but, in Mas.-inijer's lima 
this language was perfectly familiar to the aiKlience who 
heard it, in a greater or less des;ree, in every play that came 
before them. To bind with, as I learn from that autlieu- 
tic troaiise, <Ae Gentlemen's Recreation, " \i the same as lo 
tire or seixe. A hawk is said to bind when she seizeth her 
prey." 

There is a striking similarity between this description 
and a passage in Spenser : 

" As when a cast of Fanlcons make their fliijht 
At an henshaw, that lies aloft on wing. 
The whiles they strike at him with heedless might. 
The warie fouk his bill dolh backward wring; 
On which the first, whose force lur first d.itlcbring, 
Herselfe quite through the body doth encore 

And falletlidowne lo ground lii.e sfriselense Ihing :" 
Faerie Queene, B. \ 1., c. 7. 



Scene 1 1.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



41 i 



In such a place flies*, as he seems to say. 

See me, or see me not ! the partridge sprung. 

He makes his stoop ; but wanting breath, is forced 

To cancelierf; tlien, witli such speed as if 

He carried lightning in Iiis wings, he strikes 

The tienibling bird, who even in death appears 

Proiid to be made his quarry. 

Cald. Vet all this 
Is nothing to Calista. 

Dur. Thou slialt find 
Twenty Calinas there, for every night 
A fresh and lusty one ; I'll give thee a ticket. 
In which my name, Dur^zzo's name, subscribed, 
My tenants' n\it-hrown (laughters, wholesome girls, 
At midnight shall contend to do thee service. 
I have bred them up to't ; should their fathers mur- 
mur, 
Their ler.ses are void, for that is a main point 
In my indentures ; and when we make our progress, 
There is no entertainment perfect, if 
This last dish be not offer'd. 

Cald. You make me smile. 

Dur. I'll make thee laugh outright. — My horses, 
knaves ! 
'Tis but six short hours' riding : yet ere night 
Thou shall he an altered man. 

Cald. 1 wish I may, sir. \_Eieunt. 



SCEiVE It. — A Room in Severino's House. 
Enter Iolante, Calista, Calipjo, and Mirtilla. 

Vol, I had spies upon you, minion ; the relation 
Of your behuviour was at home before you : 
My daughter to hold parley, from the church too, 
With noted libertines ! her fame and favours 
The quarrel of their swords ! 

Calis. 'Iwasnotiume 
To help it, madam. 

lul. No ! hoiv have I lived? 
My neighbour knows my manners have been such, 
That 1 jiresume I may afRrm, and baldly, 
In no particular action of my life 
I can he justly censured 

Calip, Censured, madam ! 



• In such a pl.ice flies,] So the old copy, and so, indeed, 
Coxeter. Mr. Af. Masuii, who, without ceremony, alters 
every thing tliat lie does not comprehend (which, by the 
bye, is no sm^iU nintttr,) corrupts it into pace.- a most injudi- 
cious attempt at improvement ; for who ever lieard of the 
pace of a binl, except, pi.ihaps, of an ostrich ! But place 
is the genuine word ; and means, in falconry, the greatest 
elevation wliich a bird of prey attains in its Hight. "Ea- 
gles," says Cul. Tliornlon (who, probably, had no intention 
of becoming a comment.itor on Massinger), "can have no 
speed except when .it their place ; then, to be sure, their 
weight increases their velocity, and they aim with an in- 
creaible swiftness, seldom missing their quarry." Sporting 
Tour. And Lord Cecil, in a letter to the Earl of Shrews- 
bury, " and so I end.witii a release to yon for field hawke, 
if you can help me to a river hawUe" (this is the hawk of 
which Dura/.zo speaks), " that will fly in a high place, 
stick not to give gold so she fly high, but not else." 

Lodi/e's Illustrations, \i,l. III. 187. 

Tills too is the meaning of the expression in Macbeth, 
which has escaped the commentators. " A faulcon, low'r- 
ing in his pride <i( placi;." " Finely expressed," says War- 
. burton, " for confidince in its quality." " In a place of 
which slie" (i. c. lav, " seemed proud" — adds Mr. Malone. 
It is, as the reader now sees, a technical phrase for the 
" highest piiili." 

t 7'o cancelie.- ] ■' Canceller is when the high-flown hawk, 
in her stooping, tnrneth two or three limes on the wing, to 
recover herself before she seizeth lier prey." Gent. Recre- 
ation. 



What lord or lady lives, worthy to sit 
A competent judge on you ? 

Calis. Yet black detraction 
Will tind liiults where they are not. 

Calip. Her foul mou'h 
Is sfopp'd, yon being the object: give me leave 
To speak niy thoughts, yet still under correction: 
And if mv young lady and her woman hear 
With reverence, they niav be edified. 
You tire tnv gracious patroness anil supportress, 
And I your ))oor observer, n;iv, your creature, 
Fed by yotir bounties; and but tliat 1 knoiV 
Your honour detests flattery, I might say, 
And with an einiihasis, you are the lady 
Admired and envied at, tar. far al)ove 
All imitation of the best of women 
I hat are or ever shall be. 'J his is truth : 
I dare not be ob.sequious; and 'twould ill 
Become my gravity, and wisdom glean'd 
From your oraculous ladyship, to act 
The part of a she-parasite. 

lol. If you do, 
I never shall acknowledge you. 

Calis. Admirable ! 
This is nj flattery ! 

M'rl. Do not interrupt her ; 
'Tis such a pleasing itch to your lady-mother. 
That she may peradventure forget us, 
To feed on her own praises. 

/( /. I am not 
So far in debt to age, but if I would 
Listen to men's bewitching sorceries, 
I < ould be courted. 

Citlij). Rest secure of that. 
All the braveries of the city run mad for you. 
And yet your virtue's such, not one attempts you. 

lol. I keep no mankind servant in my house. 
In fear mv chastity may be suspected: 
How is that voiced in Naples ? 

Calip. With loud applause, 
I assure your honour. 

I'vl It confirms I can 
Command my sensual appetites. 

Calip. As vassals to 
Your mo, e than masculine reason, that commands 

them : 
Your ])aiace styled a nunnery ofpnreness, 
In which not one lascivious thought dares enter. 
Your clear soul standing centiiiel. 
Mirt. Well said. Echo! 

lol Yet I have tasted those delights which 
women 
So greedily long for, know their titillations ; 
And when, with danger of his head, thy father 
Comes to give comfort to my widow'd sheets. 
As soon as his desires are satisfied, 
1 can with ease forget them. 

Calip. Observe that, 
It being indeed remarkable : 'tis nothing 
P'or a simple maid, that never had her hand 
In the honey-pot of pleasure, to forbear it; 
But such as have lick'd there, and lick'd there 

often. 
And felt the sweetness oft 

Jliij'f. How her mouth runs o'er 
With rank itnagination ! 

Calip. If such can. 
As uiged befoie, the kickshaw being oflTer'd, 
Refuse to take it, like my matchless madam 
1 hey may be sainted. 



414 



THE GIARDIAN. 



[Act 



lol. I'll lose no more breath 
In fruitless reprehension ; look to it ; 
I'll hvive tl<pe wear this habit of my mind, 
As of my body. 

Catip Seek no other precedent : 
In all the books of Amadis de Gaul, 
The Palmerins, and that true Spanish story, 
The Mirror of Knighthood, which I have read often, 
Ri-ad feelingly, nay more, I do believe in't, 
My lady has no parallel*. 

lol Do not provoke me : 
If from this minute, tliou e'er stir abroad, 
Writs letter, or receive one ; or presume 
To look upon a man, tlioug;b from a window, 
I'll chain thee like a slave in some dark corner; 
Prescribe thy dail\' labour, which omitted, 
Expect the usage of a fury from me, 
Not an indulgent mother. Come, Calipso. 

Cdlip. Your ladyship's injunctions are so easy. 
That I dare pawn mv credit my young lady 
And her woman shall obey them. 

l^Eieunt lolante and Calipso, 

Mirt. You shall fry first 
For a rotten piece of touciiwood, and give fire 
To tlie great fiend's nostrils, when he smokes to- 
bacco ! 
Note the injustice, madam ; they would have us, 
Being young and hungry, keep perpetual Lent, 
And the whole year to them a carnival. 
Easy injunctions, with a mischief to you ! 
Suffer this and suffer all. 

Cads. Not stir abroad ! 
The use and pleasure of our eyes denied us ! 

Mirt. Insufferable. 

Calls. Nor write, nor yet receive 
An amorous letter ! 

Mirt. Not to be endured. 

Calis. Nor look upon a man out of a window ! 

Mirt. Flat tyranny, insupportable tyranny 
To a lady of your blood. 

Calis. She is my mothert. 
And how should 1 decline it? 

Mirt. Run away from't? 
Take any course. 

Calis. But without means, Mirtilla, 
How shall we live 1 



• Calipso rninht pass for a pattern of perseverance even in 
these novel-reading days. Most of tliose old romances would 
»iit«ei^h a score of the flimsy productions of modern times : 
and that true Spanish story, The Mirror of Knighthood, 
wliich she had read often, consists of three ponderous tomes 
in quHTto I 

t tihe is my mother, &c.] The language of this play is sur- 
prisingly beautiful, even for Massinger: it is eveiy where 
modulated with the nicest attention to rhylhm, and laboured 
into an exactness of which 1 know not where to find ano- 
ther example : yet it is in this very play that the modern 
editors have chosen to evince their sovereign contempt of 
their author's cliaracteristic excdiencies, and to turn his 
sweetest metre into weak and hobbling prose. The reader, 
who compares this with the former editions, will see that I 
have reformed what has already past of this act in i. umber- 
less instances. A short quotation will ijive those who wish 
to decline that ungrateful trouble, a suflTicient specimen of 
the disgraceful negligence to which I allude. 

Calis. She is my mother, and how should I decline it t 

Mirt. Run away from' t, take any course. 

Calis. But without means, MirtiUa, houi shall we licef 



Mirt. What a question's that ! as if 
A buxom lady could wanf maintenance 
In any place in the world, where there are men. 
Wine, meat, or money stirring. 

Calis. He you more modest. 
Or seek some other mistress : rather than 
In a tlioiight or dream I will consent to aught 
That may take from my honour. Til endure 
More than my mother can impose upon me. 

Mirf. I grant your honour is a specious dressing 
But without conversation of men, 
A kind of nothing. I will not persuade you 
To disobedient^'^ : yet my confessor told me 
(And he, you know, is held a learned clerk), 
When parents do enjoin unnatural things, 
Wise children may evade them. She may as well 
Command when you are hungry, not eat. 
Or drink, or sleep : and yet all these are easy. 
Compared with the not seeing of a man. 
As 1 persuade no further; but to you 
There is no such necessity , you have means 
To shun your mother's rigour. 

C(i/is. Lawful means? 

Mirt. Lawful, and pleasing too; I will not 
urge 
Caldoro's loyal love, you being averse to't ; 
Make trial of Adorio. 

Calis. And give up 
My honour to Ins lust ! 

Mirt. There's no such thing 
Intended, madam ; in few words, write to him 
What slavish hours you spend under your mother; 
That you desire not present marriage from him. 
But as a noble gentleman to redeem you 
From the tyranny you suffer. With your letter 
Present him some rich jewel ; you have one. 
In which the rape of Proserpine, in little 
Is to the life express'd : I'll be the messenger 
With any hazard, and at my return. 
Yield you a good account oft. 

Calis. Tis a business 
To be consiiler'd of. 

Mirt. Consideration, 
When the converse of your lover is in question, 
Is of no moment : if she would allow you 
A dancer in the morning to well breathe you, 
A songster in the afternoon, a servant 
To air you in the evening* ; give you leave 
To see the theatre twice a week, to mark 
How the old actors decay, the young sprout up 
(A fitting observation), you mighi bear it ; 
Btit not to see, or talk, or touch a man, 
Abominable ! 

Calis. Do not my blushes speak 
How willingly I would assent? 

Mirt. Sweet lady. 
Do something to deserve them, and blush after. 

[^Exeunt. 



• a servant 

To air you in the eveniny ; iic] It has been already ob 
served that servant v as the authorised term for a lover. 
From a subsequent passage it appears that this forward 
young lady wai> barely sixteen. Juliet, however, still mor* 
forward, is still yountie 



SCCHE IJ] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



419 



AC I 11 



SCKNE I. — The same. A Street near Severino's 
Hmise. 

Enter Iolante and Calipso. 

Jol. And are these Frenchmen, as you say, siich 
o-ilhinis? 

Cdlip. (iallant and active; their free breeding 
knows not 
TIip Spanisli and Italian preciseness 
Pnirtised amonof us ; what we call innmodest, 
Will) (hem is styled bold courtship : they dare fight 
Under a velvet ensign at fourteen. 

Itl. A petiicoat, you mean ? 

Ciilip. You are in the right ; 
Lei a mistress wear it under an armour of proof. 
They are not to be beaten off. 

I'ljl. Vou are iperry, neighbour. 

Ciii'p. i fool to make you so ; pray you observe 
ihem, 
They are the forward'st monsieiirs : born physicians 
For the inahidy of young wenches, and ne'er miss : 
I own my life to one of them, when I was 
A raw young thing, not worth the ground I trod 

on. 
And long'd to dip my bread in tar, my lips 
As blue as salt-water, he came up roundly to me. 
And cured me in an instant, Venus be praised for't ! 

Eiiter Alpiionso, Montpensieu, Laval, Captain, 
Atteiidiiiits. 

I'lil. They come, leave prating. 

Colip. 1 am dumb, an't like your honour. 

Alph. We will not break the league confirm'd 
between us 
And your great master: the passage of his army 
'I'hrough all our territories lies open to him ; 
Only we grieve that your design for Rome 
Commands siich haste, as it denies us means 
To entertain you as your worth deserves, 
And we would gladly tender. 

Mnnt. Royal Alphonso, 
The king my master, your confederate. 
Will pay the debt he owes, in fact which I 
Warit words t'express. I must remove to night; 
And yet, that your intended favours may not 
Be lost, I leave this gentleman behind me, 
To whom you may vouchsafe them, I dure say, 
^Vilhout repentance. I forbear to give 
Your majesty his character ; in France 
He was a precedent for arts and arms, 
Wiihout a rival, and may prove in Maples 
Worthy the imitation. 

[Introducet Laval to the king. 

Calip. Is he not, madam, 
A mansieur in print 1 what a garb was there ! O 

rare ! 
Then, how he wears his clothes ! and the fashion of 

them ! 
A main assurance that he is within 
All excellent : by tiiis, wise ladies ever 
Miike their conjectures. 

lol. Peace, I have observed him 
From head to foot. 

Calip. Eye him again, all over. 

Lac. It cannot, royal sir, but argue me 
Of much presumption, if not impudence. 



To be a suitor to vour mnj»»sfy, 

Refore I have deserved a gracious grant, 

My some employmt nt prosperously achieved. 

Hut jiardon, gracious sir: when 1 left France 

I made a vow to a bosom friend of mine 

( VVhich my lord general, if lie please, can witness) 

With such humility as well becomes 

A poor pel itioner, to desire a boon 

From your magnificence. [He delivers a petition. 

Calip. With what punctual form 
He does deliver it ! 

lot. I have eyes : no more. 

Alph. For Severino's pardon ! — j-ou must excuse 
me, 
I dare not pardon murder. 

Lav. His fact, sir. 
Ever t-ubmitting to your abler judgment, 
Rlerits a fairer name; he was jirovoked. 
As by unansweral)le proofs it is confirm'd, — 

]iy IMoiiiecIaro's rashness; wlio repining 
That >everino, witliout his consent, 
Had married Iblaiite, his sole sister 
( It being con< eal'd almost for thirteen years), 
Though the gentleman, at all parts, was his e(|'ial. 
First (halleiig'd him, and, that declined, he gava 

him 
A blow in public. 

Mont. Not to be endured. 
But by a slave. 

Lav. This, great sir, justly weigh 'd. 
You may a little, if you please, lake from 
The rigour of your justice, and express 
An act of mercy. 

]'6I. I can hear no more. 
This o[)tns an old wound, and makes a new one 
Would it were cicatrized ! wait me. 
Calip, As your shadow. 

[Exeunt Julanle and Culipsn, 
Alph. We grant you these are glorious pretences, 
Revenge appearing in the shape of valour, 
Which wise kings must distinguish : the defence 
Of reputation, now made a bawd 
To murder ; every Iriflle falsely styled 
An injury, and not to be determined 
But by a bloody duel : though this vice 
Hath taken root and growth beyond the mountains 
(As France, and, in strange fashions, her ape, 
England, can dearly witness with the loss 
Of more brave spirits than would have stood the 

shock 
Of the Turk's army), while Alphonso lives 
It shall not here be planted. Plove me no further 
In this ; in what else suiting you to ask, 
And me to givr, expect a gracious answer: 
However, welcome to our court. Lord (Jeneral, 
I'll bring you out of the ports, and then betake jou 
To your good fortune. 

Mont. Your grace overwhelms me. {^Eteunt: 



SCENE 11. — A Itoom in Severino's House. 
Enter Campso and Iolante. 
Calip. You are bound to favour him : mark yoo 
how he pleaded 
For my lord's pardon. 



M6 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[Act 11. 



161. That'* indeed a tie ; 
But I have a stronger on me. 

Calip. Sav yon l<>ve 
His [I'Tson, be not ashnni'd oft ; he's a man, 
For whose embraces, though ^ndvInioIl 
Lay sleepiii!>- by, Cyniliia would leave her orb, 
And exchange kisses wiih him. 

liiL Do not fan 
A fire tii-.it burns already too hot in me ; 
I am in my honour sick, sick to the death, 
Never to be recovered. 

Calip. What a coil's here 
For loving a man ! It is no Afric wonder! 
If, like I'asiphi.e, you doted on a bull, 
Indeed 'twere monstrous ; but in ibis you have 
A thousand thousand precedents to excuse you. 
A seaman's wife niay ask relief of lier neighbour, 
When her liusband's bound to_ the Indies, and not 

blam'd for't ; 
And many more besides of higher calling, 
Tbouoh 1 forbear to name them. You have a hus- 
band ; 
But, as the case stands wi h my lord, he is 
A kind of no husband ; and your ladyship 
As free as a widow car. be. 1 confess. 
If ladies should seek change, that have their hus- 
bands 
At board and bed, to pay their marriage duties, 
(The surest bond of concord), 'twere a fault, 
Indeed it were: but for your honour, that 
Do lie alone so often — body of me ! 
I am zealous in your cause — let me take breath. 
Vol. I apprehend what thou wouldst say, I want 
all 
As means to quench the spurious fire that burns 
here. 
Calip. Want means, while I, your creature, lire ! 
I dare not 
Be so unthankful. 

lul. Wilt thou undertake it. 
And, as an earnest of much more to come. 
Receive this jewel, and purse cramm'd full of 

crowns? ■ 

How dearly 1 am forced to buy dishonour ! 

Calip. I would do it gratis, but 'twould ill become 
My breeding to refuse your honour's bounty ; 
Nay, say no more, all ihetoric in this 
Is comprehended ; let me alone to work him. 
He shall be yours*; that's poor, he is already 
At your devotion. I will not hoiist 
My faculties this way, but suppose he were 
Coy as Adonis, or Hippolytus, 
And your desires more hot than Cytherea's, 
Or wanton Phjedra's, I will bring him cliain'd 
To your embraces, glorying in his fetters : 
I have said it. 

Vol. Go, and prosper ; and imagine 
A salary beyond thy hopes. 
Calip. Sleep you 



• He sliall be yours ; that's poor, he is already 
Jit your devotion.] Tliis is paroditd with some humour from 
a spirited passage in Hercules Furens : 

.V( novi Herculem, 

Lycus Creonti debitas pwnas dahit : 
Lentum est, dabit ; dat : hoc quoque lentttmnt ; dedit. 

Ver. 644. 
which J.onson has tlius closely imitated in his Catiline: 

" , He .ihall die; 

Shall, was too slowly said : he's dying , that 
Is yet too slow : he's dead 



Secure on either enr*; the burthen's yoiirs 

'J'o entertain him, mine to bring him hither, [^Exeunt 



SCENE III. — A Room in Adohio's House. 
Enter Adorio, Camii.lo, Lentulo, and Donato. 

Don. Your wrong's beyond a challenge, and you 
deal 
Too fairly with him, if you take that way 
To right yourself. 

Lent. The least that you can do. 
In the terms of honour, is, when next you meet him, 
To sive him the bastinado. 

Cum. And that done. 
Draw out his sword to cut your own throat I No, 
Be ruled by me, show yourself an Italian, . 
And having received one injury, do not put off 
Your hat for a second ; there are fellows that 
For a few crowns will make him sure, and so, 
With your revenge, you prevent future mischief. 
Ador. I thank you, gentlemen, for your sUidied 
care 
In what concerns my honour ; but in that 
I'll steer my own course. Yet, that you may know 
You are still my cabinet counsellors, my bosom 
Lies oj)en to you ; I begin to feel 
A weariness, nay, satiety of looseness. 
And sometliing tells me here, I should repen 
My harshness to Calista. 

F.Htnr CAnio in hatte, 

Camil. When you please, 
You may remove that scruple. 

Ador. 1 shall think on't. 

Car. Sir, sir, are you ready? 

Ador. To do what ? 
I am sure 'tis not yet dinner-time. 

Car. True: but I usher 
Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast, 
As yet I never cook'd : 'tis not botargo. 
Fried frogs, potatoes marrow'd, cavear. 
Carps' tongu"s, the pith of an English chine of beef, 
Nor our Italian delicate oil'd mushrooms, 



♦ Calip. Sleep you 
Secure on eiiliei ear ;] Calipso seems to have joined the 
classics to Amadis de Gaul, Palmerin, and The Mirrour 
uf Kniijhthood. To sleep on either ear , \i from The Heau- 
tont, of I'crence, — in aurem iitramvia dormire, — an(l means, 
to sleep soundly, free IVom care, &c. It is used by Joiison, 
in his beautiful Masque of Vberon : 

" Sirs, yon keep 

Proper watch, that thus do lie 
Drown'd in »loth ! 

.Sat. 1. They have no eye 
To wake wiihal. 

Sat. 2. Nor sense, I fear. 
For they sleep on either ear." 
In Acerbi's Travels to the North of Europe, tl ere is an 
extract from the bishop of Dronlheim's Account of the 
Laplanders, — " in utramvis dormhtnt aurem, nee plumis 
indormire moUibas mai/ni testimant." 'i'liis Acerbi, or 
rather the English manufacturer of his work, translates, 
" they sleep equally on both sides!" He then remaiks, with 
an appearance of great sagacity, " Some physicians recom- 
mend sleeping on the right side, or right ear, the good 
bishop seems, however, to think that to sleep casually on 
either ear is the most conducive to health." The " good 
bishop" knew what he was saying very well, though his 
flippant translator did not : — but thus it is that we arc dis- 
graced in the eyes of Enrooe by needy adventurers, who 
set up for critics in literature with no other qualilicationi 
than ignorance and impudence ! 



Scene III.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



And yet a drawer-on, too; and if you show not 
An appetite, and a strong one, I'll not say 
To eat it, but devour it, without {•nice too, 
For it will not stay a preface, I am shamed. 
And ;ill my past provocatives will be jeer'd at. 

Aaor. Art thou in thy wits? what ne»v-fourd 
ra rity 
Hast thou discover'd? 

Ctir. No such matter, sir; 
It srrows ill our own country. 

Don. Serve it up, 
I feel a kind of stomach, 

Ctiniil. 1 could feed too. 

Cur. Not a bit upon a march; there's other 
lettuce 
For your coarse lips ; this is peculiar, only 
For mv master's palate ; I would give my whole 

year's wages, 
VVitli all my vails, and fees due to the kitchen, 
But to be his carver. 

Adtiu. Leave your fooling, sirrah. 
And bring in vour dainty. 

Car. 'J'will briny in itself. 
It has life and spirit in it ; and for proof. 
Behold ! Now tail to boldly, my life on't 
It comes to be tasted. 

Enter Mirtilla. 

Ctimil. Ila ! Calista's woman. 

Lent. A handsome one, by Venus. 

Adiir. Prav you forbear : 
You are welcome, fair one. 

Don. How that blush becomes her! 

Ailar. Aim your designs at me ? 

Mirl. 1 am trusted, sir. 
With a business of near consequence, wliich I would 
To your private ear deliver. 

Car. I lold you so. 
Give her audience on your couch ; it is fit state 
To a slie-anibassador. 

Ailor. Pray you, gentlemen. 
For awhile dispose of yourselves, I'll straight attend 
you. 

[F.xeunt Camilla, Lentulo, ami Doucto. 

Car. Dispatch her first for your honour, the 

cjuickly doing 

You know what follows. 

Adov. Will you please to vanish 1 [Exit Cario, 
Now, pietty one, j'our pleasure ; you shall find me 
Beady to serve you ; if you'll put me to 
My oath, I'll take it on this book. 

Mirt. t), sir. 
The favour is too great, and far above 
My jpoor ambition, I must ki^s your hand 
In sign of humble thankfulness. 

Adtrr. So modest! 

Mirt. It well becomes a maid, sir. Spare those 
blessings 
For my noble mistress, upon whom with justice, 
And, with your good allovvanre, I might add 
Willi a due gratitude, you may confer tiiem ; 
But this will better speak her chaste desires. 

[DAivn'i a letter. 
Than I can fancy what they are, much less 
With moving language, to their fair deserts. 
Aptly express them. Pray vou read, but with 
Compassion, 1 beseech you : if you find 



• \nlyei a drawer- on too ;] i. e. au iiiciton-.c.n; ;o appe- 
fkte . (lie plirase is yet in use. 



The paper blurr'd with tears fallen from her eyes. 
While she endeavour'd to set down that truth 
Her soul did dictate to her, it must challenge 
A gracious answer. 

Adnr. O the powerful charms 
By that fair hand writ down here ! not like those 
Which dreadfully pronouiued by Circe, changed 
Ulysses' followers into beasts ; these have 
An opposite working : I already feel. 
But reading them, their saving operations. 
And all those sensual, loose, and base desires, 
Wliiuli have too long usurp'd, and tyiannized 
Over my reason, of themselves fall otF. 
Most happy metamorphosis ! in which 
'J"he film of error that did blind my judgment 
And seduced understantling, is removed. 
\N'liat sacrifice of thanks can I return 
Her pious charity, that not alone 
Redeems me from the worst of slavery, 
The tyranny of mv beastly appetites. 
To wliich I long obsequiously have bow'd ; 
But adds a matchless favour to receive 
A benefit from me, nay, puts her goodness 
In my protection? 

3ii; f. Transform'd ! it is [Asidt 

A blessed metamorphosis, and works 
I knoA' not how on me. 

Ador. My joys are boundless, 
Curb'd with no limits ; for her sake, Mirtilla, 
Instruct me how I presently may seal 
To t\ <Nsa strong bonds of loyal love, and service 
Which ne''er shall be cancell'd. 

JJiir* SIte'il become 
Your debtor, sir. if you vouchsafe to answer 
Her pure aflfection. 

Ador. Answer it, Mirtilla! 
With moie ihan adoration I kneel to it 
Tell her, I'll rather die a thoousand deaths 
'J'han fail, with punctuality, to perform 
All her commands. 

Mirt. I am lost on this assurance. [Asid*. 

Which, if 'twere made to me, 1 should have faith in't. 
As in an oracle : ah me I She presents you 
This jewel, her dead grandsire's gift, in which, 
As by a true Egyptian hieroglyphic 
(For so I think she call'd it), you may be 
Instructed what her suit is you should do. 
And she with joy will sutler. 

Ador. Heaven be pleased 
To qualify this excess of happiness 
With some disaster, or I shall expire 
With a surlieit of felicity. With what art 
The cunning* lapidary hath here express'd 
I he rape of Proser)>ine I I a| prehend 
Her purpose, and obey it ; vet not as 
A helping friend, but a hu.sband : 1 will meet 
Her chaste desires with lawful heat, and warm 
Our Hymeneal sheets with such delights 
As leave no sting behind them. 

Milt. I dt-spair then. [Asida. 

Ailor. At the time appointed say, wench, I'll at- 
tend her. 
And guard her from- the fury of her mother. 
And all that dare disturb her. 

Mirt. You spi ak well, 
Aiid [ believe \ou. 



• Ifithwhniort 

The ciinr.inu lapidary, &c.] Cunning is die Scriptural tcnv 
fur inyetiuitp in ilie aiU. 



418 



THE GUARDIAN. 



fAcrll 



Aftor. Would you aught else ? 

Afjr'. I would carry 
8oirie love-sigii to lier; and now I think on it, 
TIio kind salute you offer'd at my entrance. 
Hold it not im[)udence that 1 desire it, 
I'll faithfully deliver it, 

Ador. (), a kiss ! 
You must excuse me ; I was then mine own. 
Now wholly liers : the touch of other lips 
I do abjure for ever : but there's gold 
To bind thee still my advocate. 

[Exit. 

Mirt. Not a kiss! 
I was coy wlien it was offered, and now justly 
When I beg one am denied. What scorching fires 
My loose hopes kindle in me ! shall 1 be 
False to my lady's trust, and from a servant 
Rise up her rival? His words have bewitch'd me, 
And something I must do. but what? — 'tis yet 
An etnbryon. and how to give it form, 
Alas, I know nit. Pardon me, Calista, 
I am nearest to myself, and time will teach me 
To perfect that which yet is undetermined. 

[Exit. 



SCENE JV.—Tke Country. A Forest. 

Enter Claudio and Sevehino. 

Claud. You are master of yourself; yet, if I may 
As a tried friend in my love and affectiuii. 
And a servant in mv duty, speak my thi»i:gbt.i, 
Without offence, i'the way of counsel to \oj , 
I could allege, and truly, that your purpose 
For Naples, cover'd with a thin disguise. 
Is full of danger. 

Srv. Danger, Claudio ! 
'Tis here, and every where, our forced companion; 
The rising and tlie setting sun beholds us 
Environ'd with it ; our whole life a journey 
Ending in certain luin. 

Claud. Yet we should not, 
Howe'er besifged, deliver up our fort 
Of life, till it be forced. 

6<t>. 'Tis so indeed 
By wisest men concluded, which we should 
Obey as Christians ; but when I consider 
How different the progress of our actions 
Is from religion, nay, morality, 
I cannot find in reason, why we should 
Be scrupulous that way only; or like meteors 
Blaze forth prodigious terrors, till our stuff 
Be utterly consumed, which once put out, 
Woulvl bring security unto ourselves, 
And safety unto those we prey upon. 

Claudio ! since by this fatal hand 
The brother of my wife, bold JSlonteclaro, 
Was left dead in the field, and I p.oscribed 
After my flight, by the justice of the king. 
My being hath been but a living death, 
With a continued torture. 

Claud. Yet in that 
You do delude their bloodv violence 
That do ])ursue your life. " 

Sev. While I bv rapines 
Live terrible to others as myself. 
What one hour can we challenge as our own, 
Uuliappy as we are, yielding a beam 

01 couiibit to us ? Quiet uight, that brings 



Hest to the labourer, is the outlaw's Jay, 

In which he rises early to do wrong. 

And when his work is ended, dares not sle(»p . 

Our time is spent in watches to entrap 

Such as would shun us, and to hide oiir-ei'-es 

Kicin the ministers of justice, that would bnng ud 

To the coireition of tlie law. O, Claudio, 

Is this a life to be preserved*, and at 

So dear a rate? Hut why hold I discourse 

On this sad siibjet t, since it is a burthen 

We are mark'd to be:ir, and not to be shook off 

But with our human frailty ? In the change 

Of dangers there is some delight, and tlierelbre 

I am res)lved for Naples. 

Claud. INIay you meet there 
All comforts that so fair and chaste a wife 
(As fame pnx laitns her without parallel) 
Can yield to ease >our sorrows ! 

Sev. 1 much ihnnk yoa ; 
Yet you may spare tll0!^e wishes, which with joy 
I have proved certainties, and from their want 
Her excellencies take lustre. 

Claud. Kre you go yet, 
Some charge unto you- squires not to fly out 
Beyond their bounds were not impertinent : 
For though that with a look you can command tbera. 
In your absence they'll be headstrong. 

Sev. 'lis well thouglit on, 
I'll touch my born, — [Blows his /ii»r«.] — they know 
my call. 

Claud. And will. 
As soon as heard, make in to't from all quarters 
As the flock to the shepherd's whis'le. 

Enter lianditti. 

1 Ban. What's your will ? 

2 Ban. Hail, sovereign of these woods ! 

3 Ban. We lav our lives 
At your higliness' feet. 

4 Ban. And will confess no king. 

Nor laws but wh.it come from )our mouth; and 

those 
We gladly will subscribe to. 

Seu. iMake this good, 
In my absence, to my substitute, to whom 
Pay all obedience as to mvself; 
The breath of this in one jiarticular 
I will severely [lunish : on your lives. 
Remember upon whom with our allowance 
You may securely prey, with such as are 
Exempted from your fury. 

Claud, 'i'were not amiss. 
If you please, to help their memory; besides. 
Here are some newly initiated. 

Sev. To these 
Read you the articles ; I must be gone: 
Claudio, farewell ! 

f), Claudio, 



Is this a life to be preservfd, &.C.] A stale of inse-?--— 'ly 
and perpctiiiil alarm was never described witli iiKire energy 
and beauty than in lhi» scene I know ni>t whelher Mas- 
sini;er ever reached Germany; but certainly many parts of 
Charles The Hobber beir a stiikiiiK resemblance to ihe cha- 
racter of SeveriiKi. There is a tine passage in Marstou, 
which is not altogether unlike the opcnini; of this speech : 

" — () thou pale, sober night. 

Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense do^t sleep; 
Thou that giv'st ail the world full eave to \>\>-' 
Ui'bend'st the feeble veins of sweaty labour,"' jfc. 

The Malecontent. i\rK HI. .»,;. U. 
ro'.tann has laid this scene under heavy cuutr!bJU:>9t is 
hi3 Battle of Hexham. 



SCEKB IV. j 



THE GUARDIAN. 



419 



Claud. Mnv j-our return be speedy ! 

1 J)an. Silence; out with your table-books. 

2 Bail. And observe. 

Claud, [reads.] The cormorant that lives in eipec- 

tntiou 
Of a long icish'd-for dearth, aiid smiling grinds 
The fuces of the j'oor, ynii may make spoil oj ; 
Even tht'ft to such is justice. 

J Ban. lie's in n'y tables. 

Clsuul. The grand encloser of the commons, for 
His priaite jirnjit or delioht. icith till 
His herds that graze npon't, are lawj'nl prize. 

4 Bun. And we will brin^ them in, although the 
devil 

Stood roaring bv to g^uard them, 

Claud. If II uiurer, 
Greedq, ni his own price to make a purchase, 
Taking advii II luge upon bond or mortgage 
From a ])rodigal, pass tlirongh our territories. 
In the way of custom, or of tribute to us, 
Vou may ease him if his hurlheti. 

2 Ban. Wholesome doctrine. 

Claud. Builders of iron mills, that grub up forests* 
With timber trees for shipping. 

1 Ban. May we not 
Have a touch at lawyers ? 

Claud. Bv no means; they may 
Too soon have a gripe at us ; they are angry hor- 
nets. 
Not to be jested with. 

3 Ban. This is not so well. ' 
Claud. The ouners of dark shops, that vent their 

wares 
With perjuries ; cheating vintners, not contented 
With half in half in their reckonings, yet C'-y out. 
When they find their guests want coin, 'Tis late, and 

bed-time. 
These ransack at your pleasures. 

5 Ban. How shall we know them ? 

Claud. If they walk on foot, by their rat-colour'd 
stockings, 
And shining shoesf ; if horsemen, by short boots, 
And riding furniture of several couniies. 

2 Ban. Not one of the list escapes us. 
Claud. But for scholars. 

Whose wealth lies in their heads, and not their pockets, 
Soldiers that have bled in their cnuntry's service ; 
The rent-rack' d fanner ; needy market folks ; 
The sweaty labourer ; carriers thai transport 
Thegooits of other men, are privileged ; 
But, above all, let none presume to offer 
Violence towomen, foroiir king lunh sworn, 
Who that way's a delinquent, without mercy 
Hangs Jor't by martial law. 



• Claud. Guilders of irmi mills, that yruh up forests 
If ith timber trees for shi)ipiny.] Did this cvjl ie.illy exist 
in Massiii_ei's days { or did tlic pnet, in prdplittic vision, 
visit the " uell woodtd" inouiitaiiis that ovirhang the Lakes 
of Cumbeiland and Westinoieland .' 'Ihese articles are ev- 
treniely curious, as tlicy >how ns what were accounted the 
chief giiev ances of the nation at that fortunate period. 

+ Artd .'-liining shoes;] Our old dianiatists make tlicm- 
selves Very merry with these sfiininij shoes, whicli appear, in 
their time, to liave bten one <>i (lie eliaracteri tic m.iiks of a 
»prB;e citi/.cn. Thus Newcut, rallying I'lotwell for be- 
coming a mirthant, exclaims : 

•' Slid ! his skors shine too !" The City Match. 

And Kitely observes that Wei bred's acquaintance 

" ni> ck him all over, 

From his flat cap unto hi; shining shoes." 

Every Man in hit Humour. 



All, Long live Severino, 
And perish all such cuUions as repine* 
At his new monarchy ! 

Claud. About your business, 
That he may find, at his return, good cause 
To praise your cure and discipline. 

All. We'll not fail, sir. lExeunt, 



SCENE IV.— Naples, A Street. 
Enter Laval and Calipso. 

Lav. Thou art sure mistaken ; 'tis not possible 
That I can be the man thou art employ'd to. 

Calip. Not you the man! you are the man of 
men, 
And such another, in my lady's eye, 
Never fo he discover'd. 

Lav. A mere stranger 
Newlv arrived ! 

Calip. Still the more probable; 
Since ladies, as you know, affect strange dainties, 
.'^nd brought far to themf. This is not an age 
In which saints live ; but women, knowing women, 
That understand their summum honum is 
Variety of pleasures in the touch. 
Derived from several nations; and if men would 
Be wise bv their example — 

Lav. As most are, 
'Tis a coupling age! 

Calip. Why, sir, do gallants travel? 
Answer that question but, at their return. 
With wonder to the hearers, to discourse of 
'J he garb and ditTerence in foreign females, 
As the lusty girl of France, the sober German, 
The i)lump Dutch frow, the statelv dame of Spain. 
The Roman libertine, and sprightful Tuscan, 
The merry Greek, Venetian counezan, 
I'he English fair companiou, that learns some- 
thing 
From every nation, and will fly at all : 
I say again, the difference betwixt these 
And their own country gamesters. 

Lav. Aptly urged. 
Some make that their main end : but may I ask, 
W^ithout offence to your gravity, by what title 
Your lady, that invites me to her favours. 
Is known in the city ? 

Calip. Jf you were a true-born monsieur, 
You would do the business first, and ask that after. 
If you only truck with her title, I shall hardly 
Deserve thanks for my travail ; she is, sir, 
No single ducat-trader, nor a beldam 
So frozen up, that a fever cannot thaw ber; 
No lioness by her breath. 

Lav. Leave these impertinencies, 
And come to the matter, 

Calip. Would you'd be as forward 
When you draw for the upsiiot ! she is, sir, a lady, 
A rich, fair, well-coir.plexioned, and what is 
Not frequent among Venus' votaries. 
Upon my credit, which good men have trusted, 

• And perish all such cuUions) A term taken from the 
Italians ami stiont;ly expiessiveotcouteiiipt : all fuch ahieci 
wretches. It fiequcnlly occurs in Ihe olil poits 

+ .Sinre liidifs, as you know, affect stranue dainties. 

And hrouijht far to thnn. | Ihls is proverbial ; but it may, 
poihaps, alliKle to the tiile of a play, by 'I'liom.is Racket, 
" f'arre Fetched and Dear Bought ys Good for Ladies." It 
was entered at Siaiioncs' Hall, lOtiti, 



t20 



THK GUARDIAN. 



fAcrl 



A sound and wliolesome lady, and ber name is 

Madonna lolaate. 
Lav. Ifilaiite ! 

I have lipard of her ; for cliastity, and beauty. 

The wonder of the age. 

Calip I'riiy vou, not too much 

Of cLastitv ; fair and free I do subscribe to, 

And so you'll find her. 

Lav. Come, you are a base creature; 

And coveriiifj your foul ends with her fair name. 

Give me just reason to suspect you have 

A plot upon my life. 

Calip. A i))ot ! very fine ! 

Nay, 'lis a dangerous one, pray you beware oft; 

Tis cuntiin'jlv contrived : 1 plot to bring you 

Afoot, with the travel of some forty paces. 

To those delights which a man not made of snow 

Would ride a thousand miles for. Vou shall be 

IJeceived ai a postern door, if you be not cautious, 

By one whose touch would make old Nestor 

young. 
And cure his liernia ; a terrible plot! 
A kiss then ravished from you by such lips 
As flow with nectar, a juicy palm more ])recions 
Than the famed Sibylla's bough, to guide you safe 
Through mi.^ts of perfumes to a glorious room. 
Where Jove might feast his Juno ; a dire j)lot 
A ban(|uet I'll not mention, tliat is common : 
But 1 must not forget, to make the plot 
More horrid to you, the retiring bower. 
So furnished as might force the Persian's envy. 
The silver bathing-iub the cambric rubbers. 
The embroidered quilt, the bed of gossamer 
And damask roses; a mere jiowder-plot 
To blow you up ! and last, a bed-fellow. 



'I'o whose rare entertainment all these are 
But foils and t^ef tings off. 

Lav. No more; her breath 
Would warm an euruch. 

Calip. 1 knew 1 should heat you • 
Now he begins to glow. " ^ 

Luv. I am flesh and blood. 
And I were not man if I should not run the hazard^ 
Had J no other ends in't. I have considered 
Your motion, matron. 

Calip. ]\iy plot, sir, on your life. 
For which I am deservedly suspected 
For a base and dangerous woman ! Fare you well, 

sir, 
I'll be bold to take my leave. 

Lav. I will along too. 
Come, pardon my suspicion, I confess 
My error; and eying you better, 1 perceive 
There's nothing that is ill that can flow from you ; 
I am serious, and for proof of it I'll purchase 
Your good opinion. [Gives her his puru. 

Calip. I am gentle natured, 
And can forget a greater wrong upon 
Such terms of satislaction. 
Lav, What's the hour? 
Ciilip. 'I'welve. 
Lav. I'll not miss a minute. 
Calip. I shall find you 
At your lodging? 

Lav. Certainly ; return my service, 
And lor me kiss your lady's hands. 

Cuiip. At twelve 
I'll be your convoy. 
Lav. 1 desire no better. 

[Exeunt, 



ACT III. 



SCF.NE J.— The Country. 
Enter Durazzo, Caldoiio, and Servant. 
Dur. the horses down the hill ; I have a 

lit ^'^'^^^ 
To speak in private. [Exit Servant. 

Cald. Good sir, no more anger. 
Dui. Love do you call it! madneES, wilful mad- 
ness ; 
And since I cannot cure it, I would have you 
Exactly mad. \ ou are a lover already. 
Be a drunka-d too, and after turn small poet, 
Ard then you are mad, katexoken the madman*. 
Cald. Such as are safe on shore may smile at 
tempesis ; 
But I, that am embark 'd, and every minute 
Expect a shipwreck, relish not your mirth; 
To me it is unseasonable. 

Dnr. P. easing viands 
Are made sharp by sick palates. I aflfect 
A hiiiulsome mistress in my gray beard, as well 
As any boy of you all ; and on good terms 
Will venture as fari'ilie fire, so she be willing 

• And then yiiu are mad, katcxoktii Ike madman.] 
%.j4\Tt^0xr]V i. fc. nuper emiueiitli/ the iiiudinaii. 



To entertain me ; but ere I would dote. 

As you do, where there is no flattering hope 

Ever t'enjoy her, I would forswear wine. 

And kill this letcherous itch with drinking water, 

Or live, likeu Carthusian, on poor John, 

Then bathe myself night by nighr in marble dew. 

And use no soap but cainphire-balls. 

Cald. You may 
(And 1 must sutler it), like a rough surgeon. 
Apply these burning caustics to my wounds 
Already gangren'd, when soft unguents would 
Better ex|)ress an uncle with some feeling 
Of his ne]ihew's torments. 

Dur. 1 shall melt, and cannot 
Hold out if he whimper. O that this young fellow, 
Who, on my knowledge, is able to beat a man. 
Should be baffled by tins blind imagined boy, 
Or (ear his bird-bolts* ! 

jald. You have put yourself already 
To too much trouble in bringing me thus /ar : 
Now, if you please, with your good wishes, leave 

me 
To my ihv hard fortunes. 



• Or fear his bii(l-bol:s !] i. e. liis blunt, pointlesi, arrowij 
fur witu such bilds weiu bi'oiii;lit Uuvva. 



SCENS 1 1 1. "I 



THE GUARDIAN. 



4tl 



Dur. I'll for-ake myself first. 
Leave thee ! I catiiio't, will not ; thou shall have 
No cause tc be weary of my company, 
For I'll be useful ; and, ere 1 see ihee perish, 
Dispensing with my (liu;nity and candour*, 
I will do sometliiiig for thee, though it savour 
Of the old sijuire of Troyt. As we ride, we will 
Consult of the means : bear up. 

Cald. 1 cannot sink. 
Having your noble aids to buoy me up ; 
There was never ^uch a guardian. 

Dur, How is this 1 
Stale compliments to me ! When my work's done, 
Commend the artificer,- and theu be thankful. 

[^Exeunt. 



SCENE II.- 



- Naples. A Room in Severino's 
House, 



Enter Calista richlii habited, and Mirtilla in the 

gown which Calista _/!rst wore. 

Calls. How dost liiou like my gown? 

Mirt. 'lis rich and courtiike. 

Calls. The dressing's too are suitable 

Mirl I must sav so. 
Or you mij;lit blame- my want of care. 

Colt),. iMy niolher 
Little dreams i.f my intended flight, or that 
These are my nuptial ornaments. 

Mirt. I hope so. 

Cutis. How dully thou repliest ! thou dost not 
envy 
Adorio's noble change, or the good fortune 
That it brings to me f 

Mirt. Aly endeavours that way 
Can answer lor me. 

Calls. True ; von have discharged 
A faithful SHi-vant's duty, and it is 
By me rewarded like a liberal mistress: 
I speak it not to upbraid you with my bounties, 
'J'hough tliev deserve more thanks and ceremony 
Than you have yet express'd. 

Mirt. 'i'he miseries 
Which, from your happiness, I am sure to suffer, 
Restrain my forward tongue ; and, gentle madam. 
Excuse my weakness, though I do appear 
A little daunted with the Ueavy burthen 
I am to undi rgo : when you are safe. 
My dangers, like to roaring torrents, will 
Gush in upon me ; yet 1 would endure 
Your mother's cruelty, but how to bear 
Your absence, in the very thought confounds me. 
Since we were children I have loved and served 

you ; 
1 willingly learn'd to obey, as you 
Grew up to knowledge, that you might command 
me ; 



• Oispensini/ loithmy dignify anil candour,] Tliis expres- 
eion reconciles iiie U< a passive in The Parliament of Love, 
of which, though copied willi iny best care, 1 was extremely 
doubtful ; 

" And might I but persuade you to dispense 
" A little with >our candour, &c." Act IV. sc. iii. 
It now appears that Mas.-inger uses candour in buth places 
as synonjnu.us with liononr, or fairness of reputation. 

i Of i lie old Si\\nre of Troy. j The PaniUius of Sliaks- 
peare. 1 his uncle is a most pleasant character; it is im- 
possible not to be delighted with him, notwithstanding the 
freedom of b.is language. As Caldoro justly observes, 
Tliere was nener such a tuardian. 

30 



And now to be divorced from all my comforts I— 
Can I his be borne with patience? 

Cutis. I he iiecessitv 
Of my strange fate commands it; but I vow 
By my Adorio's love, I pity ihee. 

Mirt. Pity me, madam ! a cold chaiity ; 
You must do more, and help me. 

Calls. Ha ! what said you ? 
1 must ! Is this fit language for a servant? 

Mirt. Kor one that would continue your poor 
servant. 
And cannot live that dav in which she is 
Denied to he so. Can Mirtilla sit 
IMouriiing- alone, imagining tho«e pleasures 
Wiiicli you this blessed Hymeneal night 
Enjoy ill tiie embraces of your lord, 
And my lord too, in being your's ? (alreadv 
As such I love and honour him). Sluill a stranger- 
Sew you in a sheet, to guard that maidenhead 
You must pretend to keep; and 'twill become you? 
Shall another do those bridal offices 
Which time will not permit me to remember*, 
And 1 pine here with env)'? pardon n.e, 
1 must and will be pardon 'd, — for mv jiassions 
Are in extremes ; and use some Sjieeily means 
1 hat 1 may go along with you, and share 
Jn those delights, but with becoming di,taiice; 
Or by his life, which as a saint you swear by, 
I will discover all. 

Cutis. Thou canst not be 
So iieaclierous and cruel, in destroying 
'I he building thou liast raised. 

Mirt. Pray you do not tempt me, 
For 'tis resolved. 

Calis. 1 know not what to think oPt. 
In the discovery of my secrets to her, [I'er, 

1 have made my slnve my mistress : I must sooth 
There's no evasion else. — Prithee, Rliriiila, 
lie not so violent, I am strangely taken 
VN'iih thy affection for me; 'twas my purjjose 
'I'o have thee sent for. 

Mirt. When? 

Calis. This very niglit ; 
Aud 1 vow deej)ly I shall be no sooner 
In the desired possession of my lord 
But by some of his servants 1 will have thee 
Coiivey'd unto us. 

Mirl. Should you break? 

Calh. I dare not. 
Come, clear thy looks, for instantly we'll prepare 
For our departure. 

Mirt. Pray you, forgive my boldness, 
Groiviug from iny excess of zeal to serve you. 

Calis. 1 thank thee for't. 

Mirt. You'll keep your word? 

Calls. Still doubtful ? 

Mirt. ' J'was this 1 aim'd at, and leave the rest to 
fortune. [Exeunt. 

SCEI^JE III. — A JRoom i;i Adorio's House. 
Enler Adorio, Camillo, Lentulo, Donato, 

CAnio, and Servants. 
Ador. Haste you unto my villa, and take all 

• IVhicIt time will not permit me to lemember,] i. e. to 
brinw to your lemerabrance, to remind you of: so the word 
is frequently used. 

This scene, and indeed the whole of this play, is scanda- 
lously edited by Coxeler as well as Mr. M. Mason ; in the 
line before us, the former omits m£, and the latter, time, to 
that the mefe halts miserably in both. 



4S* 



THE GUARDIAN. 



A-n-ni 



Provision along with you, and for use 
And ornament, the shortness of the time 
Can furnish vou ; let my best plate be set out, 
And costliest lianjiings ; and, if 't be possible, 
With a merry dance to entertain the bride, 
I'rovide an epithalamium. 

Car. Trust me 
For belly timber : and for a song I have 
A piiper-blurrer, who on all occasions, 
For all times, and all seasons, hath such trinkets 
Ready in the deck*: it is but altering 
Tlie names, and they w-ill serve for an'y bride 
Or bridegroom in the kingdom. 

Adi'r. But for the dance? 

Car. I will make one myself, and foot it finely; 
And summoning your tenants at my dresser, 
Which is, indeed, my drumf, make a rare choice 
Of tlie able youth, such as shall sweat sufficiently. 
And smell too, but not of amber, which you know is 
The grace of the country hall. 

.4<lor. About it, Cario, 
And look you be careful. 

Car. For mine own credit, sir. 

[Ereunt Cario and Servants. 

Ador. Now, noble friends, confirm your loves, 
and think not 
Of the penalty of the law, that does forbid 
The steiding awav an heir : I will secure you, 
And pav the breach oft. 

Camil. Tell us what we shall do. 
We'll talk of that hereafter. 

Ador. Pray you be careful 
■)"o keep the west gate of the city open, 
Th;it our passage may be free, and bribe the watch 
With any sum ; this is all. 

Don. A dangerous business ! 

Camil. I'll make the constable, watch, and porter 
drunk, 
Under a crown. 

Lent. And then you may pass while they snore, 
Though you had done a murder. 

Camil. Get but your mistress. 
And leave the rest to us, 

Ador. You much engage me : 
But I forget myself. 

Camil. Pray you in what, sir? 

Ador. Yielding too much to my affection. 
Though lawful now, my wounded reputation 
And honour suffer : the disgrace in taking 
A blow in public from Caldoro, branded 
W'ith the infamous mark of coward, in delaying 
To right myself, upon my cheek grows' fresher; 
That's first to be consider'd. 

Camil. If you dare 

* Beady in the deck.] Mr. M. Mason reads, in the desk ; 
«n<l, doubtless, applauded himself for the emi ndalion ; but 
iUck is right ; it means the heap, or, technically speaking, 
the^rois. In our old poets, a piwk of cards iscalled a deck : 
Thns, in Selimus Emperor of the Turks, 1594:. 

" Well, if 1 chance but once to get the deck, 
To deal about and chutfle as 1 would." 

* jind summonmg your tenants at mj/ dresser, 

IVhich is, indeed, my diuni,] Thus, the servant, in The 
Vrmatural Combat: 

" VVIieu iW. dresser, the cook'sdrum, thunders, come on!" 

Act III. sc. i. 
Ajui thus Suckling : 

" Just in the nick the cook knock'd thrice, 
And all llie waiters in a trice 

His summons did obey ; 
Each serving-man, with dish in hand, 
March'd boldly up, like our train'd band. 
Presented, and away." T/u Wedding. 



Trust mv opinion (yet I have had 
Some practice and experience in duels). 
You are too tender that way : can you answer 
The debt you owe your honour till you meet 
Your enemy from whom you may exact it? 
Hath he not left the city, and in fear 
Conceal'd himself, for aught I can imagine? 
What wnuld you more? 

Ador. I should do. 

Camil. Never think on't, 
Till fitter time and place invite you to it: 
I have read Caranza*, and find not in his grammar 
Of quarrels, that the injured man is bound 
To seek for reparation at an hour 
But may, and without loss, till he hath settlet 
More serious occasions that import him, 
For a day or two defer it. 

Ador. You'll subscribe 
Your hand to this? 

Camil. And justify't with my life. 
Presume upon't. 

Ador. On, then; you shall o'er-rule me. 

[ Exeunt 
♦ 

SCENE IV. — A Room in Severino's House. 
Enter loLANTF, and Calipso. 

lot. I'll give thee a golden tongue, and have it 

hung up 
Over thy tomb for a monument. 
Call]). I am not pre])ared yet 
To leave the world ; there are many good pranks 
I roust dispatch in this kind before 1 die: 
And I had rather, it \our honour please, 
Have the crowns in my purse. . 
W. 'lake that. 
Calip. Magnificent lady ! 
May you live long, and every moon love cliange. 
That I may have fresh employment. You know 

what 
Remains to be done. 

I'dl. Yes, yes ; I will command 
My daughter and Mirtilla to their chamber. 

Calip. And lock them up : such liquorish kit- 
lings are not 
To be trusted with our cream. Ere I go, I'll help 

you 
To set forth the banquet, and place the candiei^. 

eringoes 
Where he may be sure to taste them ; then undres* 

you. 
For these things are cumbersome, when you sbou^ti 

be active : 
A thin night mantle to hide part of your smock. 
With your pearl-embroidered pantofles on your 

feet. 
And then you are armed for service ! nay, no 

trifling. 



• / have read CaranzaO This great man — " great let me 
call him," fi>rhe has obtained ftie praise of Bob.idil, wrote a 
systematic treatise on duellini!, which ^eems to have been 
the Vade Mecum of the punctilious gallants ab>iut ihe court 
of James 1. He is frequently mentioned by Beaumont and 
Fletcher, Jonson, and our author, and generally wiih the 
ridicule which he deserves. From a passage in The New Inn, 
it should seem that his reputation did not long outlive 
their sarcasms : 

" Host. They had thcirtimes, and we can say, they teert ■ 
So had Caranxa his." 



FOVNF v.] 



THE GUARDIAN 



419 



We are alone, and you know 'tis a point of folly 
To be coy to eat wlien meat is set before you. 



3Cf2NE V. — A Street before Severino's House. 
Enter Adouio and Servant. 

Atlor. 'Tis eleven by my watch, the hour ap- 
pointed, 
listen at the door— hear'st thou any stirring? 

Seru. No, sir ; 
All's silent here. 

Adiir. Some cursed business keeps 
Her mother up. I'll walk a little circle, 
And hiiow where you shall wait us with the horses. 
And then return. This short delay afflicts me, 
And I presume to her it is not pleasing. [Erciinf. 

Enter Durazzo and Caldoro. 

i)iir. What's now to be done 1 prithee let's to 
bed, [ am slee])y ; 
Anil here's mv himd on't, without more ado, 
Hv lair or foul play we'll have her to-morrow 
In thy possession. 

Valfl. Good sir, give me leave 
To tviste a little comfort in beholding 
The place by her sweet presence sanctified. 
She may perhaps, to take air, of)e the casement, 
And looking^ out, a new star to be gazed on 
Bv me with adoration, bless these eyes. 
Ne'er happy but when she is made the object. 

Dur. is not here fine fooling ! 

Citlil. Thou great queen of love, 
Or real or imagined, be propitious 
To me, thy fniihful votary ! and I vow 
To erect a statue to thee, equal to 
Tliv picture by Apelles' skilful hand. 
Left as the great example of his art; 
And on thy thigh I'll hang a golden Cupid, 
His toiclies flaming, and his quiver full, 
For further honour! 

Dur. End this waking dream, 
And let's away. 

Enter C a list* and Mirtilla. 

Cnlh. Mirtilla! 

Cald. 'Tis her voice ! 

Cutis. Vou heard the horses' footing'! 

Mirt. Certainly. 

Calht. Speak low. My lord Adorio. 

Culd. I am dumb. 

Dur. The darkness friend us too ! Most honour'd 
mil dam, 
Adorio, your servant. 

Cults. As you are so, 
1 do command your silence till we are 
Furilier removed ; and let this kiss assure you 
(I thank the sable night that hides my blushes) 
I am wholly yours. 

Dur. Forward, you micher! 

Mirt. Madam. 
Think on Mirtilla. [£«t. 

Dur. I'll not now enquire 
The mystery of this, but bless kind fortune 
Favouring us beyond our hopes: yet, now'I think 

on't, 
I had ever a lucky hand in such smock night-work. 

[Exeunt. 



Enter Anonio and Servant. 

Ador. This slowness does amaze me ; sLe s not 
alter'd 
In her late resolution! 

lot. [uithin.] Get you to bed, 
And stir not on your life, till 1 command you. 

Ador. Her mother's voice ! listen. 

Serv. Here comes the daughter. 

Enter Mirtilla hastily. 

Mirt. Whither shall I fly for succour'' 

Ador. To these arms. 
Your castle of defence, impregnable. 
And not to be blown up : how your heart beats ! 
Take comfort, dear Calista, you are now 
In his protection that will ne'er forsake ycz. 
Adorio, your changed Adorio, swears 
Hy your best self, an oath he dares not break, 
He loves you, loves you in a noble way, 
His constancy firm as the poles of heaven. 
I will urge no reply, silence becomes you ; 
And I'll defer the music of your voice 
Till we are in a place of safety. 

Mirt. O blest error! [Exeunt. 

Enter Severing. 
Sev. *Tis midnight : how my fears of certain death, 
Beino- surprised, combat with my strong hopes 
Raised on my chaste wife's goodness ! 1 am grown 
A stranger in the city, and no wonder 
I have too long been so u;ito myself: 
Grant me a little truce, my troubled soul— 
I hear some fooling, ha! 

Enter Laval and Calipso. 

Calip. That is the house, 
And there's the key : you'll find my lady ready 
To enteitain vou ; 'tis not fit I should 
Stand gaping' by while you bill : I have brought 

you on, . 

Charo-e home, and come off with honour. [Exit, 

Sev. It makes this way. 

Lav. I am much troubled, and know not what 
to think 
Of this design. 

Sev. It still comes on. 

Lav. The watch ! 
I am befray'd. 

Sev. Should I now appear fearful. 
It would discover me : there's no retiring. 
My confidence must protect me ; I'll appear 
As if I walk'd the round*. Stand 1 

Lav. I am lost. 

Sev. The word ! 

Lav. Pray you forbear ; I am a stranger, 
And missing, this dark stormy night, my way 
To my lodging, you shall do a courteous office 
To guide me to it. 

Sev. Do you think I stand here 
For a page or a porter ? 

Lav. Good sir, grow not so high : 
I can justify my being abroad ; I am 
No pilfering vag.ibond, and what you are 
Stands yet in supposition ; and I charge yoa 
If you are an officer, bring me before your captain ; 
For if you do assault me, though not i2 (esi 



-I'll appear 



As if I walk'd the r..mi<l.l i. e. As jfl wasoneofOM 
ach. Ste The Picture, Aii U. bc. i. 



4*4 



THE GUARDIAN 



[Act III. 



Of wliat you can do alone, 1 will cry murder, 
And raise the streets. 

Sev. Upfoie mv captain, ha! 
And bring- my head to the block. Would we were 

parted, 
I have i;re-.iter cause to fear the watch than he. 
Lny. Will you do your duty? 
Sei). 1 must close with him : — 
Troih, sir, whate'er you are (yet by your language 
I guess you a gentleman), I'll not use the rigour 
Of my place upon you : only quit this street, 
For \our stay here will be dangerous; and good 
night ! 
Lav. The like to you, sir ; I'll grope out my way 
As well as I can. C) damn'd bawd ! — Fare you 
well, sir. [Exit. 

Sev. I am glad he's gone ; there is a secret pas- 
sage, 
Unknown to my wife, through which this key will 

guide me 
To her desired embraces, which must be, 
My presence being beyond her hopes, most wel- 
come. [Exit. 

SCENE VI. — ^ Eoarn in Severino's House, 
loLANTE i» heard speukiiig behind a curtain. 
Vol. lam full of perplex d thoughts. Imperious 
blood. 
Thou only art a tyrant ; judgment, reason, 
To whatsoever ihv edicts proclaim 
With va>.sal fear sul)scribe- against themselves. 
I am yet safe in the port, and see before me, 
If I put off, a rough tem|iesiuous sea. 
The raging winds of infamy from all fjuarters 
Assuring my destruction ; yet my lust 
Swelling the wanton sails (my understanding 
Stow'ii under hatches), like a desperate pilot, 
Commands me to urge on. My pride, my pride, 
Self-love, and over-value of mvself, 
Are justly punish 'd: I, that did deny 
My daughter's youth allow'd and lawful pleasures, 
And would not suffer in her those desires 
She suck'd in with my milk, now in my waning 
Am scorch'd and burnt up with libidinous fire, 
That must consume my tame ; yet still 1 throw 
More (uel on it. 

Enter Severino before the curtain. 

Sev. 'Tis her voice, poor turtle : 
_ She's now at her devotions, praying for 
Her banish'd mate ; alas, that fur my guilt 
Her innocence should suffer ! But I do 
Commit a second sin in mv deferring 
The ecstacy of joy that will transport ber 
Beyond herself, when she flies to my lips. 
And seals my welcome. — [Drutus the curtain,^ — 
Iblante '. 

m. Ha! 
Good angels guard me ! 

Sev. What do 1 behold ! 
Some sudden flash of lightning strike me blind. 
Or cleave the centre of the earth, that I 
May living find a sepulchre to swallow 
Me and mv shame together! 

lot. Guilt and horror 
Cnntound me in one instant ; thus surprised. 
The subileiv ot all wantons, though abstracted. 
Can show no seeming colour of excuse. 
To plead iu my defence. 



Sev. Is this her mourning ? 

killing obj'-ct ! The impiisou'd vapours 

Of raiie and sorrow make an eaith(|iiake in roe J 

This little world, like to a tottering lower, 

Not to he iiiidf r[)ropp'd ; — yet in mv fall 

I'll crush lliee with my ruins. [Drmcs a poinard. 

Vol. [hieeliiig.^ Good sir, hold : 
For, my delence unheard, you wrong your justice. 
If you proceed to execution. 
And will too late repent it. 

Sev. Thy defence ! 
To move it, adds (could it receive addition^ 
Ugliness to the loathsome leprosy 
That, in thy being a strum])Pt, hath already 
Infected every vein, and spreads itself 
Over this carrion, which would poison vultures 
And dogs, should they devour it. 'i"et, to stamp 
The seal of reprobation on thy soul, 
I'll hear thy impudent lies, borrow'd from hell. 
And proni|ited by the devil, thy tutor, whore ! 
'J hen send thee to him. 8peak. 

Jo/. Your Gorgon looks 
Turn me to stone, and a dead palsy seizes • 

My silenced tongue. 

Sev. O Fate, that the disease 
Were general in women, what a calm 
Should wretched men enjoy ! Speak, and be brief. 
Or thou shall suddenly feel me, 

lot. Be appeased, sir. 
Until I have delivered reasons for 
This solemn prejiaration. 

Sfv. On, 1 hear tliee. 

lot. With patience ask your memory ; 'twill in- 
struct you. 
This very day of the month, seventeen veara 

since. 
You married me. 

Sev. Grant it, what canst tbou urge 
From this ? 

lol. That day, since your proscription, sir. 
In the remembrance of it annually, 
The garments of my sorrow laid aside, 

1 have with pomp observed. 

Set). Alone! 

lol. 'i'he thoughts 
Of my felicity then, my misery now. 
Were the invited guests ; imagination 
Teaching me to believe that you were present. 
And a partner in it. 

Sev. Rare ! this real banquet 
To feast your fancy : tiend I could fiincy drink off 
These flagons to my health, or the idle thought 
Like Baal devour these delicates? the room 
Perfumed to take his nostrils ! this loosd habit, 
Which Messalina would not wear, put on 
To fire his lustful eyes! VVretch, am I grown 
So weak in thy opinion, that it can 
Flatter credulity that these gross tricks 
May be foisted on me? Where's my daughter? 

where 
The bawd your woman 1 answer me. — Calista ! 
Mirtilla ! they are disposed of, if not murdered. 
To make all sure ; and yet methinks your neigh- 
bour, 
Your whistle, agent, parasite, Calipso, 
Should be within call, when you hem, to usher in 
The close adulterer. [Lai/s hands on her 

lot. What will you do? 

Sev. Not kill thee, do not hope it ; I am not 
So near to reconcilement. Ha ! this scarf 



Scene VI.] 



THE GU ART) IAN. 



4t9 



The intended favour to your stnllion, now 

Is useful : do not strive ; — [He bindi herJ] tbus 

bound, expect 
All studied tortures ray assurance, not 
.My jealousy, thou art false, can pour upon thee. 
In darkness liowl thy inisci)ie(s; and if rankness 
Of tliy iri.agiiiation can conjure 
The ribald [liitiier*}, glut thyself with him; 
I will try Aim, and in another room 
Deteriniue of my vengeance. Oh, my heartstrings ! 
[Kill with the tapers. 

I'lil, IMost miserable woman ! and yet sitting 
A judp^e ill mine own cause upon myself, 
1 ciinid not mitigate llie heavy ddom 
My incensed husband must pronounce upon me. 
In my intents i am guilty, and for them 
Musi suffer the same punishment, as if 
I had in fact otl'ended. 

Culip [u((/u'h.] Bore my eyes out 
If you prove me faulty : I'll but tell my lady 
What caused your stay, and instantly present you. 

• Enter Calipso. 

How's this ? no lights ! What new device? will she 

]ilav 
At blindinan's-bufT? Madam! 

lot. Upon thy life, 
Speak ia a lower key. 

CuUf). 'i'he mystery 
Of this, sweet lady ? where are you? 

liil. Here, last bound. 

Ci//i/<. I'jy whom ? 

loi. I'll whisper that into thine ear, 
And then farewell for ever. 

C'a/(/). How! my lord ! 
I am ill a fever: horns upon horns grow on Iiim ! 
Could lie pick no hour but this to break a bargain 
Almost made up ? 

loL What shall we do? 

CuUp. Betray him ; 
I'll instantly raise the watch. 

I'dl. And so make me 
For ever infamous. 

Ciilip. Hie gentleman, 
The rarest gentleman, is at the door. 
Shall he lose his labour? Since that you must 

j)erish, 
'Twill allow a woman's spleen in you to fall 
Deservedly ; give him his answer, madam. 
1 have on tlio sudden in my head a strange whim ; 
• But 1 will tirst unbind you. 

I'ul,. i\ow what follows? 

Cutip. 1 will supply your place: and, bound, give 
me 
Your mantle, take my night-gown ; send away 
The gentleman satisfied. 1 know my lord 
Wants jiower to hurt you, I perhaps may get 
A kiss by the bargain, and all this may prove 
But some neat love-trick ; if he should grow furious. 
And (|iiesiioii me, I am resolved to put on 
An obstinate silence. Pray you dispatch the gen- 
tleman, 
His co-Jiage may cool. 

lot. I'll speak with him, but if 
To any base or lusttul end, may mercy 
At my last gasp forsake me ! [Exit, 

• T/.e ribald [hither,] (jlut thiislf'mlh him ;^ The 
word iiiclii.-i<l ill biaikrts,<ir one o: a similar ineaiiing, sceius 
necessary lo cuiiiplete the sense as well as ihe nietie. 



Calip. I was too rash. 
And have done what I wish undone : say ho sboald 

kill me? 
1 have run my head in a fine noose, and I smell 
'I'he pickle 1 am in ! 'las. how 1 shudder 
Still more and more ! would 1 were a she Priapus, 
Stuck up in a garden to fright away the crows, 
So I were out of the house ! she's at her jileasure, 
Whate'ershe said ; and I must endure the torture — 
He comes ; I cannot pray, my fears will kill me. 

Re-enter Severing with a knife in his hand, thruwiTig 
open the doors violentlq, 

Sev. It is a deed of darkness, and I need 
No light to guide me ; there is something tells me 
I am too slow-|)aced in my wreak, and trifle 
In my revenge. All hush'd! no sigh nor groan 
To witness her compunction ! can guilt sleep. 
And innocence be open-eyed ? even now. 
Perhaps, she dreams of tlie adulterer. 
And in her fancy hugs Lim. Wake, thou strumpet, 
And instantly give up unto my vengeance 
The villain that defiles my bed ; discover 
Both what and where he is, and suddenly, 
That 1 may bind you face to face, then sew you 
Into one sack, and from some steep rock hurl yoo 
Into the sea together : do not play with 
The lightning of my rage; break stubborn silence, 
And answer my demands ; will it not be ? 
I'll talk no longer ; thus I mark tlipe for 
A common strumpet. [Strikes at her with the knif*^ 

Calip. Oh! 

Sev. Thus stab these arms 
That have stretch'd out themselves to grasp a 
stranger. 

Calip. Oh! 

Sev. This is but an induction ; I will draw 
The curtains of the tragedy hereafter: 
Howl on, 'tis music tome. [Exit. 

Cnlip. He is gone. 
A kiss, and love-tricks! he hath villanous teetli, 
May sublimed mercury draw them ! if all dealers 
In my ]irofession were ])aid thus, ther^ wouln be 
A dearth of cuckolds. Oh my no.-,e ! 1 had one: 
iMy arms, my arms! 1 dare not cry for fear ; 
Cursed desire of gold, how art thou jiunish'd ! 

lie-enter Ibt.ANTi;. 

Tid. Till now I i.ever truly knew myself. 
Nor by all principles and lectures read 
In chastity's cold school, was so instructed 
As by her contrary, I ow base and deform 'd 
Loose appetite is ; as iji a few short minutes 
'I'his stranger hath, and feelingly, deliver'd. 
Oh ! that I could recal my bai; intentions. 
And be as 1 vvas yesterday, untainted 
In my desires, as I am still in fact, 
I iliaiik his temiierance ! 1 could look undaunted 
Ujioii my husband's rage, and smile at it. 
So strong the guards and sure defences are 
Of armed innoceiue ; but I will endure 
'J he penance of my sin, the only means 
Is left to purge it. I'le day-breaks. Calipso! 

Citlip. Here, madam, here. 

loL Hath my lord visited thee? 

Calip. Hell take such visits ! these stabb'd.arms, 
and loss 
Of my nose you left fast on, may gire you a relish 
What a night 1 have had oft, and what you bad 

suffered. 
Had I not supplied your place. 



426 



THE 6UARDTAN. 



[Act 111. 



Vol. I truly njrievfi for't ; 
Did not my liusband sp";ik to thee? 

Calip. Yes, I heard liim, 
And Celt him, ecce signtim, with a mischief! 
But he knew not me ; like a trup-hred Spii-tan boy* 
With silence I endured it, he could not get 
One syllable from me. 

lol. Something may be fashion'd 
From this; invention help me! I must be sudden. 

[Unbinds tier. 
Thou art free, exchange, quick, quick ! now bind me 
' sure. 
And leave me to my fortune. 

Gilip. Pray you consider 
The loss of my nose ; had I been but carted for 

you. 
Though wash'd with mire and chamber-lie, I had 
Examples to excuse me ; but my nose, 
My nose, dear ladv ! 

lol. (Jet off, I'll send to thee. [Exit Calipso. 

If so, it may take ; if it fiiil, 1 must 
Sutler whatever follows. 

Re-enter Severing with a taper. 

Sev. I have searched 
In every corner of the house, yet find not 
My daughter, nor her maid ; nor any print 
Of a man's footing, which, this wet night, would 
Be easily discern'd, the ground being soft, 
At his coming in or going out. 

lot. 'Tis hef, 
And within hearing; heav'n forgive this feigningf, 
I being forced to't to preserve my life, 
To be better spent hereafter ! 

.Sev. I begin 
To stagger, and my love, if it knew how 
(Her ])iety heretofore, and fame remembered), 
Would plead in her excuse. 

I'dl. You blessed f^uardiaiis 
Of matrimonial faith, and just revengers 
Of such as do in fact oiFend against 
Your sacred rites and ceremonies ; by all titles 
And holy attributes you do vouchsafe 
To be invoked, look down with saving pity 
Upon my matchless suiferings ! 

•Set?. At her devotions: 
Affliction makes her repent. 

lot. Look down 
Upon a wretched woman, and as 1 
Have kept the knot of wed.lock, in the temple 
By the priest fasten'd, firm (though in loose wishes 
I yield I have offended) ; to strike blind 



• like a true-bred Spartan boy. 1 The old copy 

read'/ox. The amendment by Mr. M. Mason. 

+ lol. -Tis he. 

And within hearing ; heav'n forgive this feigning,] All 
the editiiins re. id : 
'Tis he 

And I'm within hearing ; heaven, &c. 
The unmetiicHl iiirn of i|,c line shows that something is 
wrong ; and, indeed, what lolanle wanted was, that her hus- 
band sbou Id be within heai ing, that she might begin her ad- 
jiiraliunb. " To remaik," as Johnson says (on another occa- 
sion), " the impmbahility of the ticiion, or the absurdity of 
the conduct of this strange interlude, were to w-StecriticijiD 
upon unresisting imbecility." 



The eyes of jealousv, that see a crime 
I never yet committed, atid to itte me 
From the unjust suspicion of my lord, 
Restore my manvr'd face and wounded arms 
To their late strength and beauty. 

Sev. Does she hope 
To be cured by miracle ? 

Vol. 'J'his minute I 
Perceive with joy my orisons heard and granted • 
Yon ministers of mercy, who unseen. 
And by a supernatural means, hav-e done 
This work of heavenly charity, be ever 
Canonized for't ! 

Sev. I did not dream, 1 heard her. 
And I have eyes, too ; they cannot deceive me : 
If I have no belief in their assurance*, 
I must turn sceptic. Ha I this is tlie hand. 
And this the fatal instrument : these drops 
Of blood, that gush'd forth from her face and arms. 
Still fresh upon the floor. This is something more 
Than wonder or amazement; I profess 
I am astonish'd. 

lot. Be incredulous still, • 

And go on in your barbarous rage, led to it 
By your false guide, suspicion; have no faith 
In my so long tried loyalty, nor believe 
That wliich you see ; and for your satisfaction, 
My doubted innocence clear'd by miracle. 
Proceed, tliese veins have now new blood, if you 
Resolve to let it out. 

Sev. I would not be fool'd 
With easiness of belief, and faintly give [Aside, 

Credit to this stiaiige wonder : 'lis now thought on : 
In a fitter place and time I'll sound this further. 

[U lilies her. 
How can I expiate my sin ' or hope, 
Though now I write myself thy shive, the service 
Of mv whole life csin win thee to pronounce 
Despair'd-of pardon ? Shall I kneel? that's poor, 
J hy mercy must urge more in mv defence. 
Than I can fancy ; wilt thou have revenge? 
My lieart lies open to thee. 

lol. J'liis is needless 
To me, who in the duty of a wife, 
Know I must suffer. 

Sev. 'I'hou art made up of goodness, 
And from my confidence that I am alone 
'I'he object of thy ])Ieasures, until death 
Divorce us, we will know no separation. 
Without inquiring why, as sure thou wilt not. 
Such is thy meek obedienie, thy jewels ^ 

And choicest orniiments pack'd uj), thou shall 
Along with me, and as a queen be honour'd 
By such as style me sovereign. Already 
]\ly banishment is rep^al'd, thou being present : 
The Neapolitan court a place of exile 
When thou art absent : my stay here is mortal, 
Of which thou art too sensible, I perceive it ; 
Come, dearest lolante, with this breath 
All jealousy is blown away. [Embraces her, 

I'lil. Be constant. [Eieviit. 



* If I have nn belief in their .issurance,] So the qnailo, 
Coxcter misprinttd it — in their a#^i47aBce; and Mr. M. Majoa 
ridiculously followed him. 



SCENS T.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



i9* 



ACT IV 



SCENE I.— The Cotmtry. 

A Noise within ; — then enter Durazzo, Caldoro, 
and Servant, toith Calista in their arms. 

Ditr. Hell take the stumbling; jade ! 

Cald. Heaven help the lady ! 

Serv. The horse hath broke his neck. 

Di(r. Would thine were crack'd too, 
So the lady had no harm ! Give her fresh air, 
'Tis but a swoon. 

Cald. 'Tis more, she's dead. 

Dur, Examine 
Her limbs if they be whole : not too high, not too 

high. 
You ferret: this is no coney-borough for you. 
How do you find her? 

Cald. No breatli of comfort, sir: too cruel fate ! 
Had I still pined away, and lingered under 
The modesty of just and honest hopes. 
After a long consumption, sleep and death 
To me had been the same ; but now, as 'twere, 
Possess'd of all my wishes, in a moment 
To have them ravish'd from me! suffer shipwreck 
In view of the port ! and, like a half-starved 

beggar, 
No sooner in compassion clothed, but coffin'd ! — 
Malevolent destinies, too cunning in 
Wretched Cakloro's tortures ! O Calista, 
If thy immortal part hath not already 
],eft this fiiir palace, let a beam of light 
IJawn from thine eye, in this Cimmeiian darkness, 
I'o gui 'e my shaking hand to touch the anchor 
Of hope in thy recovery. 

Calis. Oh ! 

Uin: She lives ; 
Disturb lier not ; she is no righf-bred woman 
If she die with one fall ; some of my ac(]uaintance 
Have ta'en a thousand merrily, and are still 
Excellent wrestlers at the close hug. 

Cald. Good sir — 

DiiT. Priihee be not angry, I should speak 
tlius if 
My mother were in her place. 

Cai<l. But liad you heard 
The music of the language which she used 
'J'o me, believed Adorio, as she rode 
Behind me ; little thinking that she did 
Embrace Caldoro — 

Calis. Ah, Adorio ! 

Diir. Leave talking, I conceive it. 

Calis. Are ynu safe ? 

Cald. And raised, like you, from death to life, to 
heur you. 

Calis. Hear my defence then, era I take my 
veil off, 
A sim[ile maid's defence, which, looking on you, 
I faintiv could deliver ; willingly 
I am become your prize, and therefore use 
Your vitrtory nobly ; heaven's bright eye, the sun, 
Draws up the grossest vapours, and I ho])e 
1 ne'er shall prove an envious cloud to darken 
The S|rlendcurof your merits. I could urge 
With what disdain, n-,iy scorn, I have declined 
The shadows of insinuating pleasures 
Tendered by all men else, you only being 



The object of my hopes: that cruel prince 

To whom the olive-branch of peace is offered. 

Is not a conqueror, but a bloody tyrant, 

If he refuse it ; nor should you wish a triumph, 

Because Calista's humble : I have said. 

And now expect your sentence. 

Dtir. What a throng 
Of clients would be in the court of Love, 
Were there many such she-advocates ! art thou 

dumb ? 
Canst thou say nothing for thyself? 

Cald. Dear lady, 
Open your eyes, and look upon the man. 
The man you have elected for your judge. 
Kneeling to you for mercy. 

Calis. I should know 
This voice, and something more than fear I am 
Deceived; but now I look upon his face, 
I am assured I am wretched. 

Dur. Why, good lady ? 
Hold her up, she'll fall again before her time else ; 
The youth's a well- timbered youth, look on hia 

making ; 
His hair curled naturally-; he's whole-chested too, 
And will do his work as well, and go through-stilch 

with't. 
As any Adorio in the world, my state on't ! 
A chicken of the right kind ; and if he prove 

not 
A cock of the game, cuckold him first, and after 
Make a capon of him. 

Calis. I'll cry out a rape. 
If thou unhand me not : would I had died 
In my late trance, and never lived to know 
I am bet ray 'd ! 

Ditr. To a young and active husband ! 
Call you that treachery ? there are a shoal of 
Young v\enches i'the city, would vow a pilgrimage 
Beyond Jerusalem, to be so cheated. — 
To her again, you milk-sop ! violent storms 
Are soon blown over. 

Ciilis. Hi)w could'st thou, Caldoro, 
With such a frontless impudence arm thy hopes 
So far, as to believe I might consent 
To this lewd practice? have I not often told thee 
Howe'er I pitied thy misplaced affection, 
I could not answer it ; and that there was 
A strong anti[)athy between our passions. 
Not to be reconciled? 

Cald. Vouchsafe to hear me 
With an impartial ear, and it will take from 
The rigour of your censure. Man was mark'd 
A friend in his creation to himself, 
And may with fit ambition conceive 
The greatest blessings, and the highest honours 
Appointed for him, if he can achieve them 
'I'he right and noble way : I grant you were 
Tlieend of my design, but still pursued 
With a becoming motlesty, heaven at length 
Being ])leased, anil not my arts, to further it. 

Dur. Now he comes to her: on, boy. 

Cald. I have served you 
With a religious zeal, and burne the ba:thea 
Of your neglect, if i may call it so. 
Beyond the patience of a man : to prove this. 



428 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[Act IV. 



I have seen those eves with pleasant glances play* 

Upon Ailoiii's, like I'ha-be's shine, 

Gililiiii;- ii crvjiiiil river; and your lip 

Rise ii|. in civil courtsliip to meet his, 

Whili- 1 liit mine with envy : yet these favours, 

Plowe'.'i- nu ))n.ssioiis ra^ed, could not provoke me 

To one ■■■■cA of rt-beliion against 

My lovaliv to you the sovereigQ 

To whom I owe obedience. 

Culis. iMv bln.-hes 
Confess this for a truth. 

Dm . A fl;i;r of truce is 
Hutiii' our ill ihis acknowledgment. 

Calil. 1 could add, 
But that vou may interpret what I speak 
'J'he nndicH of a lival, rather than 
Mv due respect to your deserts, how faintly 
Adorio hiiru return'd thanks to the bounty 
Of voiir alfi ction, ascribing it 
As a iribuiH to his worth, and not in you 
An act of mercy : coulJ he el.-e, invited 
(As bv your words 1 understood) to take you 
To his I irotfCt ion, grossly neglect 
So grai idus an otter, or give power 
To fati' i!-^ It to cross him ? O, di ar madam. 
We are all the bidls of time, toss'd to and fro, 
From the plough unto the throne, and back 

again : 
Tinder I lie swing of destiny mankind suffers. 
And it ajipcar^, by an unchanged decree. 
You were appointed mine; wise nature always 
Aiuiiiijr at due proportion : and if so, 
I may belit^ve wi'h confidence, heaven, in pity 
Of my sinc-re affection, and long patience, 
Directed vou, by a most hlessed error, 
To yoiir vow'd servant's bosom. 

Diir. iSy my huliilam, 
Tickling pliil.>sO|)hv ! 

Cdli-. I am. sir, too weak 
To aryue w iih vou ; but my stars Lave better, 
I hope, provided for me. 

CaUI. It there be 
Disparils between us, 'tis in your 
Com|)assioii to level it. 

Diir. (live lire 
To the mine, nnd blow her up. 

Calii. 1 iiin sensible 
Of \vh;it you have endured ; but on the sudden. 
With my unusual travel, and late bruise, 
I am exceeding weary ; in yon grove, 
While 1 rejiose myself, be you my guard ; 
My sjiiriis with some little rest revived, 
We will consider further : for my part 
You shall receive mode-t and gentle answers 
To your demands, though short, perhaps, to make 

you 
Full satisfaction. 



• J have seen those eyes viUk pleasant glances play 
l/pnn Adiirii's, &c.] 'J'liis is a most b<-aiitit'iil >iii)ile ; 

in 'J'he Winter's Tale wo have laie very much like 

it: — 

" He fays, lie loves my daagliler; 

I tliiiilv Ml too: for never g^z'd llie moon 
rpoii the WHter, as he'll st.iiul, hiiiI read. 
As tweie, my claiiuliier's e\es " Coxeter. 
I would ii.tdepiive llie le.idtr of tlie.-e prettj lines; thonuli 
] raiiliot avoid ..b-erviiii;, tli,itthc\ pit sent an imas;e totally 
distinct lioiii that wiiioli tin y die ci.eil to e\ei;i|ilify. One 
is the picline of loinpl.cr.int aftection, the other of rapturous 
dcliuht: the language uf both is siu><ularly happy. 



Cald. I am exalted 
In the employment ; sleep secure, I'll bo 
Your vigilant centinel . 

Calls. Hut I command vou. 
And as you hope for future i;race, obey me, 
Presume not with one stolen kiss to disturb 
'J'he quiet of my slumbers ; let your temperance. 
And not your lust, watch o'er me. 

Cnld. ftly desires 
Are frozen, till your pity shall dissolve them. 

Dur. Frozen ! think not of frost, fool, in the dog 
days. 
Remember tlie old adage, and make use oft, 
Occimons bald hehind. 

Calis. Is this your uncle? 

Cald. And guardian, madam ; at your better 
leisure, , 

When I have deserved it, you may give him thanks 
For his many favours to me. 

Ctil.is. He appears 
A pleasant gentleman. 

J [Ejeiint Ciildirroaiid Calista, 

Dur. You should find me so. 
But iliat I do hate incest. I grow heavy ; 
Sirrah, provide fresh h6rses; I'll seek out 
Some hollow tree, and dreatn till you return. 
Which I cliitrge you to hasten. 

Sen. With all care, sir. \_Eieunt, 



SCENE II. — The Coutitnj. A Ronm in Adorio's 
House. 

Enter Cario with several Villagers. 

Car. Let your eyes be rivelied to my heels, and 

miss not 
A hair's breadth of my footing ; our dance has 
A most melodious note, and I coinmand you 
To have ears like hares this tiight, for my lord's 

honour. 
And something for my worship: your reward is 
'I'o be drunk-biind like moles, in the wine-cellar; 
And though you ne'er see after, 'tis the better ; 
You were born for this night's service. And do you 

hear. 
Wire-string and cat-gut men, anc^ strong- breath'd 

hobovs. 
For the credit of your calling, have not your instru- 
ments 
To tune when you should strike np ; but twang.it 

perfectly. 
As you would read your neck-verse : and you, 

warbler. 
Keep your wind-pipe moist, tiiat you may not spit 

and hem. 
When you should make division. Mow I sweat! 
Authority is troublesome: — [A honi uilhin.] — they 

are come, 
I know it by the cornet that I placed 
On the hill to give me notice ; marshal yourselves 
I'the rear, the van is yours. 

Enter Adorio, Miktii.i.a, Camh.lo, Lentulo, and 

DONATO. 

i\ow chant it sprightly. 

A SONG*. 



• See this SoNC, with that in Act V. sc. i., at the conclusion 
(if the play. 



Scene ll.l 



THE GUARDIAN. 



■K9 



Ador. A well-peiiu'd ditty. 
Camil. Not iii suii";. 
Ador. What follows 1 

Cur. Use your eyes ; if ever, now your master- 
piece. 

A DANCE. 

Ador. 'Tis well perform'd ; take tliat, but not 
tVoni me, 
'Tis your new ladv's bounty, thank her for it ; 
All that I have is her's. 

Cur. I must liave thrpe shares 
For niv pains and properties, the rest shall be 
Divided eqiiallv. [^Exeuitl Carlo and Villagers. 

Milt. Mv real fears 
Begin, and soon my painted comforts vanish 
In my discovery. 

Aiiiir. Welcome to your own ! 
You have (a wonder in a woman) kept 
Tiiree long hours' silence ; and the greater, holding 
Your own choice in your arms, a blessing for which 
I will be thankful to you : nay, unmask, 
And let mint; e)e and ears together feast, 
Too long by you kept empty. <>h, ynu want 
Your woman's help, I'll do tier office for you. 

[7'ufces ojf her mask. 
Mirtilla! 

Ctiniil. It is she, and wears the habit 
In which Calista three days since appeared 
As she came from the (emple. 

Lent. All ihis trouble 
For a poor wailing maid ! 

Don. We are grossly gull'd. 

Ador. Thou child of impudence, answer me, and 
truly. 
Or, though the tongues of angels pleaded mercy, 
Tortures shall force it from thee. 

Mirt. Innocence 
Is free and opt-n-breas'ed ; of what crime 
Stand 1 afcu-.ed, uiy lord! 

Ador. What crime! no language 
Can sjieak it to the height; 1 shall become 
Discour^e for fools and drunkards. How was this 
Contrived ! who help'd thee in the plot 1 discover; 
Were no' Calistu's^ids iu't] 

mirt. No, on my lil'e ; 
Nor am 1 faulty. 

Ad'ir. No! what IMay-game's this? 
Didst thou treat with me for iby mistresss* favours. 
To make sale of thine own ? 

Mirt. \\ itii hnr and you 
1 have dealt faithfull)*: you had her letter 
With the jevvfl 1 presented : she received 
Your courteous answer, and prepared herself 
To be removed by you : and howsoever 
You take delight to hear what you have done, 
From my simplicity, and make my weakness 
The subject i;f your mirih, as it suits well 
With my condition, 1 know you have her 
In your possessiim. 

Ador. How I lias she left 
Her mother's house! 

Mirt, Vou drive this nail too far. 
Indeed she deeply vow'd at her departure 
To send some of your lordship's servants for me 
(Though you were pleased to take the paius your- 
self), 

• / hniv dealt faithfully :] So the ol<l copy. Coxeter and 
Mr. M. Mason ledd faithful, which iitKily dialroys the 
metre : but there is no end ot Ihe&c blumkrs. 



That I might still be near her, as a shadow 
To follow hfr, the substance. 
Adnr. She is gone then ? 

Mirt. 'I his is too much ; but, good my lord, for* 
give me, 
I come a virgin hither to attend 
My noble mistress, though J must confess 
I look with sore eyes upon ht-r good fortune. 
And wish it were mine own. 

Ador. 'J'heii, as it seems, 
You do yourself aftect me? 
Mirt. Should she hear me, 
And in her sudden fury kill me for't, 
I durst not, sir, deny it ; since you rre 
A man so foim'd, that not poor I aljne. 
But all our sex, like me, 1 think, stai.d bound 
To be enamour'd of you. 

Ador. O my fate ! 
How justly am 1 piinish'd, in thee punisli'd. 
For my defended wantonness* I I, that scorn'd 
The mistress when she sought me, imw I would 
Uj)on my knees receive her, am become 
A prey unto her bnndwoman, my honour too 
Neglected tbi this puichate. Art thou one of thoM 
Ambitious serving women, who contemning 
The embraces of their equals, aim to be 
The wrong way ladyfied by a lord ] was there 
No forward page or footman in the city 
To do the feat, that in thy lust 1 am chosen 
To be the executioner? JJarst thou hope 
I can descend so low ? 

Mirt. Lireat lords sometimes 
For change leave calver'd salmon, and eat spratsf '• 
In modesty I dare speak no more. 

Cumil. If 'twere 
A fish-day, though you like it not, I could say 
I have a sion.ach, and would content myself 
With this jirelty wbiting-mopj. 

Ador. IJi-icover yet 
How thon cam'st to my hands. 

Mirt. My lady gone. 
Fear of her niotiier's rage, she being found absent, 
Moved me to tly ; and (|Uittiiig of ilie house, 
You were pleas'd, unask'd, to comtbrt me (I used 
No sorceries to bewitch you) , then vouchsafed 
(Thanks ever lo the darkness of ibe night !) 
To hug me in your arms . and 1 had wmng'd 
flly breeding near the court, had 1 refused it. 

Ador. 'J'his is still moie bitter; cans-t thou guess 
to whom 
Thy lady did commit herself? 

Mirt. 1 hey were 
Horsemen, as you are. 

Ador. In the name of wonder, 

• For my deteuded wantonness .' [ i. t. foi bidden, intei- 
dieted. 

t Mirt. Great lords ^oinelimes 

For chanye leavf cdlv.T d sdhiion, and eat sprats:] See 
Maid of Honour, Act 1 1 l.5c. i. 

I : — ami would content mi/self 

ff'itk this pri'tly wliitin^nioi).] l'hi~ woid oci in * in Bean- 
niont and Fktchci, in lliu Miblinie stiains of IJnsloph.i: 
" Tliu waiali'iint; seas, who e walerj tire 

W aslies t!ie whittny-mnps." Maid in the MHi. 

"A tvliitinynwi)," .-ays tl.eir editor, -'is ixsortoffsh so 

called!" but wliillier it is.ist.d (.r a sol.uid i; e, he dues not 

determine. Anl -o iiote.s are written ! A whUviyiiinp is a 
yonnii wliiiin<;. I'utlei.li.iin, in his Art of k'nylmh Foesie, 
illiisliales the figure •' nieiosis, or the di- bier," by terniing 
Wis mnr-e his prei tie moppe ; nndir.-t.ii.dnis;, lie sa) s, "by 
this tnojj^K., liiile in ely l,.dy, or lend, r >..nng thins;, tor 
so we call little li-lie>, lh:il hf untciiiiir lo thir fi-Myrowth, 
moppes ; as, wh.tiny mopjies, j;,muMiimoppes, &.C. p. 184. 



♦30 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[Act V. 



How could they p;iss the port, where you expected 
My coining .' 

Camil. is'ow 1 think u]ion't, theie came 
Three mouiifpd bv, iind behind one n woman 
Embracing fast the man that rode before her. 

Lent. I kne>v t!ie men, but she was veil'd. 

Ador. Wliat were tliey ? 

Lent. The first the lonl Durazzo, and the second 
Your rival, young Caldoro ; it was he 
That carried the wench behind him. 

Voit. Tiie last a servant. 
That spurr'd last afier them. 

Ador. Worse and worse ! 'twas she ! 
Too much assurance of her love undid me. 
Why did you not stay them ? 

Don. We had no such commission. 

Camil. Or say we had, who durst lay fingers on 
The angry old ruffian? 

Lent. For my part, I had rather 
Take a baited bull by the liorus. 

Ador. You are sure friends 
For a man to build on ! 

Camil. They are not far off. 
Their horses appear'd spent too ; let's take fresh 

ones 
And coast the country, ten to one we find them. 

Ador. I will not eiit nor sleep, uiitd I iiave them : 
Moppet, you shall along too. 

Mi. t. So you ]ilease 
I may keep my phice beliind you, I'll sit fast, 
And nde with you all tlie world o'er. 

Camil. A good girl. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— Naples. A Street. 
Enter Laval and Calipso. 

Lav. Herhusbaiid? >everino ? 

Calij). You may see 
His handiwork by my fl'it face ; tio bridge 
Left to support mv organ, if 1 had one : 
The comi'ort is. 1 am now secure from the crincomes, 
I can lose nothing that wav *. 

Lai), Uoit tliou not know 
What became o( the lady ? 

Call]). A nose was enough to part with, 
I think, in the service ; I durst stay no longer, 
But 1 am full assured tlie house is empty, 
Neither poor lady, ihiughier, servant, left there. 
I only guess lie hath forced ihem to go with him 
To the dangerous fore.st. where he lives like a king 
Among the banditti, and liow there he hath used them, 
Is more than to be fear'd. 



Lav. I have played the fool. 

And kept myself too long concealed, sans ques- 
tion. 

With the danger of her life. Leave me, The 

king ! 

Enter Alphonso and Captain. 

Calip. The surgeon must be paid. 

Lay. Take that. 

Calip. I thank you ; 
I have got enough by my trade, and I will build 
An hospital only for noseless bawds 
('Twill speak my charity), and be myself 
The governess of the sisterhood. [Exit, 

Alph. I may 
Forget this in your vigilance hereafter ; 
But as I am a king, if you provoke me 
The second time with negligence of this kind. 
You shall deeply smart for't. 

Lav. The king's moved. 

Alph. 'Vo suffer 
A murderer, by us proscribed, at his pleasure 
To pass and re|)ass through our guards ! 

Co/if. Your pardon 
For this, my gr cious lord, binds me to be 
More circumspect hereafter. 

Alph. Look vou be so. 
Monsieur I aval, you were a suitor to me 
For Severino's pardon. 

Lav. I was so, my good lord. 

Alph. \o\i might have met him here, to have 
thanked you for't, 
As now 1 ui.derstand. 

Lav. Si> it is rumoured ; 
And hearing in the city of his boldness, 
I would not say contempt of your decrees. 
As then 1 pleaded mercy, under pardon, 
I now as much admire the slowness of 
Your justice (tliough it force you to some trouble) 
In fetching Ijim in. 

Alph, 1 have considered it. 

Lav. He liath ot late, as 'tis suspected, done 
An outrage on liis wife, I'orgetting nature 
'i'o his own daughter, in whom, sir, 1 have 
Some nearer intere.st than 1 stand bound to 
In my humanity, which I gladly would 
Make known ui;to your highness. 

Alph. Go along. 
You shall have opi ortunity as we walk : 
See you what I committed to your chaige 
In readiness, and without noise. 

Cup. 1 shall, sir. [EisunU 



ACT V. 



SCENE I — The Countrif. A Forest. 
Enter Cr. audio and all the Banditti, making a guard ; 
StyEiiiNO and Iolakik ivilh oaken-leaved garlands; 
Singers. 

A SONG. 

Sev. Here, as a queen, share in my sovereignty. 
The iron toils pitch'd by the law to take 
The forfeiture of my life, 1 have broke throuo-h 

• / am new secure from the crincomes, 

J can luse nothing that way ] Tliia passage scarcely 



And secure in the guards of these few snVjecta, 
Smile at Alphonso's fury , though I grieve for 
'i'he fatal cause, in your good brother's loss. 
That does compel roe to this course. 

Lul. Revive not 
A sorrow long since dead, and so diminisii 
The lull fruition of those joys, wliich now 

deserves a note: but C:iiipso's iiie:Miiii<; is, tli.it, by ilu- pre 
vioiis loss of lier no-e, flie is seciirtd lioni one ut tlu- evils 
atlciidant on ilie disease, yet known ;iinon;; l)ie vnlgrtr Uv 
the naii.e wliicli sue 4931^11:1 to it. 



Scene II.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



431 



I stand possess'd of: womanish fear of danijer 
That iniiy pursue this, I shuke off, and with 
A masculine spirit. 

Sev. ' lis well said. 

luL In you. sir, 
1 live ; and wlien, or by the course of nature, 
Or violence, you must fall, the end of my 
Devotions is, that one and the same hour 
May make us fit for heaven. 

ie«. 1 join with you 
In my votes that way* -. but how, Iblante, 
You that have spent your past days, slumbering in 
The down of quiet, can endure tlie hardness 
And rough condition of our present being. 
Does much disturb me. 

]'6L These woods, Severino, 
Shall more than seem to me a populous city. 
You being present ; here are no allurements 
To tempt my frailty, nor the conversation 
Of such whose choice behaviour or discourse 
May nourish jealous thoughts. 

Hev, True, loiante. 
Nor shall suspected chastity stand in need here 
To be clear'd by miracle. 

Iiil. Still on that string. 
It yields har>l) discord. 

Sev. I had forgot myself, 
And wish I miglit no more remember it. 
The day wears, sirs, without one prize brought in 
As tribute to your queen : Claudio, divide 
Our squadron in small parties, let them watch 
All passages, that none escape without 
The payment of our customs. 

Claud, Shall we bring in 
The persons with the pillage ? 

Sev. By all means ; 

Without reply, about it: we'll retire 

[^Eietiitt Claudio und the rest. 
Into my cave, and there at large discourse 
Our fortunes past, and study some apt means 
To find our daughter ; since, she well disposed of, 
Our happiness were perfect. 

I'dl. \Ve must wait 
With patience heaven's pleasure. 

Sev 'lis my purpose. [^Exeunt, 



SCENE II. — Anotlier part of the Forest, 

Enter Lentulo and Camillo. 

Lent, Tet the horses graze, they are spent, 

Camil. I am sure I'm sleepy, 
And nodded as I rode; here was a jaunt 
I' the dark through thick and thin, and all to no 

purpose ! 
What a dulness grows upon me ! 

Lent. I can hardly 
Hold ope mine eyes to say so. How did we lose 
Adoria ? [7"/,^^, „•( down, 

Camil, He, Donato, and tlie wench. 
That cleaves to him like birdlime, took the right 

hand ; 
But this place is our rendezvous. 

Lent. No matter, 
We'll talk of that anon heigh ho ! [Falls asleep. 



Camil. He's fast already. 
Lentulo ! I'll take a nap too. 



[Fails aiteep. 



In my votcs/Aa/ u)a;/\ i. e. in my prayers; I know not 
wlio IliI tliiwrty to tliis p. (l.inlicadi), tiimuf the Lalijiword, 
votum, but 1 tiud it in Jj„son,aiia olliirs. 



Enter ADonio, IMirtilla, and Donato. 

Ador. Was ever man so crost ? 

Milt. So blest ; this is 
The finest wild-goose cliase ! 

Ador What's that you m'ltter ? 

Mirt. A short piayer, that you may fin 1 \our 
wish'd-for love. 
Though I am lost for ever. 

Don, Pretty fool ! 
Who have we here? 

Ador, This is Camillo. 

Mii-t, This signior Lentulo. 

Ador. Wake them. 

Von. They'll not stir. 
Their eyelids are glued, and mine too ; by your 

favour, 
I'll follow thtir example. [Lies down. 

Ador. Are you not weary ? 

Mirt. I know not what the word means, while 
travel 
To do you service. 

Ador. You expect to reap 
The harvest of your flattery ; but your hopes 
Will be blasteil,I assure you. 

Mirt, So you give leave 
To sow it, as in me a sign of duty, 
Though you deny your beams of gracious favour 
To ripen it, with patience I shall suffer, 

Ador. No more ; my resolution to find 
Calista, bv what accident lost I know not. 
Binds me not to deny myself what nature 
Exacteih from me : to walk alone afoot 
(For my horse is tired) were madness, I must sleep. 
You could 113 down too ? 

Mirt. Willingly ; so you please 
To use me — 

Ador, Use thee ! 

Mirt. As your pillow, sir; 
I dare presume no further. Noble sir, 
Do not too much contemn me ; generous feet 
Spurn not a fawning spaniel. 

Ador. Well ; sit down. 

Mirt, I am i-eady, sir. 

Ador. So ni.iible ! 

Milt, Love is active, 
Nor would I he a slow thirg : rest secure, sir; 
On my maidenhead, I'll not ravish you. 

Ador. For once. 
So far I'll trust you. [Lays his head on her Ictp, 

Mirt. All the joys of rest 
Dwell on your eyelids ; let no dream disturb 
Your soft and gentle slumbers ! I cannot sing. 
But I'll talk you asleep ; and I beseech you 
Be not offended, thoui^h I glory in 
My being thus employ'd; a happiness 
That stands for more than ample satisfaction 
For all I have, or can endure. — He snores, 
And does not hear me ; would his sense of feehng 

Weie bound up too ! I should 1 am all fire. 

Such heaps of treasure offer'd as a prey 
Would tempt a modest thief; I can no longer 
Forbear — I'll gently touch his lips, and leave 
No print of mine : — [Kisses /lim.] ah ! — I have heard 

of nectar, 
But till now never tasted it ; these rubies 
Are not clouded by my breath : if once again 
I steal from such a full exchequer, trifles 



432 



THE GUaRDIAN. 



[Act. V. 



Will not be miss'd; — [Kisses him again.'] — I am 

entranced : our fancy. 
Some say, in sleep works stronger ; I will prove 
How far my [Fa//s asleep. 

Enter DunAzzo. 

Dur. My bones ache, 
I am exceeding cold too, I must seek out 
A more convenient truckle-bed. Ha! do I dream 1 
No, no, 1 wake. Camillo, Lentulo, 
Donate this, and, as I live, Adorio 
In a liandsome wench's lap! a wlioreson; you are 
The be? t iiccommodated. I will call 
My neplit'xv and his mistress to this pasjeant ; 
The object may periiaps do more upon her, 
Than all ('aldoro's rhetoric. With what 
Security tliey sleep ! sure Mercury 
Hath traveird this way with his charming-rod. 
Nephew! Calista! Madam! 

Enter Caldoiio and Calista. 

Cald. Here, sir ; is 
Your man retuiii'd with horses? 

Dur. No, boy, no ; 
But here are some you thought not of. 

Calis. Adorio ! 

Dur. 'I'he idol that you worshipped. 

Calis. 'J'his Mirtilla! 
I am made a stale. 

Diir. 1 knew 'twould take, 

Calis. False man ! 
But much more treacherous woman ! Mis apparent 
They jointls' did conspire against my weakness, 
And credulous simplicity, and have 
Prevail'd against if. 

Cald. I'll not kill them sleeping; 
But if you please, I'll wake them first, and after 
Offer tiiem as a fatal .sacrifice 
To your just anger. 

IJiir. Vou are a fool ; reserve 
Your bio d for better uses. 

Calis. Aly fond love 
Is chatiged to an extremity of hate ; 
His Very siyht is odious. 

Dur. 1 have thought of 
A preiiy puiiishinent for him and his comrades. 
Then leave him to his harlotry ; if she prove not 
Torture enough, hold me an ass. Their horses 
Are not f.^r oil', I'll cut t!ie girts and bridles. 
Then turn tht-m into the wood ; if they can run. 
Let them fcjllow us as footmen. Wilt thou fight 
For what's tliine own already! 

Calis. In his hat 
He wears a jewel*, which this faithless strumpet. 
As a salary of her lust, deceived me of; 
He shall not keep't to my disgraie, nor will I 
Stir till 1 have it. 

Du>: 1 am not good at nimmingf ; 
And yet that shall not hinder us : by your leave, 
sir ; 



In his fiat 



He wrnrs a jie\\v\,] This is in coiit'otiiiity to tlie ciiftom 
Riiicli llicii prevail. <l i>( weariiiii bii^oclu's (j;ems sit in i;<'l<t 
or silvii ) ill lilt Imi. Our anceslois gave tlii' nmue ofjuwi-l, 
not so iMiii!li to a .'■ingle Miinc, as to a clnster ol' ilieni .>ct in 
order l)> llie I.ipid.iij, ami, in general, lo any little trinket 
or oriiaMieiii ol sj.ild <iiiil piecioiis stones. 

t Dm.t/.. / u»i nut yiind at niinniiiii; ;] i. c. slealini;. Tlic 
wold IS imie Si\oii,anrt means to /«/,«■, lo seize. It is tiinn<l 
in alt our old w: iters; and, indeed, is still in use, as a cant 
term I'oi sle.Jin". 



I 'lis restitution : jiray you all bear witness 
' I do not steal it ; here 'tis. 

[Takes ojf his hat, and removes thejeweL 
Calis. Take it, not 
As a mistress' favour, but a strong assurance 
I am your wife. 
Cald. O heaven ! 
Dur. Pray in the church. 
Let us away. Nephew, a word ; have you not 
Heen billing in the brakes, ha ! and so deserved 
This unexpected favour? 
Cald. You are pleasant 

[Exeujil Durazzn, Catdoro, and Calista, 

Ailor. As thou art a gentleman, kill me not 
basely ; [5'ta)-<s up ; the rest awakt. 

Give me leave to draw my sword. 

Camil. Ha! what's the matter ? 

Lent. He talk'd ofs sword. 

Don. I see no enemy near us. 
That threatens danger. 

Mirt. Sure 'twas but a dream. 

A-^xr. A fearful one. Methought Caldoro'a 
sword 
Was at my throat, Calista frowning b/. 
Commanding him, as he desired her favour, 
To strike my head oflT. 

Camil. ]\lere imagination 
Of a disturbed fancy. 

Mirt. Here's your hat, sir. 

Aiior. But where 's my jewel ? 

Camil. By all likelihood lost 
This troublesome night. 

Don. I saw it when we came 
Unio this place. 

Mirt. I looked upon't myself, 
When you reposed. 

Ailor. What is become of it? 
Restore it, for thou hast it ; do not put mA 
To the trouble to search you. 

Mirt. Search me ! 

Ador. You have been, 
before your lady gave you entertainment, 
A night-walker in the streets. 

Mi't. How, my good lord ! 

Adirr. Traded in picking pockets, when tarn* 
gulls, 
Charmed with your prostituted flatteries. 
Deigned to embrace you. 

Mirt. Love, give place to anger. 
Chaigeme with theft, and prostituted baseness! 
Were you a judge, nay more, the king, thus urged. 
To vour teeth 1 would say, 'tis faUe. 

Ador. This will not do. 

C'«7n(7. /Deliver it in private. 

Mirt. You shall be . 
In public hanged first, and the whole gang of you. ' 
I steal what I presented ! 

Lent. ])o not strive. 

A"nr. 'ihough thou hast swallowed it, I'll rip 
thy entrails. 
But I'll recover it. 
Mirt. Help, help! 

Ador. A new plot, 

Claudio And (tijo Biinditti rush upmi them with 
pistols. 

Claud. Forbear, libiiliiioiis monsters! if you offer 
Ti-e least resistance, 3 on are (lead. If one 
But lay his hand upon his sword, shoot all. 



8CKNE IV.] 



THE GUAKDIAN. 



433 



Ador. Let us fight for what we have, and if you 

can 
Win it, enjoy it. 

Claud. We come not to try 
Your valour, but for yournioney; throw down your 

sword. 
Or I'll begin with you : so ! if you will 
Walk quietlv without bonds, vou may, if not 
We'll force 'you.— [Fear not,'] thou shalt have no 

wrons*, 
But justice against these. [To MirtUla. 

1 Ban. We'll teach you, sir, 

To meddle with wenches in our walks. 

2 Ban. It being 
Against our canons. 

Camil. Whither will you lead us? 
Claud. Vou shall know that hereafter. — Guard 
them sure. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— ^«o(/ier part cf the Forest. 

Enter Alphonso disguised as an old Man, Laval, 
and Captain. 

Alph. Are all the passages stopp'd ? 
Capt. And strongly miinn'd ; 
They must use wings, and fly, if they escape us. 
Lav. But why, great sir, you should expose your 
person 
To such apparent danger, when you may ■' 

Have them brought bound before you, is beyond 
My apprehension. 

Alph. I am better arm'd 
Than vou suppose ; besides, it is confirm'd 
By all that have been robb'd, since Severino 
Commanded these baqjliiti (though it be 
Unusual in Italy), imitating 
The courteous English thieves, for so they call 

them, 
They have not done one murder : I must add too, 
That, from a strange relation I have heard 
Of Severino's justice, in disposing 
The preys brought in, I would be an eye-witness 
Of what 1 take up now but on report : 
And therefore 'tis my pleasure that we should, 
As soon as they encounter us, without 
A show of opposition yield. 

Lav. Your will 
Is not to be disputed. 

Alph. You have placed 
Your ambush so, that, if there be occasion. 
They suddenly may break in? 

Capt. JMy life upon't. 

Alph. We cannot travel far, but we shall meet 
With some of these good fetlows ; and he sure 
You do as I command vou. 

Lav. Without fear, sir. [Exeunt. 



Without my knowledge and consent, as^i.^ted 
By your advice, be married; but your 
Uesiraint, as you deliver it, denying 
A i;rown-up maid the modest conversation 
( )f men, and warrantable pleasures, relish'd 
Ui' too much rigour, which, no doubt, hath driven 

her 
To take some desperate course. 

ni. What then 1 did 
Was in my care thought best. 

Sev. So I conceive it ; 
Hut where was your discretion to forbid 
Access, and Kt approaches, when you knew 
Her suitors noble, either of which 1 would 
Have wish'd my son-in-law 1 Adorio, 
However wild, a young man of yood parts. 
But better fortunes : his coinpetitor, 
Cahloro, for his sweetness ol heiiaviour, 
Staidness. and teuiperance, holding tiie first place 
Among the gallants most observed in iS'upU's; 
His own revenues of a large extent. 
But in the expectation of his uncle 
And guardian's enfradas', by the course 
Of nature to descend on him, a match 
For the best subject's blood, I except none 
Of eminence in Italy. 
I'oL Your wishes, 
Houe'er awhile delay 'd, are not, I hope, 
Impossibilities. 

Sev. Thougii it prove so, * • 

Yet 'tis not good to give a check to fortune 
When she comes smiling to us. Hark! this cornet 

[Cornet ivithin. 

Assures us of a prize ; there sit in state, 
'Tis thy first tribute. 

lot. Would we might enjoy • 
Our own as subjects ! 

Sell. What's got bv the sword. 
Is better than inheritance : all those kingdoms 
Of Alexander were by force extortedf. 
Though gilded o'er with glorious styles of con- 
quest : 
His victories but royal robberies. 
And his true definition a thief, 
When circled with huge navies, to the terror 
Of such as plough'd the ocean, as the pirate. 
Who, from a narrow creek, puts (iff for prey 
In a small pinnace: — [Cornet ii;ii/ii;ij — fiom a se- 
cond place 
New spoil brought in! — [Cornet uithin.] from a 

third party ! brave ! 
This shall be regisler'd a day of triumph 
Design'd by fate to honour thee. 

Enter Claudio. 

Welcome, Claudio ! 
Good booty, ha? 



SCENE lY.— Another part of the Foreit. 

Enter Severing and Iolante. 
Sev, 'Tis true ; I did command Calista should not. 



• JVe'll force you. — \Fear not] thou shalt have vn 
wrong,] 1 liave adiltd ilie words in brackets to supply afoul 
kitli wai probably lost at tbe press. 



* And gtiardian's entradas,] So the old copy. Coxeter 
fnot understanding the word, perlia, s,/ di^c.l^dcd it for 
e»/a/e», which ulttrly destroys Ihe iiielre. Mr. M. Mason 
implicitly relies on his guid.ince, sequiiurquc patrem, as 
usual. Mntradas are rents, revenues. 

+ Of Alexander were by force exfortei,] As this line 
stands in Ihe old copy, it is evidently cmiupt: 

Subdued by Alexander, were by force extorted. 
This does not re«d to nie like Massinger's: llie >ni,dl change 
which I have hazarded restores it. at leas! Kiiin-tre. The remark 
^vhirh tV.llows is taken from history, and is said to have 
been aclually marie to this prince, by a pirate whom h« 
was about to execute. 



434 



THE GUARDIAN. 



Enter, a' different sides, rarioiis parlies of the Banditti ; 
one xiilh Adorio, Lkntulo, Donato, Camillo, 
RliUTii.LA ; another with Di'iiAZzo, Caldoro, Ca- 
LiSTA ; and the rest with Ai.phonso, Laval, and 
Caj)tiiin. 

Cldvd. Their outsides promise so ; 
But vet tliey have not made discovery 
Of wliat they stand possest of. 

Sev, Welcome all ; 
Good hoys; j-ou have done bravely, if no blood 
lie shed in the service. 

1 Bun. On our lives, no dro]), sir, 

Sec. ' Tis to my wish. 

IcL My lord ! 

.S>i;. No more; I know tliem. 

Itl. Mv daughter, and her woman too! 

Sev. Conceal 
Your joys. 

Dnr. Knllen in the devil's mouth ! 

Calls. My father, 
And motlier ! to what fate am I reserved? 

Culd. Continue mask'd ; or grant that you be 
known, 
From whom can you expect a gentle sentence, 
If you despair a lather's? 

Ador. 1 perceive now 
Wh ch way 1 lost my jewel. 

Mirt. I rejoice 
I'm clear'd from theft ; you have done me wrong 

hut I, 
Unask'd, forgive you. 

Diir. 'Tis some comfort yet, 
The rivals, men and women, friends and foes, are 
Together in one toil. 

Sev. You all look pale. 
And by your private whisperings and soft murmurs 
Express a general fear : pray you shake it oflf ; 
For understand you are not fallen into 
'Che hands of a IJusiris or a Cacus, 
Deliglited more in blood than sp al, but given up 
To the power .jf an unfortunate gentleman 
Not born to these low courses, howsoever 
My fate, and just displeasure of the king, 
Design'd me to it : you need not to doubt 
A sad captivity here, and much less fear 
For profit to be sold for slaves, then sbipp'd 
Into another country : in a word, 
You know the proscribed Severino, he, 
Not unacquainted, but familiar with 
The most of you. — Want in myself I know not. 
But for the pay of these, my ^(luires, who eat 
Their bread with danger purtbiis'd, and must be 
With others' fleeces clothed, or live exposed 
'lb ihe summer's scorching heat and winter's cold ; 
1 o these, before you be compell'd (a word 
1 speak with much unwillingness), deliver 
Such coin as you are furnish'd with, 

Dur. A fine method ! 
This is neither begging, borrowing, nor robbery, 
Yet it bath a twang of all of them : but one word, 
sir. 
Sev. Your pleasure. 

Dur. When we have thrown down our muck, 
What follows? 

Sev. Liherty, with a safe convoy, 
To any place you choose. 

Dur. By this hand you are 
A fair fraternity ; for once I'll be 
The first example to relieve your convent. 



There's a thousand crowns, my vintage, harvest 

profits, 
Arising from my herds, bound in one bag ; 
Share it among you. 

Sev. Vou are still the jovial 
And good Dtirazzo. 

Dur. Jo the offering ; nav, 
No hanging an a — , this is their wedding-d«y : 
What vou must do spite of your hearts, do ireelf 
For your own sakes. 

Camil. '{'here's mine. 

Lent. Mine. 

Don. All that I have. 

Cald. I his to pre.-erve my jewel. 

Ador. W'hii'h 1 challenge: 
Let me liave justice, for mv coin I care not. 

Lav. 1 will not weep for mine. 

Capt. Would it were more. 

[Tlieii all throw down their purtet, 

Sev. Nay, you are privileged ; but why, old father. 
Art thou so slow? thou hast one foot in the grave, 
And, if desire of gold do not increase 
With thy ex]iiring lease of life, thou should'st 
Be forwardest. 

Ali)h. In what concerns myself, 
I do acknowledge it ; and 1 should lie, 
A vice I have ilelested from my youth. 
If I denied my present store, since what 
I have about me now weighs down in value. 
Almost a hundred fold, whatever these 
Have laid before you : see ! I do groan under 

[Throits down three bags. 
The burthen of my treasure ; nay, 'tis gold j 
And if your hunger of it be not sated 
W ith what already I have shown unto you. 
Here's that shall glut it. In this casket are 
Inestimable jewels, diamonds 
Of such a piercing lustre as struck blind 
The amazed lapidary, while be labour'd 

[Opens the caskeL 
T'o honour his own art in setting them : 
Some orient pearls too, which the Queen of Spain 
IVIight wear as ear-rings, in remembrance of 
The day that she was crown'd. 

Sev. 'i he spoils, I think. 
Of both the Indies! 

Dur. 'J he great sultan's poor. 
If parallel'd with this Croesus. 

Sev. Why dost thou weep? 

Alph. Fiom a most fit consideration of 
I\Iy poverty ; this, though restored, will not 
Serve my occasions. 

Sev. Impossible ! 

Dw\ Maybe be would buy his passport up to 
heaven. 
And then this is too little, though in the journey 
It were a good viaticum. 

Alph, I would make it 
A means to help me thither : not to wrong you 
With tediou's expectation, I'll discover 
What mv wants are, and yield my reasons for 

them : 
I have two sons, twins, the true images 
Of what I was at their years ; never father 
Had fairer or more promising hopes in bis 
Posterity : but, alas 1 these sons, ambitious 
Of glittering honour, and an after-name, 
Achieved by glorious, and yet pious actions 
( For such were their intentions), put to sea . 
J hey had a well-rigg'd bottom, fully manned. 



Scene IV.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



435 



An old experienced master, lusty sailors, 
Stout landsmen, and what's somethinsr more 



tban 



Thev did agree, had one design, and that was 
In charitv to redeem the Chi-istian slaves 
Chained in the Turkish servitude. 
Sev. A brave aim ! 

Dur. A most heroic enterprise ; I languish 
To hear how they succeeded. 

Alph. Prosperously, 
At first, and to their wishes : divers gallies 
They boarded, and some strong forts near the 

shore 
They suddenly surprised ; a thousand captives, 
Redeemed from the oar, paid their glad vows and 

prayers 
For their deliverance : their ends acquired. 
And making homeward in triumphant manner, 
For sure the cause deserved it — 

Dur. Pray you end here ; 
The best, I fear, is told, and that which follows 
Must conclude ill. 

Alph. Your fears are true, and yet 
I must with grief relate it. Prodigal fame, 
Ip every place, with her loud trimi[), proclaiming 
The greatness of the action, the piiates 
Of Tunis and Algiers laid wait for them 
At their return : to tell you what resistance 
They made, and how my poor sons fought, would 

but 
Increase my sorrow, and, pt-rhaps, grieve you 
To hear it passionately described unto you. 
In brief, they were taken, and for the great loss 
The enemy did sustain, their victory 
Being with much blood bought, they do endure 
The heaviest captivity wretched men 
Did ever suffer. O my sons ! my sons ! 
To me forever lost ! lost, lost fur ever ! 

Sev. Will not these heaps of gold, added to 
thine, — 

Suffice for ransom 1 

Alph. For my sons it would ; 
But they refuse their liberty if all 
That were engaged with them, have not their 

irons 
With theirs struck oflF, and set at liberty with 

them ; 
Which these heaps cannot purchase., 

Sev. Ha ! the toughness 
Of my heart melts. Be comforted, old father ; 
I have some hidden treasure, and if all 
I and my squires these three years have laid tip, 
Can make the sum up, freely take't. 

Dur. I'll sell 
Myself to my shirt, lands, moveables, and thou 
Shalt part with thine too, nephew, rather than 
Such brave men shalllive slaves. 

2 Han. We will not yield to't. 

3 Bun. Nor lose our parts. 
Sev. How's this! 

•2 Ban. You are fitter far 
To be a churchman, than to have command 
Over good fellows*. 

Sell. Thus lever use [Strihes them doun. 

Such saucy rascals ; second me, Claudio. — 
Rebeilious ! do you grumble ? I'll not leave 
One lOi^ue of them alive. 



* Occr i;oii(l fellows.] A cant nanip by which higliwayirien 
«nd thieves have beeu long pleased to dcaoniioute ihein- 



Alph. Hold; — give the sign. [Discovers himfelf 
All. The king ! •'' 

Sev Then 1 am lost. 
Claud, r lie woods are full 
Of armed men. 

Alph. No hope of your escape 
Can flatter you. 

Sev. Mercy, dread sir! IKneeli. 

Alph. Thy carriage 
In this unlawful course appears so noble, 
Especially in this last trial, which 
I put upon you, that 1 wish the mercy 
You kneel in vain (or might fall gently on you : 
But when the holy oil was poured upon 
My head, and I anointed king, I swore 
Never tn ptirdon murder. I could wink at 
Your robberies, though our laws call them death, 
But to dispense with Monteclaro's blood 
Would ill become a king ; in him I lost 
A worthy subject, and must take from you 
A strict account oft. 'Tis in vain to move; 
My doom's irrevocable. 

Lav, Not, dread sir, 

If Monteclaro live. , 

Alph. If! good Laval. 

Lav. He lives in him, sir, that you ihou^ht 
Laval. [Discovers himself 

Three years have not so altered me but you mar 
Remember Monteclaro. 
Dur. How ! 
I'dl. My brother ! 
Calls. Uncle ! 

Mont. Give me leave ; I was 
Left dead in the field, but by the duke Moi- . 

pensier. 
Now General at Milan, taken up. 
And with much care recovered. 

Alph. Why lived you 
So long concealed? 

Mont. Confounded with the wrong 
I did my brother, in provoking him 
To fight, I spent the time in France that I 
Was absent iiom the court, making my exile 
The punishment imposed upon myself 
For mv offence. 

Ibl. Now, sir, I dare confess all; 
This was the guest invited to the banquet 
That drew on your suspicion. 

Sev. Your intent. 
Though it was ill in you, I do forgive ; 
The rest I'll hear at leisure. Sir, your sentence. 

Alph. It is a general pardon unto all, 
Upon my hopes, in your fair lives hereafter, 
You will deserve it. 

Sev. Claud, and the rest. Long live great Al- 
ph on so ! 
Dur. Your mercy shown in this, now, if you 
please, 
Decide these lovers' difference. 

Alph. That is easy ; 
I'll put it to the women's choice, the men 
Consenting to it. 



selves ; and wtiirh has been given them, in courtesy, by 
others. 'I'hiis Heywood 

Kiiiij. If thon be a ynod fellow, let me borrow a word. 
llohba. I .im no good fellow, and I pray heaven thou be'st 

not one. 
Kinij. Why? dost thou not love •rood fellows? 
Ilubbs. No 'lis a b>e-.vord: yoodfelloirs be thieves 

Edivard IV.Pari I. 



4,5c 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[Act V 



Calls. Here I fix, tlien, never 
To be removed. 

Calil. ' lis mv nil ultra, sir. 

Mitt. O that' I liiid I lie liappiness to say 
So much to you ! 1 dare maiiuain my love 
ts equal to my I'dy's. 
4(lnr. But my mind 
A pitcli above vours : marry with a servant 
Of no (iesient or fortune ! 

Sev. Vou are deceived . 
Howe'er slie Ins been train'd up as a servant. 
She is the daughter of a noble optain. 
Who, ill his voyage to the Persian gulf, 

erish'd bv shipwn^ck ; one 1 dearly loved. 
He to mv care entrusted her, having taken 
My word, if he return 'd not like liimself, 
I never sliould tliscover what she was ; 
But it being lor her good, 1 will dispense with't. 
"So much, sir, for lier blood ; now for her portion : 
So dear 1 hold llie memory of my friend, 
It shall rank with my daughter's. 

Adiir. I his made good, 
[ will not be jierverse. 

Dtir. With a kiss comfirm it. 

Ador. 1 sign all concord here; but must to you, 
sir, 
For reparation of my wounded honour, 
Tl; justice of the king consenting to it, 
Denounce a lawful war. 

Alph, This in our presence ! 

Ador. The cause, dread sir, commands it ; though 
your edicts 
Call private combats, murders ; rather than 
Sit down with a disgrace, arising from 
A blow, the bonds of my obedience shook oflp, 
I'll right myself. ^ 

Cald. 1 (io confess the wrong, 
Forgetting the occasion, and desire 
Remission from you, and upon such terms 
As by his sacred majesty shall be judged 
Equal 01! both parts. 

Ador. 1 desire no more. 

Alph. All then are jileased ; it is the glory of 
A king to make and keep his subjects happy : 
For us, we do approve the Roman maxim. 
To save one citizen is a greater prize 
Tnan to have kill'd in war ten enemies. \_Exeunt. 

Song, between Juno and Hymen. 
Juno to the Biude. 

Enter a muid ; but made a bride, 

Be hold, iiiid Jreelii taste 
The marviaf^e banquet, ne'er denied 

To such us sit down chaste. 
Though lie unliws.; thq virgin zone. 

Presumed uguiust thu will. 
Those joiis reseived to him alone, 

Tlicu art a vi gill still. ■ 

Hymen to the BniDEcnooM. 

Hail, bridegroom, hail', thy choice tlius made, 

As thou wnulilst have her true. 
Thou must give o'er tin/ wauton trade. 

And bid loose Jires adieu. 
That hu.'.baiid uho would liave his wife 

To him continue chaste. 
In her embraces Sjiends liis life. 

And makes abroad uo ivaste. 



Hymen and Juno. 

Spfrt then like lurtli-s. and bring forth 

Such jdrdges </s moy be 
Assurance of ihejallier's uorlh, 

Aud mother's purity*. ' 
Juno doth /)/«s the nuptial bed ; 

Thus Hiimen's tordies burn. 
Live long, aud may, when both are dead. 

Your ashes Jill one urn '. 

Song, Entertainment of the Forest's Queen. 

Welcome, thrice welcome <i' this shady green. 
Our long-wish'd Cynthia, the JorB't's queen. 
The tre's begin to bud, the glad birds sing 
In tcinter, changed bi/ her into the spring. 
We know no night, 
' Perpetual light 

Dawns from your eye. 
Yon being near. 
We cannot fear. 

Though Denth stood by. 
From you our suoi'ds take edge, our hearts grow hold; 
From yon in fee their lives your liegemen hold. 
These g'oces your kingdom, aud our law your wiU, 
Smile, aud we spare ; but if yoajruwn, we kill. 
Bless then the hour 
That gives the power 
In which uou may. 
At bed and board. 
Embrace your lord 
Both night and day. 
Welcome, thrice welcome to this shadj/ green, 
Our long-wish'd Cyuthia, the forest's queen! 

EPILOGUE. 

I AM left to enquire, then to relate • 

To the still-doubtful author, at what rate 
His merchandise are valued. If they prove 
Staple commodities, in your grace and love, 
To this last birth of his Rlinerva, he 
Vows (and we do believe him) seriously. 
Sloth cast off, and all pleasures else declined. 
He'll search with his best care, until he find 
New ways, and make good in some labour'd song i 
Though he grow old, Apollo still is young. 
Cherish his good intentions, and declare 
By any signs of favour, that you are 
Well pleased, and with a general consent ; 
And he desires no more enoouragementf. 



• Assiirance of ike father's worth. 
And mother's purity.] Meaning, like their parents: the 
thouglit is from Ciitullus: 

Sit sua siniilis pafri 
Manila, et facile inscAia 
Noscilelur ab omnibus, 
F.t pudicitiam sua; 
Matris indicet are. 
There is little lo be said for this song, (winch is to be re 
fcrred to Act IV. so. ii.) or for thai iniintdiately fullowini; it: 
they are, however, among the best sc.ittered through the 
pla>s of M-issinger, who, as Mr. M. Mason justly observed, 
is a wretched ballad-maker. 

t It is not improbable that, after a temporary suspension 
of his unsuccessful labours for the stage, Massingcr might 
hope to Secure himself ag.iinst future di^appoiiilinent by 
writing for the taste of the public rather tlian his own. 
Whatever be the cause, this comedy is (li^liiigiiislied by a few 
new fcatines, which show themselves someiimif in an excess 
of his usual manner, and somelimis in a (Up irture from it. 
An instance or two of each will be siiliiciuiit. In general, 
when he determines to introduce an) change not yt-t ma 
tured by circumstano s, be endeavours to reconcile us tkrougjb 



Scene IV.] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



4sr 



an opinion or wish (lropp<;d by one of llie spoakcrs in a 
preceding scene. Tliis niiiln.d i* pint'iiscly in(liils;cd in llie 
present Hlav ; and lliese brivf ^iiiticipali.in? iif unexpected 
incidents seem lo be reganlrd by liiin as BiiHicient apologies 
for the extraordinary precipitation of the business of the 
Mage. 

Again, in hi* other Plays, he is often irre^nlar, and some- 
limes involved: the present piece is conceived with unusual 
wildneBS of plot, and intricacy of man igement. One event 
thrusts out another with lillle interniisjion or probability ; 
and the change of situations is so rapid an'l strange, that the 
reader is in danger of mistal.ing the object to which thej 
tend. And lure occurs a dtpariure from his usual manner. 
By pushiuij tlie-e -urprising incidents loo far, he has strait- 
ened himself i" the development of his plot. The conse- 
quence is, tliat the conclusion of the piece is brief and forced, 
and presents little else than a sudden and violent solution of 
difficulties too luxuiiantly created. I wish it were not ne- 
cessary tii mention a novelty of another kind. Too innch 
laxity is induls;ed in his other plays: the peculiarity I ere is, 
that thou^h it abounds, and forms a c<in>iderable part of ll;e 
•tory itself, it is not punished at the concliisiim with that just- 
ice for which Massiugcr is generally to be commeuded, aud 1 

31 



with that remembrance of the claims of virtue for which he 
elsewhere assumes a pioper creilii. 

These improprielies may, perhaps, be attributed to the 
circumstances under whicli the Pl.ty was wriilen. Yet it 
contains sc.itlereil beauties of no oidinary value. Tiie style 
of it, in<leed, is almost every where Dowii g ami liarmonious, 
and there ^re occasional scenes which will charm the imagi- 
nation and toucti the heart. Duraz/.M's description of his 
rural sport> is highly beautiful and enlivening, and has been 
commended by ottiers. I do not know tli4t proper praise 
has been besiowed on anolher scene, at whiih the reader cf 
sensibility will certainly stop with deliiiht. There is a moral 
melancholy in Severino's appearance. Act II. sc. iv., which 
is extremely lonehinp;. In 7'he Pictiirf, Massinger has made 
Mathias e.\(iress some just sentiments agai si loo great a 
fondness for perish ible lite. Here we see a weariness of ex- 
istence, and a contempt of danger, heighlenrd by the pecu- 
li.ir situation of Sevrrino, yet niixeil with tenderness and 
compunction. lx\ other pans of the Play, we tin! maxims 
justly conceiverl and beauiifully expnsseil. They may b« 
easily sfpi;ra:e<! from the incidents wlich give rise to them, 
and be advantageo'jsly reinembcrod for our prrdeniial or 
moral guidricce. Da Ibw. nb. 



A VERY WOMAN. 



A Very Woman.] This Tragi-Comecly, as it is called, was licensed for ibe stage June 6th, iSS-i, 
From the piologue it appears to be a revision of a former play, wliicli had been well received, iiiid which 
ihe author modestly insinuates that he was induced to review by the command of his patron. If tiiis patron 
R-as, as it has been supposed, the Earl of Pejiibroke, we are indebted to him for one of the most delightful 
compositions in the Enulish languiige. 

We learn from the office-book of Sir Henry Herbert, that a play of Massinger's called The Spanish Virerptf, 
was acted in 1624: this was not improbably the piece alluded to in the prologue. But this is not all. In 
the MS. Rp<;ister of l.,ord Stiuihope of Harrington, the play of Cardenes, or Cardenin, is said to have been 
performed at court, in 1613. ftlr. Malone, who furnishes me with this notice, conjectures that this might 
have been the first sketch of what Massinger improved and brought out in IC^i, anil finally comjileted as 
we now have it. Change of name is no argument against this conclusion; for, besides that nothing was 
more conimnn upon ihe revival of jilavs, it should be recollected, that those who spoke of them, seldom 
concerned theihselves with the author's titles, but gave thetn such names as pleased themselves, and which 
were gennrallv assumed from one or other of the more prominent characters. 

However this raav be, the ))resent play was most favourably received, and often acted, the old title-page 
says, " at t.je private house in lilaiktrims, by his late IMajesty's servants, with great applause." Its popu- 
larity seerns to have tempted the author's good friend. Sir Aston Cockaine, to venture on an imitation of it, 
which he has executed, not very happily, in his comedy of The Obslinaie Lady. 



PROLOGUE. 

To sufh, and some there are, no question, here, 
Who.hiippy ill their memories, do bear 
'I'liis siiliject, luim f-ince acted, and can say, 
J'ruly, we have seen something like this play, 
Our author, with becoming (midesty 
(For in this kind he ne'er was bold), by me. 
In his defence thus ansvsers, By command 
He un<lerlook this task, nor could it stand 
With his low fortune to rtiuse to do 



What by his patron he was call'd unto : 

For whose dehght and yours, we hope, with care 

He hath review'd it ; and with him we dare 

]\Iaintain to any man, that did allow 

'Twas good before, it is much bettered now : 

Nor is it, sure, against the proclamation 

To raise new jiiles upon aa old foundation*. 

So much to them deliver'd ; to the rest, 

To whom each scene is fresh, he doth protest, 

Should his muse fail now a fair flight to make. 

He cannot fancy what will please or take. • 



Viceroy of Sicily. 

Don PnHio his «»h. 

Duke oj ;M ESS IN A. 

Don iMAiniNo Cardenes, his son. 

Don John Aniomo, /x'jnceny Tarent. 

Ciipiaiii nj the aialLi; ij Palekmo. 

Paulo, u ]ih-^siciiiii. 

Cuci'LO, ihe Vicerou's steward. 

Two Surgeons. 

Apoiherury. 

Citizens. 

Slave-merchant. 

Servant. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 

Page. 

An English Slavt, 

Stares. 

Moors. 

Pirates. • 

Sailors. 

Almiha, the Viceroy's daughter. 

Leonora, dukeoj Messina's niece. 

BoRACHiA, uije to Cuculo, governess of Leonora 

and Alinira. 
Tiro Waiting Women. 

A good and evil Genius, Servants, Guwd, Attend* 
ants, 6ic. 
SCENE, Palermo. 



• Tins seems lo allutie to King James's Proclamation, to forbid the incrtate of buiklinK of London.— 1; 



Scene I.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



439 



ACT I, 



SCENE I. — A Boom in the Viceroy's Palace. 



Enter l^EDno and Leonora. 

Pedro. JIvwortliiest mistress! this clay cannot end 
]iut piospeious to Pedro, that begins 
With this so wish'd encouiiier. 

Leon, Only, servant, 
To give you ihiinks in your own courtly language 
W oukl iiraue me more ceremonious 
'I'iian henrtily attecied ; iind you are 
'Jvvo well assuivd, or 1 am niiserable, 
Our ei)Ual loves liave kept one rank too long 
To stand at distance now. 

Pedro. You niaiie me happy 
In tins so wi-.e repioof, which I receive 
As a chaste favour ti'oin ycu, and will ever 
Hold such a strong command o'er my desires, 
That though my blood turn rebel lo my reason, 
I never shall ])resume to seek aught from you, 
But what (your lionour safe) you well may grant me, 
And virtue sign the warrant. 

Leon. Your love to me 
So Inuited, will stdl jireserve your mistress 
Worthy her servant, and in your restraint 
Of loose affections, hind me faster to you ; 
But there will be a lime when we may welcome 
Those wish'd for pleasures, as heaven's greatest 

blessings, 
When that the viceroy, your most noble father. 
And the duke my uncle, and to that, my guardian, 
Shall by tlieir free consent, conhrm them lawful, 

Pedrfi. ^'ou ever shall direct, and ] obey you : 
Is my sister stirring yet ? 

Leon. Long since. 

Pedro, Some business 
With her, join'd to my service to yourself. 
Hath brought me hither ; pray you vouchsafe the 

favour 
To acquaint her ■with so much. 

Leon, 1 am prevented. 

Enter Almira and two Waiting Women, 

Aim. Do the rest here, my cabinet is too hot ; 
This room is cooler. Brother ! 

Pedro. 'Morrow sister ; 
Do 1 not come unseasonably? 

Aim, Why, good brother ? 

Pedro. Because you are not yet fully made up. 
Nor fit for visitation. There are ladies, 
And great ones, that will hardly grant access, 
On any terms, to their own fathers, as 
They are themselves, nor willingly be seen 
Before they have ask'd counsel of their doctor 
How the ceruse will appear, newly laid on. 
When thej' ask blessing. 

Aim. Such, indeed, there are 
That would be still young, in despite of time; 
That ill .the wrinkled winter of their age 
Would force a seeming April of Iresh beauty, 
As if it werei within the power of art 
I'o frame a second nature : but for me. 
And for your mistress I dare say as much. 
The ^'aces, and the tenth you see, we slept with. 



Pedro. Which is not frequent, sister, with some 
ladies. 

A,,m. You spy no sign of any night-mask here 
(Tie on my carcanet*), nor does your nostril 
lake in the scent of strong perfumes, to stifle 
The sourness of our breaths as we are tasting: 
You're in a lady's chamber, gentle biotner, 
And not in your apotlvecary s shop. 
We use the women, vou perceive, that serve us, 
Like servants, not like such as. do create us : — - 
Faiih search our pockets, aud, if you find there 
Comfits of ambergris to help our kisses. 
Conclude us faulty. 

Pedro. Y'ou are pleasant, sister, 
And I am glad to find you so disposed; 
You will the better hear me. 

Aim. What you please, sir. 

Pedro. I am entreated by the prince of Tareht 
Don John Antonio — 

Aim. Would you would choose 
Some other subject. 

Pedro. I'tay you, give me leave. 
For his desires are fit lor you lo lifar, 
As for me to prefer. This prince of Tar'■,n^. 
(Let it not wrong him thai t call him fneiiJ) 
Finding your choice of don Carienos liked o( 
By both your fathers and iiiii hopes cut ofi". 
Resolves toi eave Palevm>. 

Aim. He does weli ; 
That I hear gladly. 

Pedro. How this prince came hither. 
How bravely furnished, how attended on. 
How he hath borne himself here, with what cha-g* 
He hath continued , his magnificence 
In costly bancjuets, curious masks, rare presents, 
And of all sorts, you cannot but remember. 

Aim. (jive me my gloves. 

Pedro. Now, for reward of all 
His cost, his travel, and his duteous service, 
He does entreat that ^ou will please he may- 
Take his leave of you, and receive the favour 
Of kissing of your hands. 

Aim, You aie his friend. 
And shall discharge the part of one to tell him 
That he may sj)are the trouble ; 1 desire not 
To see or hear moie of him. 

Pedro. Yet grant this. 
Which a mere stranger, in the w-ay of courtshipf. 
Might challenge from you. 

Aim. And obtain it sooner. 

Pedro. One reason for this would do well. 

Aim, My will 
Shall now stand for a thousand. Shall I lose 



• Tie on jny caicanct,] Carcanet (diniin. of carcan, a 
clnin) is a iiecULice, ia which sense it occuis in must uf our 
old « riteis : , , , . 

" I'll cl.i'p lluit necA, wliere should beset 

A liih diid orient carcanet : 

But swains are po'.r, /.dinit ol" llun, _^ 
More iMlural chains, the arms ot m'". 

Kandolitli's Poems. 

+ In the way of comt^hip,] i- e. as has been 

; more than once observed, in the way ol good breeding, ol 
I civility. &C 



440 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act I. 



The privilege of my sex, which is my will, 
'I'o yielil a reason hke a man? or you, 
Deny your sister that which all true women 
Claim as their first prerogative, which n ture 
Gave to them for a law, and should 1 break it, 
1 were no more a woman 1 

Peilro. Sure, a good one 
You cannot be, if you put off that virtue 
Wliich best adorns a good one, courtesy 
And aftiiblt- behaviour. Do not flatter 
Yourself with liie opinion that your birth, 
Your beiiuty, or whatever false ground else 
You raise your pride upon, will stand against 
The censure of just men. 

Aim. Why, let it fall then ; 
I still shall be unmoved. 

Leon. And, piay vou, be you so. 

Aim. VVliat jewel's that? 

1 Worn. '1 hat which the prince of Tarent 

Aim. Left here, and vou received without my 
knowledge : 
I have use oft now. Does the page wait without, 
My lord Cardeiies sent to inijuire my health ! 

1 Wom. Yei, m^dam. 

Aim. Give it lum, and with it pray him 
To return my service to his lord, and mine. 

Pedro. VV 111 you so undervalue one that has 
So truly loved you, to bestow the pledge 
Of his aftectioii, l^iiig a prince, upon 
The seivant of his rival 1 

Leon. "J'ls not well. 
Faith, wear it, lady : send gold to the boy, 
'Twill please him better. 

Aim. Do as 1 command you. 
I will keep nothing that may put me in mind 
Don John Antonio ever loved, or was; 
Being wholly now Cardenes'. 

Pedro. In another 
Tliis v^ere mere barbarism, sister ; and in you 
(For I'll not sooth you), at tlie best 'tis rudeness. 

Aim Rudeness ! 

Pedro. \ es, rudeness; and what's worse, the want 
Of tivil mauuers ; nav, ingratitude 
Untoihe many and so fair deservings 
Of don Antonio. Does tliis express 
Your breeding in the court, or that you call 
'J'he viceroy fdiher! A poor peasant's daughter, 
That ne'er had lonversation but with beasts, 
Or men bred like them, would not so far shame 
Her education. 

Aim. Pray you, leave my cliamber; 
I know you lor a brother, not a tutor. 

Leon. You are too violent, madam. 

Aim. Were my father 
Here to command me (as you take upon you 
Almost to play his part;, 1 would refuse it. 
Where 1 love, 1 pioiess it; where 1 hate, 
In every circumstance I dare pioclaim it : 
Of all that wear the shapes of men, 1 loath 
That prince you plead for; no antipathy 
Between things most aveise in nature, holds 
A stronger enmity than his with n,ine; 
With which rest satisfied -—if not, youranoer 
May wrong yourself, not me. 

Leon, My lord (Cardenes ! 

Pedro. Go; m soft terms if you persist thus, you 
W^ill be one 

Enter Cardenes. 
Aim. What one ? pray you, out with it. 



Pedro. Why, one that 1 shall wish a stranger lo 
me. 
That I might curse you : but 

Car. Whence grows this heat? 

Pedro. Be yet advised, and entertain him fairly, 
For 1 will send liim to you, or no more 
Know me a brother. 

Aim. As you please. 

Pedro. Good morrow. [Exit. 

Car. Good morrow, and part thus ! you seeia 
moved too : 
What desperate fool durst raise a tempest here. 
To sink himself 2 

Aim. Good sir, have patience ; 
The cause, though 1 confess 1 am not pleased. 
No way deserves your anger. 

Cur. Not mine, madam ! 
As if the least offencr could jioint at vou, 
And 1 not feel it: as you have vouclisaft-d me 
'1 he jiromisfe of your heart, conceal it not, 
Whomsoever it concerns. 

Aim. Jt is not worili 
So serious an enquiry : my kind brother 
Had a desire to leain me some new courtahip, 
Which 1 distasted ; that was all. 

Car. Your brother ! 
In being yours, with more security 
He might provoke you ; yet, if he hath past 
A brother's bounds 

Leon. \\ hat then, niy lord? 

Car. Believe it, 
I'll call him to account for't. 

Leon, 'i'ell him so. 

Aim. No more. 

Leon. Yes, thus much ; tlioiigh my modesty 
Be cali'd in question for it, in his absence 
1 will defend him : he hath s^iid nor done 
But what Don Pedro well might say or do; 
Mark me, Don Pedru I in which undi-r=.taiid 
As worthy, and as well as can be hijied lor 
Of those that love him be^t — from Don Cardi nes. 

Car. This to me, cousin 1 

Aim. 'iou forget yourself. 

Leon. No, nor the cauae in which you did so, lady 
Which is so just that it needs no concealing 
On Pedro's jiart. 

Aim. What mean you? 

Leon. 1 dare speak it. 
If > on dare hear it, sir : he did persuade 
Almira, your Alinira, to vouchsafe 
Some little conference with the 1 rince of Tarent, 
Before he left the court ; and, that the world 
Might take some notice, though he prosper'd not 
In his so loved design, he was not .-corn'd. 
He did desire the kis-^ing of lier hand. 
And then to leave her : — this was much ! 

Cur. 'Twas more 
Than should have bPen urged by. him ; well denied 
On your part, m;idain, and 1 thank vou for't. 
Antonio had his answer, 1 your grant ; 
And why }our brother should pre])are for him 
.'^n alter-interview, or private favour, 
1 can find little reason. 

Leon. None at all 
Why you should be displeased with't. 

Cur. His resjiect 
To me, as things now are, should have weigh 'd 

down 
His former friendship: 'twas done indiscreetly, 
1 would be loath to say, maliciously, 



Scene I.] 



A VERY WO MAM. 



441 



To build up the demolish'd liopes of him 
That was my rival. Wiiat had he to do, 
If he view nol my i)a|)piness in your favour 
With wounded eyes, to take upon himself 
An office so distasteful ? 

Leon. You may ask 
As well, what any gentleman has to do 
With civil courtesy. 

Aim. Or you, with that 
Which at no part concerns you. Goodmy lord. 
Rest satistied, that 1 sa.v him not, nor will ; 
And that nor father, broii)er, nor the world 
Can work me unto any thing but what 
You give allowance to — in which assurance, 
With this, 1 leave you, 

Leon. Nay, take me along ; 
You are not angry too 1 

Aim. Presume on that. 

["Exit, followed by Leonora. 

Car. Am I assured of her, and shall again 
Be tortured with suspicion to lose her, 
Before 1 have enjoyed her ! ilie next sun 
Shall see her mine; why should I doubt, then] yet. 
To doubt is safer than to be secure*. 
But one short day ! Great empires in less time 
Have suffer'd change: she's constant — but a 

woman ; 
And what a lover's vows, persuasions, tears, 
May, in a minute, work upon such frailty. 
There are too many and to sad examples. 
The prince of Tarent gone, all were in safety ; 
Or not admitied to sohcit her, 
My fears would quit me : 'tis my fault, if I 
Give way to that ; and let him ne'er desire 
To own what's hard [to winJ.J that daresnot guard 

it. 

Who waits there 1 

Enter Servants and Page. 
Serv. Would your lordship aught] 
Car. 'Tis well 
You are so near. 

Enter Antonio and a Servant. 

Ant. Take care all things be ready 
For my remove. 

Serv. 'i'hey are. 

Car, We meet like friends, 
No more like rivals now; my emulation 
Puts on tie shape of love and service to you. 

Ant. U is return 'd. 

Cur. Twas rumour'd in the court 
You were to leave the city, and that wan me 
To find you out. Your excellence may wonder 
That 1, that never saw you till this hour 
But that 1 wish'd you dfad, so willingly 
Should come to wait upon you to the ports. 
And there, with hope you never will look back. 
Take my last farewell ot you. 

Ant. JNever look back! 

Car. I said so ; neither is it fit you should ; 
And may I prevail with you as a friend, 



• To doubt is safer than to be secure, &c.] Tliis speech 
is so arrHiigtd, and so poiutid by Mr. M. Mason, who has 
improved II pull the eiruis of Coxtter, as lo be little better 
than nonseime. 

t 'J'o own what's hard [lo win,] that dares not guard it.] 
A foot is lust here, wliich 1 hive endeavoured lo supply, by 
the addition 111" (lie words in brackuls. The defect was noticed 
by Mr. M. Mason, who proposed to coniplele the line by 
reading, to keep. 



lExit. 



You never shall, nor, while you live, hereafter 
Think of the viceroy's court, or of Pnlermo, 
But as a grave, in which the prince of Tarent 
Buried his honour. 

Ant. You speak in a language 
I do not understand. 

Car. No ! I'll be plainer. 
What madman, that came hither with that pomp 
Don John Antonio did, that exact courtier 
Don John Antonio, with whose brave fame only. 
Great princesses have fall'n in love, and died ; 
I'liat came with such assurance as young Paris 
Did to fetch Helen, being sent back, contemn'd, 
Digraced, and scorn'd, his large expense hiu^h'd at. 
His bravery scoffd, the lady that he courted 
Left (|uietly in possession of another 
(Not to be named that day a courtier 
Where he was mentioned), the scarce-known Car- 
denes, 
And he to bear her from bim ! — that would ever 
Be seen again (having got fairly off) 
By such as will live ready witnesses 
Of his repulse, and scandal] 

Ant. The grief of it. 
Believe me, will not kill me; all mnn's honour 
Depends not on the most uncertain favour 
Of a fai-r mistress. 

Cur. Troth, you bear it well. 
You should have seen some that were sensible 
Of a disgrace, that would have raged, and sought 
To cure their honour with some strange revenge : 
But you are better temper'd ; and they wrong 
The Neapolitans in their report. 
That say they are fiery spirits, uncapa!)le 
Of the least injury, dangerous to be talk'd with 
Alter a loss ; where nothing can move you*. 
But, like a stoic, with a constancy 
Words nor affronts can shake, you still go on, 
And smile when men abuse you. 

Anl. If they wrong 
Themselves, 1 can ; yet, I would have you know, 
1 dare be angry. 

Cur. 'Tis not possible. 
A taste oft would do well ; and I'd make trial 
What may be done. Come hither, boy. — You have 

seen 
This jewel, as I take it] 

Aiit. Yes ; 'tis that 
I gave Almira. 

Car. And in vi-hat esteem 
She held it, coining from your worthy self, 
You may perceive, that freely hath bestow 'd it 
Upon my page. 

Ant. VVlien I presented it, 
I did not indent with her, to what use 
She should employ it. 

Cur. See the kindness of 
A loving soul ! who after this neglect. 
Nay, gross contempt, will look again upon her. 
And not be frighted from it. 

Ant. No, indeed, sir ; 
Nor give way longer — give way» do you mark, 
To your loose wit to run the wild-goose chase 



* After a loss ; y<\\eve nothing can move you,] K'here,(ot 
whereas, occurs so frequently in ihese Pl.i^s, tli.it it seems 
scarcely possible lo escape the notice of llie must incurious 
reader; yet the last ediior has overlooked it, and, in his at- 
tenipl to make the author speak Kni,Usli, p.oduced a line of 
unparalleled harmony : — 

Aj'ter a lot* ; for whereas noth'ng can move you ! 



442 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[ActI. 



Six sylldbles further. I will see the Indy, 
'J liat Uuly tlint dotes on you, i'rom ivhose hate 
My love increnses, tliowgh you stand elected 
Her poller to deny me. 

Car. Sure you will not. 

Ant. Yes, instantly : your [irosperous success 
Hath made you insolent; and Cor lier sake 
1 liave tlius long forborne you, and can yet 
Forget It and forgive it, ever provided, 
That you end liere ; and, for what's past recalling, 
That she make intercession for your pardon, 
Which, at her suit, I'll g-iant. 

Car. J am much unwilling 
To uiove her for a (rifle — bear tliat too, [Strikes him. 
And then she shall speak to you. 

Aiit. Men and angels. 
Take witness for ine, that I have endured 
More than a man ! — [Thet/ Jight ; Cardenes falls. 

O do not fall so soon, 
Stand up— take my hand — so ! when I have jirinted, 
For every contumelious word, a wound here. 
Then sink for ever. 

Car. Oil, I sutler justly ! 

i Serv. JMuider! murder! murder! [£j)i. 

2 Serv. Ajiprehend him. 

3 Serv. We'll all join with you. 
Ant. 1 do wish you more; 

My fury will be lost else, if it meet not 
Matter to work on ; one liie is too liilie 
For so much injury. 

Re-enter Almipa, Leonora, and Servant. 

Aim. O my Cardenes ! 
Though dead, still my Cardenes! A'illams. cowards. 
What do ye check at ? can one arm, and that 
A murderer's, so long guard the curs'd master, 
Against so many swords made sharp withjustice? 

1 Serv. Sure he will kill us all ; he is a devil. 

2 Seiv. He is invulnerable. 
Aim. Vour buse fears 

Beget such fancies in you. Give me a sword, 

[Siuitclies a swiiri/ from the Servant. 
This my weak arm, made strong in my revenge, 
Shall force a way to't. [Wounds Antonio. 

Ant. Would it were deefier, madam ! 
The thrust, which I would not put by, being yours. 
Of t:reater force, to have piened ihrougli that heart 
Which still retains your fiiiure ! — wee]) still, lady; 
For every tear that flows from tho?e grieved eyes, 
Some ])art of that which maintains life, goes from 

me ; 
And so to die were in a gentle slumber 
To pass to paradise : but you envy me 
So quiet a departure from my world. 
My uorld of miseries ; therefore, take my sword, 
And, having kill'd me with it, cure the wounds 
It gave Cardenes. 

Re-enter Pedho. 

Pedro. ' Pis too true : was ever 
Valmir so ill emploj'ed ! 

Ant. Why stay you, lady? 
Let not soft pity work on your hard nature ; 
You cannot do a better office to 
1 he deiid Cardenes, and I willingly 
Shall fall a ready sucrilice to appease him, 
Your fair hand offering it. 

Aim. I liou couldst ask nothing 
D'Jt this, which I would grant. 



Leon. Flint-hearted lady! 

Pedro. Aifc you a woman, sister' 

[Takes the sword from her 

Aim. Thou art not 
Ahiother, 1 renounce (hat title to thee; 
'I by hand is in this bloody act, 'twas this 
Kor which that savage homicide was sent hither 
Thou eipial Judge of all things* ! if that blood, 
And innocent blood 

Pedio. [Best sister.] 

Aim. Oh, Cardenes ! 
Hovv is my soul rent between rage and sorrow, 
'i h.it It can be that such an upright cedar 
.Shiuild violently be torn up by (he roots, 
Without ;in eartlupiake in that very moment 
To swallow ihein that did it! 

Ant. 1 he hurt's nothiiigf ; 
But the deep wound is in my conscience, friend, 
Which sorrow in death only can lecover. 

Pedro, flave better hopes. 

Enter Victnoy, Puke of Messina, Captain, Guards^ 
and Servants. 

Duke. My son, is this the marriage 
I came to celebrate! false hopes of man ' 
1 come to find a grave here. 

Aim. 1 have wasted 
]\Iy stock of tears, and now just anger help me 
To pav, in my revenge, the other part 
Of <liity which 1 owe thee. O e;reat sir, 
Not as a daughter now, but a poor widow, 
Made so before she was a bride, 1 fly 
'Jo your impartial justice : the offence 
Is death, and death in his most horrid form 5 
l^et not, (hen, title, or a prince's name 
(Since a j;reat crime is, in a great man, greaterj), 
Secure the offender. 

Duke. Give me life for life, 
As ihou wilt answer it to the great king. 
Whose deputy (hou art here. 

Aim. And speedy justice. 

Duke. I'ut the damn'd wretch to torture. 

Aim. Force him to 
Reveal his cuis'd confederates, which spare not. 
Although you find a son among them. 

Vice. How ' 

Duke. Why bring you not the rack forth ? 

Jllm. W heiefore stands 
The murdeier unbound] 



* Thou pqrial jvdye of all thinys! if that blood 
And innot;ent blood — 

Peiho. [IJ eat sister.] 

Alai. Oh, Vardfues ! 
How is mi/ soul, ice.) So, with the exception of Best sister, 
le.ids tlie old ropy. The modern editors strangely give tliis 
IdSl speech to Pedro, without noticing liovv ill it agrees with 
his ^elllinlell(s on the occasion, or with don John's answer. 
The fact seems to bu, that Pedro, alarmed at the solemn 
adjuration of his sister, abruptly checked her (in the old 
copy her speech is vnarUed as uiiliiiisl:cdj by a short address, 
wicjch chdiiged hir train of thinking, and produced the 
succeeding apostrophe to her lover. I am f.ir fmin giving 
the passage in brackets as the genuine one, thougli soiuething 
of the like nature app^ircutly once stood there : at any rate, 
1 am cciilideiit of having done well iu lollowing :lie old 
copy and le-toiing the speech to Almira. 

t Ant. The hurl's nothing ; &c,] From this it appears, 
that, (iuriiig Alinnas impassioned speech, don Pedro had 
bieii cond'luig uitli his triend on his wound ; another proof 
of the iu.iUCinion of the modern editors. 

X {HincK a fircat crime, in a great man, is yreater,)] 
Omtie unimi vitium ianto conspectius in se 
Ciiinenhabet, quanta major qui /leccat, habetttr. 
Juv. Sat. viii. v. 14U. 



Scene I.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



449 



Vice. Sliall I have liearingr? 
Dulie. Ivccelleiit lady, in tliig }-ou express 
Your irurt love to the dead. 
Aim. All love to mankind 
From rae, ends with him. 

Vice. Will you hear me yet? 
And first to vou : you do confess the fact 
With which you stand charged? 

Aiit. I will not make worse 
What is already ill, with vain denial. 

Vice. 1 hen understand, though you are prince of 
'i'arent, 
Yet, bein>^ a subject to the king- of Spain, 
No privilege of Sicily can free you 
(Being convict by a just firm of law) 
From the municipal statutes of that kintjdom, 
But as a common man, being found guilty, 
Must suffer for it. 

Ant. I prize not my life 
So much, as to appeal from anything 
You shall determine of me. 

Vice. Yet despair not 
To have an equal hearing ; the exclaims 
Of this grieved father, nor my daughter's tears. 
Shall sway me from myself ; and, where they urge 
To have j'ou tortured, or led bound to prison, 
I must not grant it. 
Duke. No ! 
Vice. I cannot, sir ; 
For men of bis rank are to be distinguish'd 



From other mpn, before they are condemn 'd. 
From w! ich (his cause not heurd) he yet stimdsfree* 
So t;ike him to your charge, and, as your life. 
See he be safe. 

Capt. Let me die for him else. 

[E.rennt Pedro and Capt. and guard with Ant, 

Duke. '1 he guard of him should have been given 
to me. 

Aim. Or uhto me. 

Duke. Bribes m:iy corrupt the captain. , 

Aim. And our just wreak, by force, or cunning 
practice. 
With scorn prevented. 

Car. Oh ! 

Aim. Wliat groan is that? 

Vice. There are apparent signs of life yet in him. 

Aim. Oh that there were ! that I could pour mj 
blood 
Into his veins ! 

Cur. Oh, oh ! 

Vice. Take him up gently. 

Duke. Run for physicians. 

Aim. Surgeons. 

Duke. All helps else. 

Vice. This care of his recovery, timely practised, 
^Vould have express'd more of a'father in you, 
Than your impetuous clamours for revenge. 
But I sliall find fit time to urge that further. 
Hereafter, to you ; 'tis not fit for me 
To add weight to oppress'd calamity, [^Exeunt, 



ACT TL 



SCENE I.— 4 Room iji the castle. 
Enter Pedro, Antonio, and Captain. 

Ant. Why should your love to me, having already 
So oft endured the test, be put unto 
A needless trial ? have you not, long since. 
In every circumstance and rite to friendship. 
Outgone all precedents the ancients boast of. 
And will you yet move further? 

Pedro. Hitherto 
I have done nothing (howsoe'er you value 
My weak endeavours) that mav justly claim 
A title to your friendshio, and much less 
Laid down the debt, which, as a tribute due 
To your deservings, not I, but all mankind 
Stands bound to tender. 

Ant Do not make an idol 
Of him that should, and without superstition. 
To you build up an altar. O my Pedro! 
When I am to expire, to call you mine. 
Assures a future happiness : give me leave 
To argue with you, and, the fondness of 
Affection struck blind, with justice hear me: 
Why should you, being innocent, fling your life 
Into ilie furnace of your father's nnger 
For my offence ? or, take it granted (}et 
Tis more than supposiiion) you prefer 
My safety 'fore your own, so prodigally 



You waste your favours, wherefore should this cap- 
tain. 
His blood and sweat rewarded in the favour 
Of his great master, falsify the trust 
Which, from true judgment, he reposes in him. 
For me, a stranger? 

Pedro. Let him answer that. 
He needs no prompter : speak your thoughts, and 
freely. 

Capt. 1 ever loved to do so, and it shames not 
The bliintness of my breeding : from mv youth 
I was train'd up a soldier, one of those 
That in their natures love the dangers more 
Than the rewards of danger. 1 could add, 
My life, when forfeited, the viceroy pardon'd 
But by his intercession ; and therefore. 
It being lent by him, I were ungrateful. 
Which I will never be, if I refused 
To pay that debt at any time demanded. 

Pedro. I hope, friend, this will satisfy you. 

/hit. No, it raises 
More d'ubts within me. ShuU I, from the schotf" 
Of gratitude, in which this capiam reads 
The text so plainly, lenrq to be unthankful ? 
Or, viewino; in \our actions the idea 
Of perfect friendship, when it does point to me 
llow brave a ihioi; it is to be a friend, 
Turn fr' m the object? Had I never loved 
The fair Almira tor her outward features, 



444 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act II, 



Nay, were tlie beauties of her miud suspected, 
And her contein|)t and scorn painted before me. 
The being- your sister would anew infliime me 
With much more impotence* to dote upon her: 
No, dear friend, let me in my death confirm 
(Thoug:h you in all things else have the precedence) 
I'll die ten times, ere one of Pedro's hairs 
Shall suffer in my cause. 

Pedro. If you so love me, 
In love to tliat part of my soul dwells in you 
(For though two bodies, friends have but one soul), 
Lose not buih life and me. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv. The prince is dead. [Exit. 

Ant. If so, shall I leave Pedro here to answer 
For my escape ? as thus I clasp thee, let 
Tiie viceroy's sentence find me. 

Pedro. Fly, for heaven's sake ! 
Consider the necessity ; thoug;li now 
We part, Antonio, we may meet again, 
But death's division is for ever, friend. 

Enter another Servant. 

Serv. The rumour spread, sir, of Martino's death. 
Is check'd ; there's hope of his recovery. [Exit. 

Ant. Why should I fly, then, when I may enjoy, 
With mine ow n life, my friend 1 

Pedro. That's still uncertain. 
He may have a relapse ; for once be ruled, friend : 
He's a good debtor that pays when 'tis due ; 
A prodigal, that, before it is required, 
Makes tender of it. 

Enter Sailors. 

1 Sail. The bark, sir, is ready. 

2 Suit. The wind sits fair. 

3 Sail. Heaven favours your escape. 

[Whistle within. 

Capt. Hark, how the boatswain whistles you 
aboard ! 
Will nothing move you? 

Ant. Can 1 leave my friend ? 

Pedro. I must delay no longer : force him hence. 

Capt. I'll run the hazard of my fortunes with you. 

Ant. What violence is this? — hear but my rea- 
sons. 

Pedro. Poor friendship that is cool'd with argu- 
ments ! 
Away, away ! 

Capt. For Malta. 

Pedro. You shall hear 
All our events. 

Ant. 1 niav sail round the world, 
But never meet thy like. Pedro ! 

Pedro. Antonio ! 

Ant. 1 breathe my soul back to thee. 

Pedro. In exchange 
Bear mine alon* with thee. 

Capt. Cheeily my hearts ! [Exeunt. 

Pedro. He's gone : may pitying heaven his pilot 
be, 
And then I weigh not what becomes of me. [Exit. 



* With mncli more impotence to dote upon her :} So the 
old copy. Coxe;er dislikes impotence, for which he would 
read impatience ; and Mr. M. Mason, I know not for what 
reason, omits much, which dtstroys llie metre. It requires 
no words to prov» the text lo be genuine. 



SCENE II. — A Room in the Viceroy's Palace, 
Enter Viceroy, Duke o^ Messina, and Attendants, 

Vice. I tell you right, sir. 

Duke. Yes, like a rough surgeon. 
Without a feeling in yourself you search 
My wounds unto the quick, then pre-declare 
The fediousness and danger of tlie cure, 
Never remembering what the patient suffers. 
But you preach this philosophy to a man 
That does partake of passion, and not 
To a dull stoic. 

Vice. I confess you have . 
Just cause to mourn your son ; and yet, if reason 
Cannot yield comfort, let example cure. 
I am a father too, my only daughter 
As dear in my esteem, perhaps as worthy, 
As your Martino, in her love to him 
As desperately ill, either's loss equal ; 
And yet I bear it with a better temper : 

Enter PEDito. 

Which if you please to imitate, 'twill not wrong 
Your piety, nor your judgment. 

Duke. We were fashioned 
In different moulds. I weep with mine own eyes, 

sir. 
Pursue my ends too ; pity to you's a cordial. 
Revenge to me ; and that I must and will have. 
If my Martino die. 

Pedro. Your must and will, 
Shall in your full-sailed confidence deceive you. 

[Asidb. 
Here's doctor Paulo, sir. 

Enter Paulo and two Surgeons. 

Duke. My hand ! you rather 
Deserve my knee, and it shall bend as to 
A second father, if your saving aids 
Restore my son. 

Vice. Rise, thou bright star of knowledge, 
'I'hou honour of thy art, thou help of nature, 
Thou glory of our academies I 

Paul. If I blush, sir. 
To hear these attributes ill-placed on me 
It is excusable. I am no god, sir, 
Nor holy saint that can do miracles. 
But a weak, sinful man : yet, tliiit I may 
In some proportion deserve these favours 
Your excellencies please to grace me with, 
I promise all the skill I have acquired 
In simples, or the careful observation 
Of the superior bodies, with my judgment 
Derived from long experience, stand ready 
To do you service. 

Duke. Modestly replied. 

Vice. How is it with your princely patient 1 

Duke. Speak, 
But S[)eak some comfort, sir. 

Paul. I must speak truth : 
His wounds though many, heaven so guided yet 
Antonio's sword, it pierced no part was mortal. 
These gentlemen, who worthily deserve 
The names of surgeons, have done their duties : 
The means they practised, not ridiculous charms 
To stop the blood ; no oils, nor balsams bought 
Of cheating quack-salvers, or mountebanks. 
By them applied : the rules by Chiron taught. 
And Jisculapius, which drew upon him 



Scene III.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



445 



The tliunderer's envy, they with care pursued. 
Heaven pios[)priiin; tlieir endeavours. 

Duke. I lieie is hope, then, 
Of his recovery ? « 

Paul. But no assurance ; 
I must not flatter you. 'I'hat little air 
Of comloit tliiit bieatlies towards us (for I dare not 
Rob these t'eiiridi myself) you owe their care j 
For, yet, I h.ive done nothing. 

Duke. Still more modest ; 
I will begin with them : to either give 
Three thousiuid crowns. 

Vice. I'll double ) our reward; 
See them paid presently. 

1 Surg. 'J"l)is niagnlKcence 

With equity cannot be conferred on us; 
*Tis due unto the doctor. 

2 Surg. True ; we were 

But his subordinate ministers, and did only 
Follow his grave directions. 

Paul. '1 IS your own ; 
I challenge no part in it. 

Vice. Brave on both sides. 

Paul. Deserve this, with the honour that will 
follow, 
In your attendance. 

y Surg. K boih sleep at once, 
'Tis jiisuie both should die. [Exeunt Sui-geons, 

Duke. For you, grave doctor, 
We will not in such petty sums consider 
Your high deserts ; our treasury lies open. 
Command it as your own. 

Vice. Choose any castle. 
Nay, city, in our goveinment, and be lord oft. 

Paul. Of neither, sir, I am not so ambitious j 
Nor would 1 have your highnesses secure. 
We have but faintly yet begun our journey ; 
A thousand difiicullies and dangers must be 
Encounter'd, ere we end it : though his hurts, 
I mean his outward ones, do promise lair, 
There is a deeper one, and in his mind, 
Must be with care provided for : melancholy. 
And at the height, too near akin to madness, 
Possesses him ; his senses are distracted. 
Not one, but all ; and, if I can collect them 
With all the various ways invention 
Or industry e'er practised, 1 shall write it 
IVly masterpiece. 

Duke. You more and more engage me. 

Vice, ftlay we not visit him ? 

Paul, By no means, sir ; 
As he is now, such courtesies come untimely: 
I'll yield you reason for't. Should he look on you, 
It will renew the memory of that 
Which 1 would have forgotten ; your good prayers. 
And those I do presume shall not be wanting. 
To my endeavours are the utmost aids 
I yet desire your excellencies should grant me. 

So, with my humblest service 

Duke. Go, and prosper. [^Exit Paulo, 

Vice. Observe his piety ! — I have heard, how true 
J. know not, most pliysicians, as they grow 
Greater in skill, giow less in their religion ; 
Attributing so much to natural causes, 
That they have little faith in that they cannot 
Deliver reason for* : this doctor steers 



/ have heard, how true 



Another course— but let this pass ; if you please, 
Y'oiir company to my daughter. 

Duke. 1 wait on you. [Eieunt. 



/ know not, most yhysicians, as they grow 



SCENE III. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter Leonora and Waiting Women. 
Lenn. Took she no rest to night? 

1 IVom. Net any, madam ; 

1 am sure she slept not. If she shimber'd, straight^ 
As if some .Ireadful vision had appear'd. 
She started up, her hair unbound, and. with 
Distracted looks-staring about the ch.unber, 
She asks alwud U heie is Muriino? uhere 
Hate fiou coiiceal'd himl Sometimes names Antonio, 
'Irembling in every joint, her brows contrai ted. 
Her tair faie as 'twere changed into a curse. 
Her hands he d up thus; and, as if her words 
Were too big to find passage through her mouth, 
She groins, then throws herself upon her bed. 
Beating her breast. 

Le.ui, ' i'ls wonderous strange. 

"^ IVum. Nay, more ; 
She that of late vouchsaferl not to be seen. 
But so adoin'd as if she were to rival 
Nero's P,ip])a.'a, or the Egyptian queen. 
Now, ciireless of her beauties, when we offer 
Our service, she contemns it. 

Le-i)i. Does she not 
Scmeiimes forsake her chamber? 

2 Horn. Much about 

Tins hour; then witi) a strange unsettled gait 
She measures twice or thrice the gallery, 
Silent, and frowning (we dare not speak to her), 
And then returns. — She's come : pray you, now ob- 
serve her. 

Enter Almira in black, carelessly huhiied. 

Aim. Why are ray eyes fix'd on the ground, and 
not 
Bent upwards? ha ! that which was mortal of 



Grratfr in skill, grow less in their religion; 
Altrihidini/ so much to natural causes. 
That they have little faith in that they cannot 
Deliver reason for :] I'lie history of nidnkind unfortunately 
fiiiiiishts too many instances of this niil.niclioly fact, to 
ppniiit a doubt on ihe subject. Let it be ad. led, however, 
that Ihey chiefly occur among the half-iiifoinn d of the pro-"* 
fcssiun : several <if whom, as they have "row ?i yet greater 
in s'li/l, hive, to their praise, renoiniced tlieir scepticism 
with their confidence, and increased no less in piety than 
in Ikiiowl. dgc. Ben Jonson observes, with his usual force 
and pt rspicuiiy : 

" fluT is a young physician to the family, 
Tliat, letting God alone, ascribes to nature 
More than lur share ; licentious in discourse. 
And in his life a profe=t voluptuary ; 
The slave of money, a buffoon in m.inners. 
Obscene in l.inguage, which lie vent- for wit. 
And saucy in his logics and disputing " 

Magnetic Lady. 
I have no propensity to personal satire, nor do i think it 
jnst to convert an ancient author into a libtllist, by an 
appropriation of his descriplions to modern characiers; yet 
I must, for once, be indulged with saying, that almost every 
woid here d. liverert applies so lorcibly to a late physician, 
tliHt it nquires some evidence to believe ihe lines were 
written nearly two centuries ago. To lessen the wonder, 
however, it may be observed that, from the days of Dr. 

Kilt lo those of Dr. D n, that description of men who, 

letting God alone, ascribe to nature more than her share, 
have been commonly licentious, petulant, and obacene 
buffoons. 



4-16 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act II 



My daar Martino, as a debt to nature, 
1 know this motlier earth had sepulchred ; 
But his diviner part, his soul, o'er which 
The tyniiit Death, nor yet the fatal sword 
Of curs '(I Anionio, his instrument, 
Had the least power, borne upon angels' wings 
Appointed to that office, mounted far 
Above ilie firmament. 

Leon. Stiange imagination ! 
Dear cousin, your Martino lives. 

Aim. 1 know you, 
And that in this you flatter me; he's dead, 
As much as could die of him : — but look yonder ! 
Amongst a million of glorious lights 
That deck the iieavenly canopy, I have 
Discern'd his soul, transforra'd into a star. 
Do you not see it? 

Leon. Lady ! 

Aim. Look with my eves. 
What splendour circles it! the heavenly archer. 
Not far oft" distant, a|ipears dim with envy, 
Viewing- himself outshin'd. Bright constellation, 
Dart down thy beams of pity on Almira, 
And, since thou find'st such grace where now thou 

art. 
As I did truly love thee on the earth. 
Like a Kind harbinger, prepare my lodging, 
And place me near thee ! 

Leon. I much more than fear 
She'll grow into a frenzy. 

Aim. How! what's this? 
A dismal sound ! come nearer, cousin ; lay 
Your ear close to the ground, — closer, I pray you. 
Do you howl? are you there, Antonio? 

Leon. Where, sweet lady ? 

Aim. In the vault, in hell, on the infernal rack, 
Where murderers are tormented; — yerk him 

soundly, 
'Twas Rhadamanth's sentence ; do your office, 

furies. 
How he roars ! What ! plead to me to mediate for 

you ! 
I'm deaf, I cannot hear you. 

Leon. ' Tis but fancy ; . 
Collect yourself. 

Aim. Leave babbling ; 'tis rare music ! 
Rhamnusia plays on a pair of tongs 
Red iiot, and Proserpine dances to the consort; 
Pluto sits laughing by too*. So ! enough : 
I do begin to pity him. 

Leon. I wish, madam. 
You would show it to yourself. 

2 Worn. Her fit begins 
To leave her. 

Aim. Oh my brains I are you there, cousin? 

Leon. Now she speaks temperately. I am ever 
ready 
To do you service : how do you? 

Aim. Very much troubled. 
I have had the strangest waking dream of hell 
And heaven — I know not what. 

Leon. My lord your father 
Is come to visit you ; as you would not grieve him 
That is so tender of you, entertain him 
With a becoming duty. 



• This is not madness but light-licadedness : but such, in- 
deed, is tiie malady of Almira. Later writers have mistaken 
it8 charactL-ristics, and copied them (a woiiderfuUy easy mat- 
tcrX fur iiiaduesg. 



Enter ViCFnov, Dnhe of Messina, Pkhiio, and 
Attendants, 

Vice. Still forlorn ! 
No comfort, my Almira? 

Duke. In your sorrow. 
For my Martino, madam, vou liave expres^'d 
All possible love and tenderness ; too nuii-li of it 
Will wrong yourself, and him. lie may live, lady 
(For we are not past hope), witli his future service, 
In some part to deserve it. 

Aim. If heaven please 
To be so gracious to me, I will serve him 
With such obedience, love, and humbleness, 
'1 hat I will rise up an example for 
Good wives to follow : but until I have 
Assurance what fate will determine of me. 
Thus like a desolate widow, give me leave. 
To weep for him ; for should he die, I have vow'd 
Not to outlive him ; and my humble suit is, 
One monument may cover us, and Antonio 
(Injustice you must grant me that) be oll'er'd 
A sacrifice to our ashes. 

Vice. Prithee put off 
.These sad thoughts ; both shall live, I doubt it not, 
A happy, pair. 

Enter Ct'CULO, and J5orachia. 

Cue. O sir, the foulest treason 
That ever was iliscover'd ! 

Vice. Speak it, that 
We may prevent it. 

Cue. Nay, 'tis past prevention ; 
Though you allow me wise (in modesty, 
I will not say oraculous), I cannot help it, 
I am a statesman, and some say a wise one, 
But I could never conjure, nor divine 
Of things to come. 

Vice. Leave fooling : to the point. 
What treason ? 

Cue. 'Jhe false prince, Don John Antonio, 
Is fled. 

Vice. It is not possible. 

Pedro. Peace, screech-owl. 

Cue. I must speak, and it shall out, sir ; the captain 
You trusted with the fort is run away too. 

Aim. miserable woman ! I defy 
All comfort : cheated too of my revenge ! 
As j'ou are my father, sir, and you my brother, 
I will not curse you ; but I dare, and will say, 
You are unjust and treacherous. — If there be 
A way to death, I'll find it. [Exit. 

Vice. Follow her; 
She'll do some violent act upon herself; 
'Till she be better temper'd, bind her hands, 
And fetch the doctor to her. 

[^Exeunt Leonora, and Waiting Women. 
Had not you 
A hand in this ? 

Pedio. l,sir! I never knew 
Such disobedience. 

Vice. My honour's touch'd in't : 
Let gallies be mann'd forth in his pursuit ; 
Searili every port and harbour ; if I live, 
He shall not 'scape thus. 

Duke. Fine hy])Ocrisy! 
Away, dissemblers ! 'tis confederacy 
Betwixt thy bon, and self, and tlie false captain. 
He could not thus have vanish'd else. You bava 

murder'd 
My son amongst you, and now murder iustice : 
Vou know it most impossible he should live. 



Scene II.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



4i7 



Howe'erihe doctor, for your ends, dissembled, 
Ami veil hive sliilted hence Antonio. 

Vice. iMessina, thou"rt a cruzed and grieved old 
niuti, 
And being in my court, protected by 
'Mie hivv of hospitalitv, or I sliould 
Give you a sliarper answer: may I perish 
If I knew of his flight! 

Duke. Fire, then, tlie castle. 
HMnij- u[) then ilje captain's wife and children. 

Vice. Fie, sir ! 

redro. My lord, you are uncharitable; capital 
tre^isons 
Ex!ict not so much. 

Duke. Thanks, most noble signior. 
We ever had your good word and your love. 

Cut'. Sir, 1 d.ire pass my word, my lords are clear 
Of any imputation in this case 
You seem to load them with. 

Duke. Impertinent fool I 

No, no, the loving faces )ou put on 

Have been but graining visors : you have juggled 

me 
Out of my son, and out of justice too ; 
But Spain shall do me right, believe me. Viceroy: 
There i will force it from thee by the king, 
He shalSnot eat nor sleep in peace for me. 
Till 1 am rigliied for this treachery. 

Vice. I'hy worst, Messina ; since no reason can 
Qiialifv thy intemperance : the corruption 
Of my subordinate ministers cannot wrong 
My true integrity. Let privy searchers 
Examine all the land. 

Pedro. Fair fall Antonio ! 

[Exeunt Viveroy, Pedro, and Attendants. 

Cue. This is my wife, my lord ; troth speak your 
( onscience, 
Is'tnot a goodly (iame? 

Duke. She is no less, sir; 
1 will make use of these ; may I entreat you* 
To call my niece ? 

Bcia. Wiih speed, sir. \^Eiit Borachia. 

Cue. You may, my lord, suspect me 
As an adept in these state conveyances : 
Let signior Cuculo, then, be never more, 
For all his place, wit, and authority. 
Held a most worthy honest gentleman. 

Re-enter BoRACHiA with Leonoua. 

DuUe. I do acquit'you, signior. Niece, j'ou see 
To what extremes I am driven : the cunning viceroy. 
And his son Pedro, having express'd too plainly 
Tiieir cold aftections to my son Martino : 
And tjjerefore-l conjure thee, Leonora, 
By all thy hopes from me, which is my dukedom 
if my son tail ; however, all thy fortunes ; 
Though heretofore some love hath past betwixt 
Don Pedro, and thyself, abjure him now : 
And as tliou keep'st Almira company, 
In this her desolation, so in hate 
To this joung Pedro for thy cousin's love. 
Be her associate ; or assure thyself, 
1 cast thee like a stranger from my blood. 



* J mil make use of thcfe : mai/ J entreat you.] So the 
oldci>|ry: Mr. M. Miisoii cIkiosis to read, 
i Will ma e use of Cuculo aiul Uoruchia. May I entreat 

you. 
If i;.jti portentons lines as these may be introduced witlioiu 
r'-aacj^ md without authority, there is an end of all editor- 
thip. 



If I do ever hear thou see'st, or send'st 
Token, orreceiv'st message —by yon heaven, 
1 never more will own thee ! 

Leein. (), deai uncle ! 
You have put a tyrannous yoke upon my heart. 
And it will break it. ' [Exit. 

Duke. Gravest lady, you 
May be a great assister in my ends. 
I buy your diligence thus : — divide this couple ; 
Hinder tlieir interviews ; feign 'tis her will 
To gi^e him no admittance, if he crave it; • 
And thy rewards shall be thine own desires ; 
Whereto, good sir, but add your friendly aids. 
And use me to my uttermost. 

Cue. My lord, 
If my wife please, I dare not contradict. 
Borachia, what do you say? 

Bora. I say, my lord, 
1 know my place ; and be assured I will 
Keep fire and tow asunder. 

Duke. You in this 
Shall much deserve me. [£xtf« 

Cue. We have ta'eii upon us 
A heavy charge : I hope you'll now forbear 
The excess of wine. 

Bora. 1 will do what T please. 
This day the market's kept for slaves ; go you, 
And buy me a (ine-timber'd one to assist me ; 
1 must be better waited on. 

Cue. Anything, 
So you'll leave wine. 

Bora. Still prating ! 

Cue. 1 am gone, duck. 

Bora. Pedro ! so hot upon the scent! I'll fit Lira. 

Enter PEono. 

Pedro. Donna Borachia, you most happily 
Are met to ])leasuro me. 

Bom. It may be .--o, 
I use to pleasure many. Here lies my way, 
1 do beseech you, sir, keep on your vovage. 

Pedro. Be not so short, sweet lady, I must with 
you. 

Bora. With me, sir! I beseech you, sir; why, 
what, sir. 
See you in me ? 

Pedro. Do not mistake me, lady. 
Nothing but hotiesty. 

Bora. Hang honesty ! 
Trump nie not up with honesty: do you mark, sir, 
I have a charoe, sir, and a special charge, sir, 
And 'tis not honesty can win on me, sir. 

Pedro. Pritliee conceive me rightly. 

Boru. I conceive you ! 

Pedro. But understand. 

Bora. I will not understand, sir, 
I cannot, nor I do not understand, sir. 

Pedro. Prithee, Borachia, let me see my mistress, 
But look upon her ; stand you by. 

Bora. How's this ! 
Shall I stand by ? what do you think of me? 
Now, by the virtue of the place I holtl. 
You are a paltry lord to tempt my trust thus : 
I am no Helen, nor no Hecuba, 
To be defiower'd of my loyalty 
With your fair language. 

Pedro. I hou mistak'st me still. 

Bora. It may be so, my place will bear me out 
in't. 



us 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Arrlll. 



And will mistake you still, make you your best 
on'l. 
Pedro. A pox upon thee ! let me but belioUl her. 
Bora. A plague upon you I you shall never see 

her. 
Pedro. This is a crone in grain ! thou art so 
testy — 
Prithee, lake breath, and know thy friends. 

Bora. 1 will not, 
I have no f'liends, nor I will have none this way: 
And, now I think on't better, why will you see her? 
Pedro. Because she loves me dearly, I her 

equally. 
Bora. She hates you damnably, most wickedly, 
13uild that upon my word, most wickedly ; 
And swears her eyes are sick when they behold 

you. 
How fearfully have 1 heard her rail upon you. 
And cast and rail again ; and cast again ; 
Call for hot waters, and then rail again ! 
Pedro. How ! 'tis not possible. 
Bora. I huve heard her swear 
(How justly, you best know, and where the cause 

lies) 
Tliat you are — I shame to tell it — but it must out. 
Fie ! fie ! why, how have you deserved itl 
Pedro. I am what? 

Bora. 'I'he beastliest man — why, what a grief 
must this be ? 
(Sir revert-nce of the company) — a rank whore- 
master : 
Ten liverv whores, she assured me on her credit. 
With weeping eyes she .-pake it, and seven citizens. 
Besides all voluntaries that serve under you. 
And of all countries. 

Pedi o. Ihis must needs be a lie. 
Bora. Besides, you are so careless of your body, 
Whicli is a foul fault in you. 

Pedro. Leave your fooling, t 

For this shall be a fable : happily 
My sister's anger may grow strong against me. 
Which thou mistak'st. 

Bora. She hates you very well too, 
But your mistress hates you heartily :— look upon 

you ! 
Upon my conscience, she would see the devil first, 
With eyes as big as saucers; when 1 but uamed 

you. 
She has leap'd back thirty feet : if once she smell 

you. 
For certainly you are rank, she says extreme rank. 



And the wind stand with you too, she's gone for 
ever. 

Pedro. For all this, i would see her. 

Bora. That's all one. 
Have vou new eyes when those are scratch 'd out, or 

a nose 
To clap on warm.? have you proof against a piss- 
pot. 
Which, if they bid me, I must fling upon vou ? 

Pe^ro. I shall not see her, then, you say ? 

Bora. It seems so. 

Pedio. Prithee, be thus far friend then, good 
Borachia, 
To give her but this letter, and this ring. 
And leave thy jjleasant lying, which 1 pardon ; 
But leave it in her pocket ; there's no lianii in"t. 
I'll take thee up a petticoat, will that please thee? 

Bora. Take up my petticoat ! 1 scorn the motion, 
I scorn it with my lieels ; take up my petticoat' 

Pedro. And why thus hot? 

Bora. Sir, you shall find me hotter. 
If you take up my petticoat. 

Pedro. I'll give thee a new petticoat. 

Bora. 1 i-corn the gift — take up my petticoat ! 
Alas! my lord, you are too young, my lord, 
Too young, my lord, to circumcise me that way. 
Take up my petticoat I 1 am a woman, 
A woman of another way, my lord, 
A gentlewoman : he ihut takes up my petticoat. 
Shall have enough to do, 1 warrant him, 
I would fain see the proudest of you all so lusty. 

Pedro. Thou art disposed still to mistake me. 

Bora. Petticoat! 
You show now what you are; but do your worst, 
sir. 

Pedro. A wild-fire take thee ! * 

Bora. 1 ask no favour of you. 
And so 1 leave you ; and withal I charge you 
In my own name, for, sir, I'd have you know it, 
In this place 1 present your father's person: 
Upon your life, not dare to follow me. 
For if you do — \Exii. 

Pedro. Go and tlie p — go with thee, 
If thou hast so much moisture to receive them. 
For thou wilt have them, though a horse bestow 

them, 
I must devise a way — for I must see her, 
And very suddenly ; and, madam petticoat. 
If all the wit I have, and this can do, 
I'll make you break your charge, and your hope 
too. [Exit 



ACT III. 



SCENE l.—A Market-place. 

Enter Slave-merchant and Servant, with Antonio 
and Captain disguised, English Slave, and diners 
Slaves. 

Merch. Come, rank yourselves, and stand out 

handsomely. 
— Now ring the bell, that they may know my market. 
Stand you two here ; [To Antonio and the Captaitt.J 

you are personable men. 



And apt to yield good sums if women cheapen. 

Put me that pig-tomplexion'd fellow behind, 

He will spoil my sale else ; the slave looks like 

famine. 
Sure he was got in a cheese-press, the whey runs 

out on's nose yet. 
He will not yield above a peck of oysters — 
If I can get a quart of wine in too, you are gone, sir 
Why sure, thou hadst no father 1 
Slave. Sure I know not. 



SCSNE T.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



44y 



Merck. No, certainly ; a March frog [leap'd]' thy 
mother ; 
Thou'rt but a monster paddock. — Look who comes, 
t,iriiih — [Exit Servant. 

And next prepare the sons:, and do it lively. — 
Your tricks too, sirrah, tliey are ways to catch the 
buver, [To the English slave. 

And if you do them well, they'll prove good dowries. 
— How now ? 

Re-enter Servant. 
Sen. They come, sir, with their bags full loaden. 
Merch. Reach me my stool. O ! here they come. 

Enter ^AVLo, Apothecary, Cuculo, and Citizens. 

Cue. That's he. 
He never fails monthly to sell his slaves here ; 
He buys thein presently upcn their taking. 
And so disperses them to every market. 

Mer.k. Begin the song, :md cl.'antit merrily. 

A Song by one of the Slaves, 
Well done. 

PiihI. Good morrow. 

Merch. Morrow to you. signiors. 

Paid. We Lonie to look upon your slaves, and 
bij)' too, 
If WH can like the persons and the prices. 

Cue. 'I'hey sliow fine active fellows. 

Merch. i'hey are no Itss, sir. 
And ]ieo}ile of strong labours. 

)'aitl. 'I'ljut's in the proof, sir. 

Ap'.iih. Pray what's tlie price of this red-bearded 
/(bIIow ? 
If his gall be good, I have certain uses for him. 

^Ii'rch. My sorrel slaves are of a lower price, 
Bei aiise the colour's faint : — fifty chequins, sir. 

Apoth. What be his virtues ? 

Merch. He will poison rats; 
Make iiiin but angry, and his eyes kill spiders ; 
Let liim but lasting spit upon a toad, 
And ])iesentlv it bursts, and dies; his dreams kill: 
He'll run you in a wheel, and draw up water, 
But if his nose drop in't, 'twill kill an army. 
When you have worn him to the bones with uses, 
'J'brusi him into an oven luted well. 
Dry him, and beat him, flesh and bone, to powder, 
And that kills scabs, and aches of all climates. 

Apath. Frav at what distance inaj' I talk to him ? 

Merch. Give him but sage and butter in a morning, 
And there's no fear : but keep him from all women; 
For there his poison swells most. 

Apoth. 1 will have him. 
Cannot he breed a plague too ? 

Mi-rch. Yes, yes, yes, 
Feed him with fogs ; prubatum. — Now to you, sir. 
Do you like liiis slave? ' [Poiutingto Antonio. 

Cue. Yes, if 1 like his prire well. 

Merch. 'i'he price is full an hundred, nothing bated. 
Sirrah, sell the Moors there : — feel, he's high and 

lusty. 
And oi a gamesome nature ; bold, and secret. 
Apt to win favour of the man that owns him. 
By diligence and duty : look upon him. 

Paul. Do vou hear, sir] 

Merch. I'll be with you presently. — 
Mark but his limbs, that slave will cost you four-, 
score ; [Pointing to the Captain. 



• Olii copy* " Kept thy ir.otlier." 



An easy price — turn him about, and view him 

For these two, sir ? why, they are the finest chfl 

dren 

Twins, on my credit, sir. — Do you see this boy, sir 
He will run as far from you in an hour 

1 Cit Will he so, sir? 

Merch. Conceive me rightly, — if upon an errand 
As any horse you liave. 

2 Ctt. Wliat will this girl do? 
Merch. Su'Ve no liarm at all, air, 

For she sleeps most an end*. 

Cit. An excellent housewife. 
Of what religion are they >. 

Merch. What you will, sir, 
So there be meat anil drink in't : they'll do little 
That shall offend you, for their chief desire 
Is to do nothing at ail, sir. 

Cue. A hundred is too much. 

Merck. Not a doit hiited : 
He's a brave slave, bis eve shows activeness; 
Fire and the mettle of a man dwell in him. 
Here is one you shall have 

Cue. For what ? 

Merch. For nothing, 
And thank vou too. 

Paul. What can he do ? 

Merch, Why, any thing that's ill. 
And never blush at it • he's so true a thief. 
That he'll t-teal from himself, and think he has got 

by it. 
He stole out of his mother's belly, being an infan*; 
And from a lousy nuise he stole his nature, 
From a dog his look, and from an ape his nimble- 

ness ; 
He will look in your face and pick your pockets, 
Rob ye the most wise rat of a cheese-paring, 
'I'here where a cat will go in, he will follow. 
His body has no back-bone. Into my company 
He stole, for 1 never bought him, and will steal into 

yours. 
An you stay a little longer. Now, if any of you 
J5r given to the excellent art of lying. 
Behold, before you here, the masterpiece ; 
He'll outliehim that taught him, monsieur devil, 
Offer to swear he has eaten nothing in a twelve- 
month. 
When hi; mouth's full of meat. 

Cue. Pray keep him, he's a jewel ; 
And here's your money for this fellow. 

Merch. He's yours, sir. 

Cue. Come, follow me. [Exit with Antonio. 

* Cit. Twenty chequins for these two. 

Merch. For live and twenty take them. 

* Merch. Sure no harm af all, sir. 

For shi^ slei^ps tnoA nil Kiii\. i.e. Perpetually, without in- 
termi»simi. In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Prolenn 
says of Lannce : 

" A slave th.it xtill an pnrf turns me to shame.'" 
That is, says Slcevens, "at the conclusion of every business 
he Hiidert;ikes." He wa? set rij;ht by Mr. M. Masan ; but 
he persi-ted in his erroneous explanation: nliter nnn fit, 
Avite, liher. \v ith respect to the meaning whicli is here 
assiijiied to most, or, as it is sometimes writien, still an end, 
thtie cannot e.'ii.it a reasonable doubt of its propriety. Tims 
Cartwris;hi : — 

" Now help, good heaven! 'lis such an iiDconth thing 
'l"o be a willow out of term time! 1 
Do feel such aguish qu lins, and dumps, and fits. 
And shakings sllll an end. The Ordinary. 

Indeed, the phrase has iiol been long oiitofir-e. I meet with 
it. for the List time, in the Uediiatioii to I'he Divine Leifo- 
tion of iMo^ps: — "' he ninsoii in a strangejuriibled character ; 
Iml ha- ^nost an end, a strong disposition to make a farce c4 
it." P. xi. 



«50 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act IIL 



Cit. There's your money ; 
ni have them, if it be to sing- in cages. 

Merch. Give tliem imrd eygs, you never liad such 

bliickhirds. 
Cit. ]s she a maici, dost think ? 
Merch. I dare not swear, sii . 
Slie is nine year old, at ten V'lU shall find few here. 
CU. A merry ftllow ! thou say'st true. Come, 
children. 

[£jii with liie (u'o Moors. 
Paul. Here, tell your money ; if his life but 
answer 
His outward promises, I liave bought him cheap 
sir. 
Merch Too cheap, o' conscience, lie's a pregnant 
knave ; 
Full of fin* thought; I vi-arrant him. 
PaiiL He's but weak-timber'd*. 
Merch. 'Tis the better sir ; 
He will turn geiiilemaii a great deal sooner. 
Paul. Very weak leg;s. 
Merch. Strong- as liie time allows, sir. 
Paul. What's tiiat fellow ? 

Merch. Who, this? the finest thing; in all the 
world, sir. 
The punctuallest, and the perfectest ; an English 

metal. 
But coin'd in France ; your servant's servant, sir ; 
Do you understand that? or your shadow's servuKt. 
Will you buy bim to carry in a box? Kiss your 

hand, sirrah ; — 
Let fall your cloak on one shoulder ; — face to your 

left hand •, — 
Feather your hat ; — slope your bat ;— now charge. — 

Your honour, 
What think you of this fellow ? 

Paul. Indeed, I know not; 
I never saw such an ape before : but, hark you, 
Are these things serious in his nature ? 

Merch. Yes, yes ; 
Part of his creed : come, do some more devices f. 
Quarrel a little, and take him. for your enemy. 
Do it in dumb show. JS'ow observe him nearly. 
Paul. '.Ibis fellow's mad, stark mad. 
Merch. Believe the}' are all so : 
I have sold a hundred of them. 

Paul. A strange nation ! 
What may the women be ? 
Merch. As mad as they, 
And, as 1 have heaid for truth, a great deal madder ; 
Yet, you may find some civil things amongst them, 
But they are not respected. Kay, never wonder ; 
They have a city, sir, I have been in it. 
And therefore dare affirm it, wheie, if you saw 



* PmuI. Tfr'a but weak timhcr'd. 
Mrrili. 'Tis the bitter, sii j 

He will turn i/entlemau ayreat deal sooner.] Small legs 
seem, at this limi;, t(. Ii.ive bueii . un=iileie(l as one ot llie 
chai-rtcienstic marks of a line gentleman. Tims Jonsoii ;— 

C'hlo. Arc }0u a tientltman born? 

Cris. That 1 am, lady; you shall sec my arms, if it please 
you. 

Ch/o. No; your legs do siifTiciently show you ire a gen- 
llenian horn, sn- ; for a in.m borne upon Utile ligs is always 
» geiitUniaii burn. — Poelaser. 

* come, do some more devic s, &c.] This 

must liave been a most diverting scene : the ridicule on the 
Fiencli, or rather on the liavelUd Knglish, who caiic.itmed 
while they aped, the foppish manners of tlie Continent, was 
i-ever more exquisitely pointed: indi.ecl, 1 reeullect nothin-; 
V.-. tf.e subject, in any of our old dianialisis, that can be Said 
to come near it. What lollows is in a higher tone. 



With what a load of vanity 'tis fraughted, 
How like iin everlasting morris-dance it looks, 
Nothing but bobliy-horse, and maid Marian, 
You would start indeed. 

Paul. They are handsome men. 
Merih. ^ es, if they vv< uld thanli their maker, 
And seek no furtlier ; but they have new creators, 
God tailor, and god mercer : a kind of Jews, sir, 
But fall'n into idolatry, for they worship 
Nothing with -o much service, as the c-ow-calves. 
Paul. What do you mean by cow-calves? 
Merch. \Vby, their women. 
Will you see him do anv more tricks ? 

Paul. 'Tis enough, 1 thank you; 
But yet I'll buy him, for t!ie rareness of hiriB^ 
He may make my princely patient mirth, and thit 

done, 
I'll chain* him in my study, that at void hours 
I may run o'er the story oihis counti-y. 
Merch. His price is forty. 
Paul. Hold — I'll once be foolish. 
And buy a lump of levity to laugh at. 
Apoih. Will your wprship walk ? 
Paul. How now, apothecary. 
Have you been buying- too? 

Apoih. A little, sir, 
A (lose or two of mischief. 
Paul. Fare ye well, sir ; 
As these prove, we. shall look the next wind for 
you. 
Merch. I sliall be with you, sir, 
Paul. Who bought this fellow f 
in C<t. l\'ot ]. 
Apoth. N<ir 1. 

Patil. Why does he follow us, then? 
Merch. JJid not 1 tell you he would steal, to 

you >. 
2 Cit. Sirrah, 
You inoukly-chaps ! know your crib, I would w-^sh 

you. 
And get from whence vou came. 
Slare. 1 came from no place. 
Paul. Wilt tlioii be my fool! for fools, they say, 

/will lell truth. 
Slave. Yes, if you will give me leave, sir, to abuse 
you. 
For 1 can do that naturally. 
Paul. Aii-d 1 can beat you. 
Slave. I should be sorry else, sir. 
Merch. He looks for that, as duly as his victuals, 
And will be extreme sick when he is not beaten. 
He w-ill be as wainon, when he has a bone broken, 
As a cat in a bowl on the water. 
Paul. You will par' with him? 
Merch. 'Jo such a friend as you, sir. 
Paul, And without money? 
Merch. Not a jienny, signior ; 
And would he were better for you. 

Paul. Follow me, then ; 
The knave may teach me something. 

Slave. Something- that 
You dearly may repent , howe'er you scorn me, 
The slave m-.iy prove your master. 
Paul. Farewell once more ! 

Merch. harewell ! and when the w-i:id serves 
next, exfiect me. 

\_Excunt 

* I'll chain him inmp studi/,^ The old copy reads claim: 
the ameudmen '. by Mr. M. Musod. 



SCKNE II.] 



A VERY WOM\N. 



451 



SCENE U.—A Room in the Viceroy's Palace. 
Enter Cucui.o and Antonio. 

Cue. Come, sir, you are mine, sir, now, you 
serve a man, sir ; 
That, wlien you know more, you will find. 

Ant. I hope so. 

Cue. What dost thou hope? 

Ant. To find you a kind master. 

Cue. Find you yourself a diligent true servant. 
And take theprec'ejit of the wise before you, 
And then you may iiope, sirrah. Understand, 
You serve me* — ^^what is me? a man of credit. 

Ant. Yes, sir. 

Cue. Of special credit, spf^cial office; hear first 
And understand again, of special office: 
A man tliat nods upon the thing- he meets. 
And that thing bows. 

Ant. ' I'is fit it should be so, sir. 

Cue. It shall be so : a man near all importance. 
Dost thou digest this truly? 

Ayit. I hope I shall, sir. 

Cue. Besides, thou art to serve a noble mistress, 
Of equal place and trust. Serve usefully, 
Serve all wiili diligence, but her delights ; 
There make your stop. She is a wpman, sirrah. 
And though a cuU'd out virtue, yet a woman. 
Thou art not troubled with the strength of blood. 
And stirring faculties, for she'll show a fair one ? 

Ant. As I am a man, I may; but as I am your 
man. 
Your trusty, useful man, those thoughts shall 
perish. 

Cue. 'lis apt, and well distinguish'd. The nest 
precept. 
And then, observe me, you have alTyour duty ; 
Keep, as thon'dst keep thine eye-sight, all wine 

from her. 
All talk of wine. 

Ant. Wine is a comfort, sir. 

Ci:c. A devil, sir; let her not dream of wine. 
Make her believe there neither is, nor was wine ; 
Swear it. 

Ant, Will you have me lie ? 

Cue. I'o my end, ^ir ; 
For if one droj) of wine but creep into her. 
She is the wisest woman in the world straight, 
And all the women in the world together 
Are but a whisper to her ; a thousand iron mills 
Can he heard no further than a p;iir of nut-crackers : 
Keep her from wine ; wine makes her dangerous. 
Fall back : my lord d((n Pedro ! 
Ei.ier Pedro. 

Pedro. Now, master officer. 
What is the reason that vour vigilant greatness. 
And your wife's wonderful wiseness, have lock'd up 

IVcii me 
The wa , to see my mistress? Whose dog's dead now, 
'I'hat y(i\i observe these vigils? 

Cue. \'erv well, my lord. 
I'elike, we observe no law then, nor no order. 
Nor fe. I no power, nor will, of him that made them, 
When state-commands thus slightly are disputed. 

Pedro. \V hat state-command ? dost thou think any 
slate 
Wouhi give thee any thing but eggs to keep. 
Or trust thee with a secret above lousing ? 

• y^ou serve me — ] So tlie old copy, the modern editors 
omit the pronoun, which reduces the passage to nonsense. 



Cue. No, no, my lord, I am not passiona'.e. 
You cannot work me that way to betray iiie. 
A point there is in't, that you must not see, s;r, 
A secret and a serious point of state too; 
And do not urge it t'urilier, do not, lord. 
It will not take : you deal with tlum that wink not. 
You tried my wile ; alas ! you thought s! e was 

foolish. 
Won with an empty word ; you have not found it. 

Pedro. I have found apair of coxcoinhs, that 1 am 
sure on. 

Cue. Your lordship may say three : — 1 am not 
passionate. 

Prdro. How's that? 

Cue. \'our lordship found a faithful gentle-woman, 
Strong, and inscrutable as the viceroy's lieait, 
A woman of another making, lord : 
And, lest she might partake with woman's weakness 
I've purchased her a rib to make her perfect, 
A rib that will not shrink nor break in the bending ; 
This trouble we are j)ut to, to prevent things 
Which your good lordship holds but necessary. 

Pedro. A fellow of a handsome and free promise. 
And much, methinks, ] am taken wjth his counte- 
nance. — 
Do you serve this yeoman-porter ? [To Antonio. 

Cue. Not a word. 
Basta ! your lordship may discourse your freedom ; 
He is a slave of state, sir, so of silence. 

Pedro. You are very punctual, state-cut, fare ye 
well ; 
I shall find time to fit you too, I fear not. [ Exit 

Cue. And I shall fit you, lord : you would be 
billing ; 
You are too hot, sweet lord, too hot, Go you home. 
And there observe these lessons I fir.-t taught you^ 
Look to your charge abundantly ; be wary. 
Trusty and wary ; much weight hangs upon me. 
Watchful and wary too ! this lord is dangerous 
Take courage and resist : lor other uses. 
Your mistress will inform you. Go, be faithful, 
And, do you hear? no wine. 

Ant. 1 shall observe, sir. [Eieunl. 



SCENE III. — Another Room in the same. 
Enter Paulo and Surgeons. 

Paul. He must take air. 

1 Surg. Sir, under your correction. 
The violence of motion may make 
His wounds bleed fresh. 

2 Surg. And he haih lost already 
Too much blood, in my judgment. 

Paul. I allow that ; 
But to choke up his spirits in a daik room 
Is far more dangerous. He comes ; no questions. 

Enter Cahdenes. 

Car. Certain we have no reason, nor that soul 
Created of that pureness Dooks persuade ns : 
We understand not, sure, nor feel that sweetness 
That men call virtue's chain to link our actions. 
Our imperfections form, and flatter us ; 
A will to rash and rude things is our reason. 
And that we glory in, that makes us guilty. 
Why did I wrong this man, unmanly wrong him. 
Unmannerly ? he gave me no occasion. 
In all my heat how noble was his temper ! 
And, when I Lad forgot both man and manhood. 



452 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act III. 



Willi wliiit ii iTHiitle bravery did he chide nie ! 
And, siiy lie Ir.id killd me, whither liud I traveil'd? 
KillM me 111 all my rsige — oh, iiow it slmke.s me! 
VVIiy didst iliou do this, foDl? a woin;iii lauglit me. 
Tile devil iiiul his angel, woman, bad me. 
I am a beast, the wildest of all beasts, 
And like a bea.-t I make my blood my master. 
Farewell, I'arewell, f'oiever, name of mistress ! 
Out of my heart 1 cross thee ; love and women 
Out of my tlioughts. 

Paul. A\, now you show your manhood. 

Car. Doctor, believe me, 1 have bought my 
knowledge. 
And dearly, doctor: thiy are dangerous crea- 
tures, 
Thev sting- at both ends, doctor ; worthless creatures, 
And all their loves and favours end in ruins. 

Paul. To man indeed. 

Cur. Wliv, now thou tak'st me riglnly. 
What can they s ow, or by what act deserve us, 
Wliile we have V^irtue, and pursue lier beauties] 

Paul. And yet I've heard of many virtuous 
women. 

Car. Koi many, doctor, there your reading fails 
you ; 
Would there were more, and in their loves less 
dangers ! 

Paul. Love is a noble thing without all doubt, sir, 

Car. Ve.--, and an excellent — to cure the itcii. 

[Exil. 

1 Surg. Strange melancholy ! 
Paul. IVy degiees 'twilUessen : 

Provide your things. 

2 Surg. Our caru shall not be wanting. 

[Exeuni. 



SCENE IV. — A Room in Cuculo's House. 

Fouler Leonora and Aljiiiia. 

Leon. Good madam, for your health's sake clear 
those clouds up. 
That {tted upon your beauties like diseases. 
'J'iine's band will turn again, and what he ruins 
Gently restore, and wipe oft' all y. ur sorrows. 
Believe you are to blame, much to blame, lady ; 
You tempt his loving care whose eye has nuniber'd 
All our affliciioiis, and the time to cure tiiem : 
You rather with this torrent clioak his mercies, 
Than gently .slide into bis providence. 
Sorrows are well allow'd, and svveeien nature, 
Where tiiey expre.-s no more than drop.- on lilies ; 
But, when they tall in storms, they bruise our hopes, 
Make us unable, thougii our comlorts meet us, 
To hold our heads up : Come, you shall lake com- 
fort ; 
This is a sullen grief becomes condeiimed men. 
That feel a weight of sorrow through their souls : 
Do but look up. Why, so ! — is not this belter 
Than hanging down your head still like a violet. 
And dropping out those sweet eyes for a wager ! 
Pray you, speak a little. 

Aim. Pray >ou, desire no more ; 
And, if you love me, say no more. 

Leon. How fain, 
Jf 1 wo..ld be as wilful, and partake in't, 
Would you ilestroy yourself! liow often, lady, 
Eweu ot lue same disease have you cured me, 



And shook me out on't ; chid me, tumbled me, 
And forced my hands, llius? 

Aim. By tliese tears, no more. 

Lam. You are too prodigal of them. Well, I will 
not. 
For though my love bids me transgiessyour will, 
I have a service to your sorrows still. lExeunt 



SCENE v.— ^ Hall in the same. 
Enter Pedro uini Antunio. 

Ant. Indeed, my lord, my place i> not so near: 
I wait below stairs, and there sit, and wait 
Who comes to seek accesses ; nor is it tit, sir*. 
My rudeness should intrude so near their lodgings. 

Pedro. 'I'hou inayst invent a way, 'tis but a trial. 
But carrying up this letter, and ibis token, 
.And giving tiiem discreetly to my misirfss. 
The Lady Leonora : there's my purse. 
Or anything tliou'lt ask me ; ii iliou knew'at me, 
And what may 1 be to thee lor tins courtesy 

Ant. Your lord.■^hlp speaks so honestly, ;uid freely, 
That by my troth I'll venture, 

Pedro. I dearly_ thank thee. 

Ant. And it shall cost me hard ; nay, keep your 
purse, sir. 
For, though my body's bought, my mind was 

never. 
Though I am bound; my courtesies are no slaves. 

Pedro. Thou siiouldst he truly gentle. 

Ant. If 1 were So, 
The state I am in bids you not believe it. 
But to the puipose, sir; give ine your letter 
And next your counsel, lor 1 oerve a i ratty mistress. 

Pedro. And she must be removed, thou wilt else 
ne'er do it. 

Ant. Ay, there's the plague: think, and I'll think 
awhiie too. 

Pedro. Her husband's suddenly fallen sick. 

Ant. She cares not ; 
If he were dead, indeed, it would do better. 

Pedro. Would he were hanged ! 

Ant. Then she would run lor joy, sirf. 

Pedro. Some lady crying out ' 

Ant. She has two already. 

Pedro. Her house aiiie. 

Ant. Let the lool my hushund, quench it. 
'Ihis will be btr answer. — J nis may take: it will, 

sure. 
Your lordshij) must go j resent ly, and send me 
Two or three bottles of your best Greek wine, 
I he strongest and the sweetest. 



• Nor is it tit, .sir,] Fi", which re- 

ftdies the pa^»a^t: tu sense, 1 h.tve iiifeited fiurii (he old 
c.py. 

t Ant. 'J'hen she would run fur jny. sir.] Coxeter, and 
cttuurse, Mr. iVi. Alrt.si.ii, read, 

Then she would run mad fur jnii, sir. 
This intei polrtU..ii uhicli (kslr.iy.- ilie metre, seems to have 
orij^iiialeil in a nils .pprelieiision nf tiie |>rt.-^ayc. 'I'lic object 
is lugel Bi.iachi.i inn .if ihe way, ..nil tlif c.vpi clients which 
sU(;gcst theinstlxes are meiitioniil in iniicr: 

I'edro. // oulil he iiere hang'd ! 

Ant. Then .she would run for joy, Hir. 
i.e. this mi-ht ilu, foi then iiie wimiI I leive lior chaic;e, and 
joyt'iilly rini lo witi.ess hU eXetu;iua. Sncli, I CDiiieive to 
be the iiuipnit iit' Aiiliinios ob.-tr- ation : inr ihe ri»l, I must 
obsei ve, Ihal the whole of this scene is n o-l slanieliilly given 
in Ihemudtrn iditiDns, sdrctl) a biiiijle speech beinij without 
au errur or an omission. 



Scene V.] 



A VERY WOIMAN. 



45il 



Pedro. Instantly: 
But will tlr.it do? 

A7il. Let me alone to work it. [Exit Pedro. 

Wine I was charged to keep by all means from her; 
All secret locks it opens, and all counsels, 
That J am sure, and gives men all accesses. 
Pray heaven she be not loving- when she's (Trunk 

now, 
For drunk slie shall be, though my pate pay for it ! 
She'll turn my stomach then abominably. 
She has a most wicked face, and that lewd face 
Being a drunken face, what face will there be ! 
She cannot ravish me. JVow, if my master 
Should take her so, and know 1 ministered, 
What will his wisdom do ? I hojie be drunk too, 
And then all's right. Well, lord, to do thee service 

Above these puppet-jjlays, I keep a life yet 

Here come the executioners. 

Enter Servant u:iih bottles. 

You are welcome. 

Give me your load, and tell my lord I am at it. 
Serv. 1 will, sir ; speed you, sir. [Exit. 

Ant. Good speed on all sides! 

'Tis strong, strong wine ; 0,the yaws tliat she will 
make !* 

Look to your stern, dear mistress, and steer right. 

Here's ili;it will work as high as the Bay of Por- 
tugal. 

Stay, let me see — I'll try her by the nose first ; 

For, if she be a right sow, sure she'll find it. 

She is yonder by herself, the ladies from her. 

Now to ijegin my s;icriticet : — [poitrs out some of the 
wine.] — she stirs, and vents it. 

O, how she holds her nose up like a jennet 

In the wind of a grass-mare ! she has it full now, 

And now she comes. 

Enter BonAcniA. 

I'll stand aside awhile. 

Bora. 'Tis wine! ay, sure 'tis wine I excellent 

strong wine I 

In the must, 1 take it : very wine : this way too. 

Ant. How true she hunts ! I'll make the train a 

little longer. [Pours ont more wine. 

Bora. Stronger and stronger still ! still ! blessed 

wine 1 
Ant. Now she hunts hot. 
Btna, All ihiit I can for this wine. 
This way it went, sure. 

Ant. Now she is at a cold scent. 
Make out your dpubles, mistress. O, well hunted ! 
That's she I that's she ! 

Bora. O, if I could but see it ! 
(Oh what a precious scent it has !) but handle it ! 
Ant. JSiow I'll untappice. [Comes forward. 



• 'Tis strong, strong wine: O, the yaws that she will 
nake.'l Tlie (ild cupy reads, 

O the yaims that she will make, 
and was followe<l b> Coxtler. Mr. M. Mason, attentive to 
tlie f pcIUiii; of iiis anthor, but careless of his sense, corrected 
it tot/awns; Ihough to make yawns appears an expression 
sufficiently singular tn excite a doubt of its autlienticity : 
and tlins it lias hitherto stood! The gennine word, as is 
cloar from the context, is undonbtedly Ihat which I have 
given. A yaw is Ihat unsteady motion which a ship makes 
in a great swell, when, in steering, jhe inclines to the rii;ht 
or left of her course. The sea runs proverbially high in the 
Bay of Portugal. 

f Now to begin my sacrifice : — 1 This is imitated, but 
with exquisite iiuniour, from a very amusing scene in 'fhc 
Curctt^iL-of i'lautus. „^ 



Bora. What's that? still 'tis stronger. 
Why. liow now, sirrah! what's that? answer 

(jtiic klv, 
And to the point. 

Ant. 'Tis wine, forsootli, good wine. 
Excellent Candy wine. 

Boia 'Tis well, forsooth ! 
Is this a drink for slaves ? wliy, saucy sirrah 
(K.xcellent Candy wine !), draw nearer to nie, 
Beach me the bottle: wliy, thou most debauch'd 
sliive — 

Ant. I'ray be not angry, mistress, for with all my 
service 
And pains, I purchased this for you (I dare not 

drink it). 
For you a present ; only for your pleasure ; 
'i'o show ill little what a thanks I owe 
'1 he hourly courtesies your goodness gives me. 

Bvra. And I will give thee more ; there, kiss my 
hand on't. 

Ant. I thank you dearly — for your dirty favour 
How rank it smells ! 

Bora. Hy ihv leave, sweet bottl.e, 
And siigar-catidy wine, I now come to thee. 
Hold your hand under. 

Ant. How does vour worship like it? 

Bnra. Under again — again — and now come kiss 
me ; 
I'll be a mother to thee : come, drink to me. 

Aiil. I do heseerh j'our pardon. 

Bora. Here's to thee, then, 
I am easily entreated for thy good ; 
'lis naught lor thee, indeed ; 'twill make thee break 

out ; 
Thr u hast a pure complexion ; now, for. me 
'lis excellf lit, 'tis excellent for me. 
Son slavi-, I've a cold stomach, and the wind — 

A lit. Blows out a cry at both ends. 

Bora. Kiss again ; 
Cherish thv lips, for thou shall kiss fair ladies: 
Son slave. 1 have them for thee ; I'll show ihee alL 

Ant. Heaven bless mine eyes ! 

Bora, h ven all the secrets, son slave. 
In my dominion. 

Ant. Oh ! here come the ladies; 
Now to my business. 

Enter Leonora and Almira behind. 
Leon, 'i'hii air will much refresh you. 
A!m. 1 must sit doiAU. 
Leon. Ijo, and take freer thoughts. 
The j-hice mvites you ; I'll walk by like your sen- 
tinel. 
Bora. And thou shalt be my heir, I'll leave thee 
all. 
Heavfin knows to what 'twill mount to* ; but abun- 
dance : 



* Heaven, knows to what 'twill mount to ;] Of this mode 
of speech innumerable instances liave alieady occnned; yet 
it is corrupiid by Mr. M. Mason, with his usual oscitanoy, 
into 

Heaven knows what 'twill amount to ! 
But this geiilleman does not appear to have pr. tiled greatly 
b> his " reading of our old poets:" twenty years after he 
had edi ed Mas.-in!;er, he stumbled upon Beaumont and 
i'letcher, where he found this line: 

'• And through what seas of hazard I sail'd through." 
Humorous Lieutenant. 

Through, {\k editors, perfectly ignorant of the jjhraseology 
of the author's times, absurdly cliangid to lou, nccanse, tor- 
suoth, " such disagreeable tautology was more likely topro> 



4A4 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act III 



I'll leave tliee two young ladies, what tliiiik you of 

that, boy ! — 
Where is the bottle ? — two delicate young ladies ; 
But lirst you shall commit with me : do you mark, 

son, 
And show yourself a genneman, that's the truth, son, 

A lit. Excellent lady, kissing your fair hand, 
And liiinibiv craving pardon for intruding, 
This letter, and this ring 

Leon. From whom, I pray you, sir? 

.int. From the most noble, loving lord, don 
Pedro, 
Tiie servant of your virtues. 

Bora. And jjrithee, good son slave, be wise and 
circiiiTispect ; 
And take heed of being o'ertaken with too much 

drink ; 
For it is a lamentable sin, and spoils all : 
Why, 'tis the damnablest thing to be drunk, son ! 
Heaven can't endure it. And hark you, one thing 

I'd have done : 
Kn0( k my husband on the head, as soon as may be, 

For he is an arrant puppy, and cannot perform 

Why, where 'he devil is this foolish bottle ? 

Leon. I much thank you ; 
And this, sir, for your pains. 

Ant. No, gentle lady ; 
'J'hat 1 can do him service is my merit. 
My fnitli, my full reward. 

Lenii. Once more, 1 thank you. 
Since I have met so true a friend to goodness, 
1 dare deliver to your charge my answer: 
Pray vni, tell him, sir, this night I do invite him 
To meet me in the garden ; means he may find. 
For love, they say, wants no abilities. 

Ant. Nor shall he, madam, if my help may pro- 
sper ; 
So everlasting love and sweetness bless you ! — 
She's at it still, 1 dare not now appear to her. 

Aim. What fellow's that ? 

Leon. Indeed, I know not, madam ; 
It seems of some strange country by his habit; 
Nor can 1 show- you by what mystery 
He wrought himself into this place, prohibited. 

Aim. A handsome man. 

Leon. But of a mind more handsome. 

Aim. Was his business to you'! 

Leon. Yes, from a friend you wot of. 

Aim. A very handsome fellow 

And well demean'd 1 

Leon. Exceeding well, and speaks well. 

Aim. And speaks well, too! 

Leon. Aye, passing well, and freely. 
And, as he promises, of a most clear nature. 
Brought up, sure, far above his show. 

Aim. It seems so : 
I would I'd heard him, friend. Comes he again ? 



eeed from the press llian the author." Upon which Mr. M. 
Mason says, " [ agree with them in thinking the old reading 
«rrfl«eoMs, but not in thtir ainvnrinieut. The line should run 
til lis: 

" And through what seas of hazard I sail'd thorough] 
Which avoids the repetition of the word lliionnh." Com- 
mints on Beaumont and Fletcher, p. 104. When it is con- 
ridered Uiat the repetition so sedulously removed, was as 
anxiously »ouglit after by our old writers, and was, indeed, 
fharacteiistic of llieir style and manner, ue may, perhaps, 
be induljjed in forming a wisli that those who undertake to 
revive and explain tUein, were somewhat moie compeieiitto 
the oltice. A good edition of these excellent aramatists i> 
much wanted. 



Leon. Indeed I know not if he do. 
Aim. 'lis no matter. 
Come, let's walk in. 

Leon. I am glad you have found your tongue yet. 
[Exeunt Leonora and Almira. 

BoRACiiiA sings. 

Cue. \wiihin.^ ISIy wife is very merry ; sure 'twas 
her voice : 
Pray heaven there be no drink in't, then I allow iL 
Ant. 'Tis sure my master: 

Enter Cucuto 

Now the game begins ; 
Here will be spitting of fite o'both sides presently ; 
Send me but safe deliver'd ! 
Cue, O, my heart aches ! 
My head aches too : mercy o'me, she's perish 'd ! 
She has gotten wine ! she is gone for ever. 
Bora. Come hither, ladies, carry your bodies 
sw-mmiiig ; 
Do your three duties, then — then fall behind me. 
Cue. O, thou pernicious rascal ! what hast thoti 

done? 
Ant. 1 done ! alas, sir, I have done nothing. 
Cite. Sirrah, 
How came s!ie by this wine ? 
Ant. Alas, I know not. 
Bora, Who's that, that talks of wine there! 
Ant. Forsooth, rny master. 
Bora. Bring him before me, son slave. 
Cue. I will know it, 
This bottle, how this bottle ? 

Bora, Do not stir it ; 
For, if you do, by this good wine, I'll knock you, 
I'll beat you darunably, yea and nay, I'll beat you ; 
Aud, when I have broke it 'bout your head, do you 

mark me? 
Then will 1 tie it to your worship's tail, 
And all the dogs in the town shall follow you. 
No question, 1 would advise you, how I came by it, 
I will have none of these points handled now. 
Cue. Slie'll ne'er he well again while the world 

stands. 
Ant. I hope so. 
Cue. How dost thou, lamb? 

Bora. Well, God-a-mercy, belwether ; how dost 
thou ? 
Stand out : son slave, sit you here, and before this 

worshipful audience 
Propound a doubtful question ; see who's drunk 
now. 
Cue. Now, now it works ; the devil now dwells 

in her. 
Bora. Whether the heaven or the earth be nearer 
the moon ? 
Or what's the natural reason, why a woman longs 
To make her husband cuckold ? bring me your 

cousin 
The curate now, that great philosopher. 
He that found out a pudding had two ends, 
That learned clerk, tliat notable gymnosophist: 
And let him with his Jacob's-staff discover 
What is the third part of three farthings. 
Three halfpence being the half, and 1 am satisfied. 
Cue. You see she hath learning enough, if she 

could dispose it. 
Bora. Too much for thee, thou loggerhead, thou 

bull-head I 
Cue. Nay, good Borachia. 



Scene IT.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



4.';5 



Bora. TIiou ii sufficient statesman ! 
A (gentleman of leurnino; ! liaiif; thee, dogwhelp ; 
J'hou shulow of a man of action, 
Thou scab o'th' court! go hleep, you drunken 

rascal, 
You debauched puppy ; get you home, and sleep, 

sirrah ; 
ind so 'vill f : son slave, thou slialt sleep with me. 
Cue. Prithee, look to her tenderly. 



Bora. No words, sirrah. 
Of any wine, or anytliinjj- like wine, 
Or any thing concerning wine, or by wine, 
Or from, or witli wine*. Come, lead me like a 
countess. 
Cur. Tins must we bear, jioor men! there h a 
trick in't. 
But, when she is well again, I'll trick her for it. 

[Exeun 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — A Room ire /fte Viceroy's Palace. 
Enter Pedro. 

Pedro. Now, if this honest fellow do but pros- 
per, 
\ nope 1 shall make fair return. I wonder 
1 hear not from the prince of Tarent yet, 
I hope lie's landed well, and to his safety : 
The winds have stood most gently to his purpose. \ 

Enter Antonio. 
Mv honest friend ! 

Ant. Your lordship's poorest servant. 

Pedro. How hast thou sped ? 

Atit. Mv lord, as well as wishesf 
My way hath reach "d your mistress, and deliver'd 
Your love letter, and token ; who, with all joy. 
And virtuous constancy, desiies to see you : 
Commands yow 'his ni-^ht, by her loving power, 
To meet her in the garden. 

Pedro. Thou hast made me, 
Redeem'd me, man, again from all my sorrows ; 
Done above wonder for me. Is it so? 

Ant. 1 should be now too old to learn to lie, sir. 
And, as I live, I never was good flatterer^. 

Pedro. 1 do see something ia this fellow's face 
still, 
That ties my heart fast to him. Let me love thee. 
Nay, let me honour thee for this fair service. 
And if I e'er forget it 

Ant. Good my lord. 
The only knowledge of me is too much bounty: 
My service, and my life, sir. 

• or by wine. 

Or from, or with wine, &c.] More trails of Boracliia's 
" learnin;: !" she is running through the signs of the ablative 
case. 

t Ant. My lord, as well as wishes :] i. e. as well as you 
conid wish; or, a< well as if your wishes had been etiectual: 
It is a colloquial plirase, and is found in many of our oI<l 
dramatists. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher: 

" Dor. Shall we run for a wager to the next temple, and 
give thanks l 

" Nis. As/ast as wishes. Cupid's Revenge. 

And auain ; more appositely in the same play : 

" Timan. There's a messenger, madam, come from the 
prime, with a letter to Isnienes." 

" Jiarha. This comes as pat as wishes." 

t And, as J live, 1 never ivas yond flatterer.] This is the 
lan,;uage oj' the time : the modern editors carefully interpo- 
late the article before good, thoufjh it spoils the metre : and 
in the next line omit Mtill, though it be necessary to the 
kenee I 



Pedro. I shall think on't; 
But how for me to get access? 

Ant. 'I'is easy ; 
I'll be your guide, sir, all my care sball lead yon; 
My credit's better than you think. 

Pedro. I thank you. 
And soon I'll wait your promise. 

AiU. With all my duty. [Erwtnt. 



SCENE II. — A Bedroom in the same. 
Enter ViCEnov, Duke, Paulo, and Cuculo.s 
Paulo. All's as 1 tell you, princes ; you shall bera 
Be witness to his fancies, melancholy. 
And strong imagination of his wrongs 
His inhumanity to Don Antonio, 
Hath rent his mind into so many pieces 
Of various imaginations, that, 
Like the celestial bovv, this colour now's 
The object, then another, till all vanish. 
He says a man might watch to death, or fast. 
Or think his spirit out; to all which humours 
1 do ajiply myself, checking the bad. 
And cherishing the good. For these, I have 
Prepared niy instruments, fitting his chamber 
With trapdoors, and descents ; sometimes presenting 
Good spirits of the air, bad of the earth, 
'i'o pull down or advance his fair intentions. 
He's of a noble nature, yet sometimes 
Thinks that which by confederacy I do. 
Is by some skill in magic. 

Enter Cahdenes, a book in his hand*. 

Here he comes 
Unsent. I do beseech you, what do you read, sirl 
Cur. A strange position, which doth much per- 
plex me : 
That every soul's alike a musical instrument. 



+ £nter Cardenes, a book m his hand ] The bonk ap 
pear* to be Hato. 'Ilie marginal d.nction in th^- old Copyt 
which is wis'jly followed by Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason, 
i-i somewhat curious: .4 bed drawn forth. Martinowpo^z it, 
a book in his hand; this m'isi have contiasled in a singnlHr 
manner with the doctor's excl.imalion : Here he comes «/». 
sent.' The poorest sliollimr companv in the poorest l>^rO 
would not now be reduced to snrh shifts, as " those of bil 
Majesty's servants" who performed this mo«t excelleol 
Comedy a' tlie private-house in Bl'ackfriurs. 



iS6 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act IV 



The faculties in all men rqiiiil strings. 

Well or ill bandied ; and those sweet or liarsli. 

[Eiil Paulo. 
How like a fiddler I liave play'd on mine llien ! 
Declint'd the lii'j;li pitch of niv birth iind breedirifr, 
Like ihe most barbarous peasant ; read my pnde 
Upon Antonio's meek hiimility, 
Wlieiein lie was far valiiintpr than I. 
Meekness, ihou wait'st u])oii ci)iiiat;eous spirits, 
Kniibliiig suft'erance past iiiHiclioiis. 
In p;itience 'I'arent oveicair.e me more 
Than in mv wounds ; live tl)en, no more to men, 
Shut dav-light from thine eyes, liero ciist thee down, 
And with a sullen sigh breathe forth tny soul — 

Re-enter Paulo, disguised as a Friar. 

What art 1 an apparition, or a mail ? 

Paul. A man, and sent to counsel thee. 

Ca'-. Despair 
Has stopped mine eais ; thou seem'st a holy friar. 

Paul. 1 am ; bv doctor Paulo sent, to tell thee 
Thou art too cruel to thyself, in seeking 
To lend compassion and aid to others.. 
My order bids me cotnfort thee ; 1 have heard all 
Tliy various troubled passions. Hear but my story; 
In way of youih I did enjoy one friend*, 
As good and perfect as heaven e'er made man , 
I Iiis friend was plighted to a beauteous woman 
(Nature proud of iier workmanship), mutual love 
Possessed them bjth, her heart in his breast lodged, 
And his in hers. 



• In way of youth / did enjny rnie frimd.] There is no 
passage ill ShaK:'peare on wliicii more has been written than 
f\iv. foHowiiit; on-e in Macbeth: 

■' I hue livid long eiiouwh, my way of life 
" Is fallen into llie seic, the )tll()w leat'," &c. 
Por way of life Johnson would read May of life; in which 
he is tollo vid' hy Culman, Lant;ton, Steevens, :md oiliers : 
and Mr. Henley, a very f onliilent uenlleman, ('eclares lliat he 
*• has no.v no (lonbt that Shakspcare wrote May of liff," 
whicli i- also Ihe " settled opinion" of Mr. Davies! At a 
siib^eqnent period Sieevens appears to have cliaii»ed his opi- 
nion, aii<l ai-qiiitsced in ihe old reading, way of life, wliiih 
he interpreis, with Mr. M. Ma^on, co«r-e or pro!;ress, pre- 
cisely a^ Warbmton, whom e\ety mounifig oivl hawks a^, had 
ilone long before them. i\ r. Malone follows the same track, 
an'l ifti e words had signified what he siippoM-d them to do, 
nothing more would be necessary on the subject. The tact, 
however, is, that tlie.se iiif^enions writers have misiamn ihe 
phrase, which is neither more nor less than a simple peri- 
plir.isis for life: at way of youth, in the le.vl, is lor youth. 
A few c\ample3 will make this clear: 

" It that, when I was mistress of myself, 

And ill my van of youth, pure and untainted, 
Theeinpero: had vouchsafe I," &c. lioman Actor. 
.e. in my yoiit!i. 
" .So much noller 

Shall be your way of justice." Thierry and Thcodoret. 
i. e. your justiee. 

" Thus read ' for the way of death or life, 

I wait the's' arpest blow." Pericles. 

e. for death or lite. 
" If all the art 1 have, or power can do it. 
He sli.dl be found, and such a way of justice 
IiiHictcd on him !" Queen of Corinth. 

i. e snchjusiice. " Probably," say the editors, "weshould 
read weight of justice ; way is very flat !" 
" If we can wipe out 
The way of your offences, we are yours, sir." 

Valentininn. 
I. e. your offence,'.. " To wipe out the way," the same edi- 
tors again leniark, " seems a strange phrase; stain, we ap- 
prehend, will be allowed a better word : yet we sli .uld not 
hijve substituted it" (tiiey actually foist it into the Uxt), 
•♦ had we not been persuaded that the ol I re.iding was cor- 
mpt !" And thus our best po is are edited 1 

It is unnecessary to proceed any further: indeed I should 
tuvc been satistied with fewer examples, had not my respect 



Car. No more of love, good father, 
It was my sur eif, and I hiath it now. 
As men in fevers meat ihev fell sick on. 

Paul. Howe'f'r, 'tis worth your hearing. Thia 
betroih'd lady 
(The ties and duties of a friend forgotten >, 
Spurr'd on by Inst, I treacherously pursued ; 
Conteini'd by her. and by my friend reproved. 
Despised hy honest men, my conscience seated up, 
Love I converted into frantic rage ; 
And hv ihiit false guide led, 1 summoned him 
In this bad i aiise, his sword 'gainst mine, to prove 
If h(> or I mii-ht claim most right in love. 
But fortune, that does sekl or never give 
Success torij;ht and virtue, m;idehim fall 
Under my sword. lilood, blood, a friend's dear 

blood, 
A virtuous friend's, shed by a villain, me. 
In such a monstrous and unequal cause. 
Lies on niv conscience. 

Car. And durst thou live. 
After this, to be so old ? 'tis an illusion 
Raised up by charms: a man would not have lived. 
Art quiet in thy bo3)ni ! 

Paul. As the sleep 
Of infants. 

Car. My fault did not equal this; 
Yet I have emptied my heart of joy, 
_. Only to store sighs up. What were the arts 
* That made thee live so long in rest? 

Paul. He])eniance 
Hearty, tiiat cleansed me ; reason then confirmed 

me 
I was forgiven, and took me to my beads. [E«l. 

Car. I am in the wrong path ; tender con- 
science 
INIakes me forget mine honour ; I have done 
No evil like tliis, yet 1 jiine ; whilst he, 
A few tears of his true contrition tendered. 
Securely sleeps. Ha! where keeps peace of COH- 

science. 
That I may buy her ? — no where ; not in life. 
'Tis feign ■(! that .Ju(iiter two vessels placed, 
'J he one with honn-y tilled, tlie other gall. 
At theent:v of Olympus; destiny, 
There brewing these toj;ether, suffers not 
One man to pass, before he dtinks this mixture. 
Hence is it we have not an hour of life 
In which our pleasures relish not some pain, 
Our sours some sweetness. Love doth taste of both ; 
Revenge, that thirsty dropsy of our souls, 
Whii h makes us covet that which hurts us most. 
Is not alone .sweet, but partakes of tartness. 

Duke. Is't not a strange effect? 

Vice Past precedent. 

Cue. His braiu-pan's perished with his wounds • 
go to, 
I knew 'twould come to this. 

Vice. Peace, man of wisdom. 

Cue. Pleasure's the hook of evil ; ease of care, 



for Shakspeare made me desirous of disencumbering his page, 
by ascertaining, beyond the possibility of cavil, the meaning 
of an expicssion so long and so laboriously agitated. To re- 
turn to Macbeth: the sere and yellow leaf is the commence- 
ment of the winter of life, or of old age; to this he has 
attained, and he laments, in a strain of inimitable pathos and 
beanly, that it is imaccompanied by those blessings which 
lender it supportable. As his manhood was wilhouc virtue, 
so he has now before him the certain prospect of an old age 
without honour. 



BCBKB II.] 



A VERY WOMAV. 



457 



And so the K<"ieral object of the court ; 
Yet some di^liiihts are lavvriil. UonouT is 
Virtue's allowVl ascent ; honour, iJiat clasps 
All-perfect justice in her arms, that caves 
No more respect tlian what she gives, that does 
Nothino- but what she'll suffer —This distracts me. 
But I have found the right : liad Don Antonio 
Dont- lliat to me, I did to him, 1 should have kill'd 

him ; 
The injury so foul, and done in public. 
My footman would not bear it ; tlien in honour 
Wronged him so, I'll rigiit hirn on myself: 
There's honour, justice, and full satislaciion 
Equally tender'd ; 'tis resolved, I'll do it. 

[They disarm him, 
Thev take all weapons from me. 
Duke. Bless my son ! 

lie-enter Paulo, tlressed like a SoLlier, and t/ie English 
Slave like a Courtier. 

Vice. 'l"he careful doctor's come again. 

Duke, liare man ! 
How shall 1 pay this debt ? 

Cue. He that is with him, 
Is one o' tfie slaves he latelv bought, he said, 
To accommodate his cure: he's J\nglisli horn, 
But FreiK-h in his behavour ; a delicate slave. 

Vice The slave is very tine. 

Cue. Your English slaves 
Are ever so ; 1 have seen an English slave 
Far finer than his master: iheie's a state-point 
Worthy your observation. 

Paul. Oil lliy life, 
Be perfect in thy lesson : fewer legs, slave. 

Car. JNly thoughts are seart-h'd and answer'd ; 
for 1 did 
Desire a soldier and a courtier. 
To yield nie satisfaction in some doubts 
Not yet toncluded of. 

Paul. Your doctor did 
Admit us, sir. 

SLire. And we are at your service ; 
Whaie'er it be, command it. 

Car. You appear 
A courtier in the race of Love ; how far 
In honour are you bound to run ! 

Slave. I'll tell you. 
You must not spare expense, but wear gay clotbes, 
And you maybe, too, prodigal of oaths, 
'I'o win a mistress' favour ; not afraid 
To pass unto her t'irougli her chambermaid. 
You may present her gifts, and of all sorts, 
Feast, dance, and revel ; they are law lul sports : 
'J'he choice of suitors you must not deny her. 
Nor (jiiariel, though }ou find a rival by her: 
Build on your own deserts, and ever be 
A stranger to love's enemy, jealousy. 
For that draws on 

Car. No more ; this points at me ; 

[fJ.u'f EiigUsih Slave. 
I ne'er ob.erved these rules. Now speak, old 

soldier. 
The height of Honour? 

Paul. No man to offend. 
Ne'er to reveal the secrets of a friend ; 
Rather to suiier than to do wrong ; 
'I'o make the heart no stranger to the tongue; 
Provoked, not to betray an enemy. 
Nor eat Lis meat 1 choke with flattery; 
Blushless to tell wherefore I wear my scars 



Or for my conscience, or my country's wars ; 
'i'o aim at ju.-t things ; if we have wildly run 
Into offences, wi^h them all undone; 
' lis poor, in grief for a wrong done, to die. 
Honour, to dare to live, and satisfy. 

V^ice. Mark, how he wind* him. 

Duke I- X eel lent man! 

I'aul. Who fights 
With passions, and o'ercomes them, is endued 
With the best virtue, passive fortitude. [Exit 

Car. Thou hast toucli'd lue, soldier ; oh ! this 
honour bears 
'['he right stamp ; would all soldiers did profess 
Thy good religion ! The discords of my soul 
Are tuned, and make a heavenly harmony : 
What sweet ()eace feel 1 now ! 1 aiuravi=h'd with it. 

Vice. How still he sits ! [Music. 

Cue. Haik ! music. 

Duke. How divinely 
I'his artist gathers scatter'd sense ; with cunning 
Composing ihe fair jewel* of bia mind. 
Broken in pieces, and nigh lost before ! 

lie-enter Paui.o, dressed like a Philosopher, acrom- 
pauied hu a good and evil Genius, who sing a song ia 
alternate stanzas : during the performance of which 
Paulo goes off, and returns iu his own shape. 

Vice. See Protean Paulo in another shape. 

Paul. Away, I'll bring- him shortly perfect, doubt 
not. 

Duke. Master of ihy great art! 

Vice. As such we'll hold thee. 

Duke, And study honours for him. 

Cue. I'll be sick 
On purpose to take physic of this doctor. 

^Eieunt all hut Cardenes and Paulo. 

Car. Doctor, thou hast jierfected a body's cure. 
To amaze the world, and almost cured a mind 
Near frenzy. With delight 1 now perceive, 
You, for mv recreaMoii, have invented 
'J'he several objects, which my melancholy 
Sometimes did think you conjured, otherwhiles 
Imagined them chimreras. You have been 
ISJy friar, soldier, jjliilosopher. 
My poet, architect, physician ; 
Labour'd for me more than your slaves for you 
In their assistance : in vour moral songt 
Of my good genius, and my had, you have won me 
A cheerful heart, and banish'd discontent; 
'i'here being nothing wanting io my wishes, 
But once more, were it possible, to behold 
Don John Antonio. 

Paul. Theie shall be letters sent 
Into all parts of Christendom, to inform him 
Of your recovery, which now, sir, 1 doubt not. 

Car. What honours, what rewards can I heaji on 
you ! 

Paul. 'I'hat my endeavours have so well suc- 
ceeded. 
Is a sufficient recompense. Pray you retire, sir. 
Not loo much air so soon. 

Cur. 1 am obedient. [Exeunt. 

* Composing the fair jewel of his mind, &c. By jewel 
our <ilil writcis me.uu, as 1 li.ivu alitady obs.rved, mit so 
iniicli a sing e i.reti.ms si. me, as a trinket loiiiied of sevtiaJ, 
or wlial we c.ill a piece ol' je.\el w^rk 

+ 1 jn yniir moral song 

Of m-i good genius, a7id irui bad. i<.c.' 'I'lus song is not 
yiven ; I <lci iiui know il.,i ii i.-. uiiicli lo be legieiled, aqJ 
jet It pronii.-es beiler llian many vf lUose wilh wLicti WC 
Lave been lavouied 



458 



A VERY WOMAN. 



f Act IV 



SCENE Ul.—A Room in Cuculo's House. 
Enter ALJiinA and Leonora, 

Leon. How strangely 
• TLis fellow runs in lier mind ! 

Aim. Do you hear, cousin ? 

Leon. Her sadness clean forsaken ! 

Aim. A poor slave 
Boiigiit for my governess, say you? 

Leon. 1 hear so. 

Aim. Ami, do you think, a Turk? 

Leun. His habit sliow-s it. 
At least bouglit for a Turk. 

Aim. Ay, that may be so. 

Leon. Wliat if he were one naturally ? 

/Hin. Nay, 'tis nothing, 
Nothing 10 the purpose; and yet, methinks, 'tis 

strange ^ 

Such handsomeness of mind, and civil outside, 
Sliould spring from those rude countries. 

Leon. If it be no more, 
I'll call our governess, and she can show you. 

Aim. W hy, do you think it is 1 

Leon, I do not think so. 

Aim. Fie ! no, no, by no means; and to tell thee 
truth, wench, 
I am truly glad he is here, be what he will ; 
Let him be still the same he makes a siiow of, 
For now we shall see something to delight us. 

Leon. And heaven knows, we have need on't. 

Aim. Heigh ho! my heart aches. 
Prithee, call in our governess. — [Exit Leonora.'] 

I'lagueo'this fellow ! 
Why do I think so much of him? how the devil 
Creep'd he in'o my head? and yet, beshrew me, 
Rlcthiuksl have not seen — I lie, 1 have seen 
A thousand handsomer, a thousand sweeter. 
But say this fellow were adorned as thev are. 
Set oft" to show and glory ! — What's that to me ? 
Fie ! whiat a fool am 1, what idle fancies 
Buz in my brains ! 

Pe-enter Lzosora with BonACiiiA. 

Bora. And how doth my sweet lady? 

Leon. Shewantsyour company tom;d{e her merry. 

Bora. And how does master Pug, 1 pray you, 
madam ? 

LeoH. Do you mean her little dog? 

Bora. 1 mean his worsiiip. 

Le-m. Troubled with fleas a little. 

Bora. Alas! poor ckicken ! 

Leon. Siie's here, and drunk, very fine drunk, 
I lake it ; 
1 fnund i:er with a bottle for her bolster. 
Lying along and muking love. 

Aim. liorachia. 
Why, where hast thou been, wench ? she looks not 

well, friend. 
Art not with child ? 

Bora. I promise ye, I know not, 
I am sure my belly's full, and that's a shrewd sign : 
Besides 1 am shrewdly troubled with a tiego 
Here in my head, madam; often with this tiego, 
It takes me very ofien. 

Leon. I believe thee. 

Aim. You must drink wine. 

Biira. A little would do no harm, sure. 

Leon. 'Tis a raw humour blows into your head ; 
Which good strong wine wiil temper. 

Bora. I thank your highness. 
I will be ruled, though much against my nature ; 



For wine I ever hated from my cradle : 

Yet for my good ■ 

Lfon. ,\y, tor ) our good, by all means. 
Aim. Borachia, what new fellow's that thou hast 
gotten 
(Now she will sure be free) ' that handsoma 
stranger? 
Bora, How much wine must I drink, an't please 

your ladyship ? 
Aim, She's finely greased. Why two or three 

round draughts, wench. 
Bcrra. Fasting ? 
Aim. At any time. 
Bora. I siiall hardly do it : 
But yet I'll try, good madam. 
Leon. Do . 'twill work well. 

Aim. But, prithee answer me, what is this fellow? 
Bora. I'll tell you two : but let it go no further. 
Leon. No, no, hy no means. 
Bora. May I not drink before bed too? 
Leon. At any hour. 

Birra. And say in the night it take me? 
Aim. Drink tlien : but what's this man? 
Bora. I'll tell ye, madam. 
But pray you be secret ; he's the great Turk's son 

for certain, 
And a fine Christian ; my husband bought him for 

me ; 
He's circumsinged. 

Leon. Ile's'circumcised, thou wouldst say. 
Aim. How dost thou know ? 
Birra. I had an eye ujion him : 
But even as sweet a Turk, aii"t like your lady- 
ship. 
And speaks ye as pure pagan ; — I'll a&sure ye, 
]My husband hail a notahle pennywort!) of him ; 
And found me but the lurk's own son, his own 

son 
By father nnd mother, madam ! 
Leon. She's mad-drunk. 

Aim. Priihee liorachia, call him ; I would see him, 
And tell thee how 1 like him. 
Bora, As fine a Turk, madam. 

For that which ajipertains to a true Turk 

Aim. Prithee, call him. 

Bo<a. He waits here at the stairs : — Son slave 
come hither. 

Enter Antonio. 

Pray you give me leave a little to instruct him, 
lie's raw yet in the way of entertainment. 
Son slave, where s the other bottle ! 

Ant. In the bed-straw, 
I hid it there. 

Bora. Go up, and make your honours. 
I\Iadam, fiie tiego takes me now, now, madam; 
I must needs be unma inerly. 

Aim. Pray \ou be so. 

Leon. You know your cure. 

Bora. Li the bed-straw ? 

Ant- There you'll find it. [Exit Born chia. 

Aim. Come hither, sir : how long have you 
served here ? 

Ant. A poor time, madam, yet, to show my 
service. 

Aim. I see thou art diligent. 

Ant. I would be, madam ; 
'Tis all the porti n left me, that ond truth. 

Aim, Thou art but young. 



Scene III.] 



A VERY UOMAN 



459 



Ant. Hfid fortune meant me so*. 
Excellent ladv, time had not much wrong'd me. 

Aim. Wilt thou serve me '! 

Ant. ]n all mv prayers, madam, 
Else such a misery as mine hut blasts you. 

Aim. lieshrew my heart, he speaks well ; won- 
drous honestly. ^Aside. 

Ant. IMadam, your loving lord stays for you. 

Leim. I tliank you. 
Your pardon for an hour, dear friend. 

Aim. Your pleasure. 

Leon. I dearly thank you, sir. [Exit. 

Ant. My humblest service. 
She views me narrowly, yet sure she knowB me not : 
1 dare not trust the time yet, nor 1 must r.r.t. 

Aim. Voa are not as your habit show<» ? 

Ant. No, mailam, 
His hand, that, lor my sins, lies heavy on me, 
I hope will keep me from being i uk/e to the 
devilf. 

Aim. A brave clear mind ho i9S, and nobly 
season'd. 
What country are you of? 

Ant. A IJiscan, lady|. 

Aim. i\o-<loubt, a gentleman? 

Aut. IMy father thoughts'). 

Aim, Ay, and 1 \\ arrant }h'-<! ? h/^' fair woman 
ITiy mother was , he blus'ts, thv ; c-.'-'».rms it. 
Upon my soul, 1 haven •, imiJ. i.'.iii »weeines3 ! 
I prithee, blush ai;:iin. 

Anl. 'lis a weiikiieo >.a^if£j, 
I am ed>il_y this way v u'd t~i. 

Aim. 1 thank yo>' 
Of all that e'er ' <.r(/, thot i.n tile rerfectest. 

[Aside. 
Now you riiui' '..I me, uh, (j. n-jw 1 long for't — 

Ant. U hat would sht, L". ■/•;'. 

Aim. The story of yon? toifSf.e, 
The liiir.l and cruel i'orr^.rx, brjjfr''* you hither. 

Aiit. That makes mo LCajger ; yet 1 hope I'm hid 
still. [^Aside. 

That 1 came hither, ir rjir.Ti. mr. d\Q fairest. 

Aim. Ijut how this rr.ijer^ ;oa bear, fell on you ? 

Anl. liij aiidum reg^fj. ptUt reiwvare dolorem. 

Aim. Come, I will Lave it ; i command you tell 
i>> 
For such a speaker I wo'i'.d hear for ever. 

Ant. Sure, madam, 'trill but make you sad and 
heavy. 
Because 1 know youi j|;oodness full of pity; 
And 'tis so poor a si'.'jCct too, and to your ears, 
That are acquainted with things sweet and easy, 
So harsh a harmony. 

Aim. 1 prithee s])eak it. 

Ant. 1 ever knew obedience the best sacrifice. 
Honour of ladies, then, first passing over 
Some few years of my youth, that are impertinent, 



• Ant Had ^fortune meant me «o, 

Excdlmt lady, time had mil much wrong'd me.] F'>r so, 
Mr. M. MaMiu wmiltl read i/ood, because,rt^ lie says, " a man's 
youtli (i. OS nut (lepi i!fl on f<.rtnne :" l)nl this is nut Massiii- 
gei's nuyniiis;, wliicli is, that if foiliiiie had doni; hiin no 
wrong (iitVniiig to the concludins; pait of ihe siiitence), he 
should have had hi<t li:tlu to complain «f time. In ollicr 
words, that lie was " but youni;," as Almira hail observed. 

t — ■ from beiny a slave to the devil.] 

That is, from being a Mahomeilan: his dnss, it appears, was 
that of a Tiiik. 

I Ant A Bisc.in, lady] Here Mr. M. Mason, for no bet- 
ter reis .11, that lean Ijnd, than spoiling the metre, reads, 
A Biscayau, lad]/. 



Let me begin the sadness of my story. 
Where 1 began to lose mvself, to love first. 

Aim. 'Tis well, go forward ; some rare ])ieco I 
look lor. 

Ant. Not far from where my father lives, a lady, 
A neiohhour hv, bless'd with as great a beauty 
As nature durst bestow without undoing*. 
Dwelt, and most happily, as 1 thought then, 
And bless'd the house a thousand times she dwelt in. 
I'his beauty, in the blossom ofinv youth, 
W hen my first fire knew no adulterate incense, 
Nor I no way to flatter, but my fondness; 
In all the bravery my friends could show me, 
In all the faith my innocence could give me. 
In the best language my true tongue could tell me, 
And all the broken sighs my sick heart lend me, 
I sued, and served : lung did 1 love this lady. 
Long was my travail, long my trade to win her ; 
Will) all the duty of my soul, I served her. 

Aim. How feelingly he speaks! and she loved 
you too ? 
It must be so. 

Ant. I would It had, dear lady ; 
This story had been needless, and this place, 
I think, unknown to me. 

Aim. Were your bloods equal ? 

Ant. Yes, and I thought our hearts too. 

Aim. Then she must love. 

Ant. She did — but never me ; she could not love 
me. 
She would not love, she haled, more, she scorn'd me, 
And in so poor and base a way abused me. 
For all mv services, for all my bounties. 
So bold neglects flung on me. 

Aim. An ill wiiman ! 
Belike you found some rival in your love, then ! 

Ant. How perfectly she points me to my storyl 

[Adde. 
Madam, I did ; and one whose pride and anger, 
111 manners, and worse mien, she doted on, 
Doted to my undoing, and my ruin. 
And, but for honour to your sacred beauty. 
And reverence to the noble sex, tlioui;li she fall. 
As she must fall that durst be so unnoble, 
I should say something unbeseeming me. 
What out of love, and worthy love, I gave her, 
Shame to her most unworthy mind ! to fools. 
To girls, and fiddlers, to her boys she flung. 
And in disdain of me. 

Aim. Pray vou take me with youf. 
Of what comple.\ion was she? 

Ant. But that I dare not 
Commit so great a sacrilege 'gainst virtue. 

She look'd not much unlike though far, fa; 

short. 
Something I see appears — your pardon, madam — 
Her eyes would smile so, but her eyes would 
cozen ; 

• As nature durst bestow without undoing,] herself, as I 
suppose; lor that is a Irequiiit sentiment ni lh< se I'lays 
The remainder of this speech, and, inilted, ottlie«liole 
scene, is beauiilul beyond e.spressiini. 'riie Eiii;li-h language . 
does not furnish so complete a specimen I'f sweetncfs, ele- 
gance, and simplicity, of all that i- harmonious in poesie 
tender in sentiment, and ardent in aflection, as the passage 
be^iiinin!;, 

This beauty, in the blossom of m;/ youth, &c 

I t Aim. J^riiu yiiu take me with yon.] i. e. let me iiiidei- 

1 stand jou. 'J'lie last circnmst.ince mentioned in Dmi Jului's 

speech seems to have recalled 'o her mind the flinyiny of 

1 the jewel with which he had presented her, to Cardtnes 

ii:ij;c. 



460 



A VERY WOMAN. 



I ACT IV 



And so slie would look sad : but yours is pit)-, 
A noble cliorus to my wretched story ; 
Hers wiis (lisdiiin :ind cruelty. 

Aim. Pray l)e;wen 
Mine be no worse! he has told me a strange story, 

[Aside, 
And >i;iid 'twould ni;ilce me sad ! he is no liar. — 
But where bptjins this poor state 1 1 will Lave all, 
For it concerns me truly. 

Arir. Liist, 10 blot me 
From !i:l leinembrance what I had been to her, 
And hew, how honestly, how nobly served Iier, 
''I'was ihoiiLiht she set her gallant to dispaicli me. 
'lis iriie, he (]uarreird witliout place or reason : 
We f()ii<;lit, I kill'd him ; heaven's strong hand was 

w itli me ; 
For which I lost, my country, friends, acquaintance, 
And ])iit mvself'to sea, where a piiate took me, 
Foicing tlip habit of a Turk upon me*, 
And soltl me here. 

Aim. Slop there awhile ; but stay still. 

( Wiilhs aside. 
In this man's sforv, how I look, how mdustroiis ! 
How ])noi- and naked nnw 1 shew ! what don John, 
In all (he virtne of his life, but aimed at 
I'hi- tliiiiii' baih concpieT'd with a tale, and carried. 
Forj;ive me, thou that guid'st me ! never ccmscience 
Touch'd me till now, nor true Inve : let me keep it. 
Be-eiiier Lf.onoha with Pediio. 

Leon. She is there. Speak to her, you will find 
lier aler'd. 

Pediv. Sister, I am glad to see you, but far 
gladder. 
To see yiiii entertain your health so well. 

Aim. I am glad to see you too, sir, and .shall be 
gladder 
Shortly to See you all. 

Peilio. Now she speaks heartily. 
What do vou want ? 

Aim. Only an Iiour of privateness ; 
I have h few thoughts — 

I'edrn. Take your full contentment, 
We'll vvalk a-;iile ayaiu ; but first to you, friend, 
Or I shall much forget mvself : my bust friend, 
Command me ever, ever — vou have won itf. 

Ai.t. Vour loul.ship overflows me. 

Leon. 'lis but due, sir. 

[Eientit Leonora and Pedro. 

Aim. He's there still. Come, sir, to your last 
part now, 
Which oidy is your name, and I dismiss you. 
.Wliv, whither go vou ? 

Ant. Give me leave, good tnadam, 
Or I must be so seeming rude to take it. 

Aim. You shall not go, I swear you shall not go: 
I ask you nothing but vour name ; you have one, 
And whv should that thus fright you? 

Ant. Gentle madam, 
1 caimot sjieak ; pray pardon me, a sickness, 
That takes me often, ties my tongue : go from me, 
My fit's iiifectiou-i, lady. 

Aim. ^Vere it death 
In all his horrors, 1 must ask and know it ; 



• Forcimi thisha'iit of a Turk tipnnme,] Tlih liiic, wliicli 
is of tliL- iMi.re i.ii|iiirt,oi(c, as it riiiiii^ies the only ifHsn.i 
wliy I), 111 Juliii ajipe .le I in sucli a tliess, is wholly oniittid 
by biitli llie inodiiu cilitms! 

+ you have won it] So the nlil 

copy, which 1 nrclcr ;is the .-implt-r reading: the inoiicrii 
editors have you Iiiive tvon me. .-ome act nf kiuduejs must 
be supposed to pass o" the side of Don Pedro. 



Your sickness is unwillingness. Hard h^art, 
To let a lady of my youth and place 
Beg tlius long for a trifle ! 

Ant. Worthiest lady, 
Be wise, and let me go ; you'll b)e.ss me for't j 
Be,' not that poison irom me that will kill you. 

Aim. I only bog your name, sir. 

Ant. That will choak you ; 
I do beseech vou, pardon me. 

Aim. Twill not*. 

Ant. You'll curse me when you hear it. 

Aim. Rather l.iss thee ; 
Why shoiddst thou think so? 

Ant. Why. i bear that name, 
And most unluckily as now it happens 
(Though 1 be innocent of all occa-ion), 
I'hat, since my coming hiilier, peojde le'l me 
Vou hale bs^yond forgiveness: now, heaven knows 
So mucli respect, although I am a stranger, 
Duty, and humble zeal, 1 bear your sweetness, 
That for the world I would not giieve your good- 
ness : 
Til change my name, dear madam. 

Aim. People lie, 
And wrong thy name ; thy name may save all others. 
And make that holy to me, that 1 hated : 
Prithee, what is't ? 

Aut. Don John Antonio. 
U hat will this woman do, what thousand changes 
Kun throu-h her heart and hands t ? no tix'd thought 

in her ! 
She loves for certain now, but now I dare not. 
Heaven guide me right ! 

Aim. 1 am not angry, sir, 
With you, nor with your mmie ; I love it rather, 
And shall rps|)ect you — you deserve — lor this time 
I license you to go ; be not fur from me, 
1 shall call for you often. 

Ant. 1 shall wait, madam. [Eitt. 

Enter Ci'cui-o. 

Aim. Now, what's the news with you ? 
Cnc. My lord your father 
Sent me to tell your honour, prince Martino 
Is well recovered, and in strength. 

Aim. Why, let him. — 
The stories and the names so well agreeing, 
And both so noble gentlemen. [Asidt 

Cnc. And more, an't please you — 
Aim. It doth not please me, neither more nor 

less on't. 
Cnc. They'll come to visit vou. 
Aim. They shall break through the doors then. 

[ Exit. 
Cnc. Here's a new trick of state ; this shows 
foul weather ; 
But let her make it when she please, I'll gain by it. 

[Eiit. 



• Ant. That will choak you ; 
1 do hexi-ech you, -pardon me. 

Abn. J wiil nnr.] 'J'liese two spcfchcs are also omitted, 
not (;nly bv Co.xeler, but liy the " eoriecte.^t" of edilois, Mr. 
M. Ma^onl 

t liun throtnjk hfr hrart and hand??] For hand.i. Mr. 
M. M.isoii it.ids head Hands i-< lo.t likely t<> have been 
coniipt<d, and is, l)e>ide'i, as piopir as the wurd wl.icli he 
arliitr.irily intnidnces. It is vrr> sirani;e that this i^entlnnan 
sliciild give Ins reader no iidticr ot his vaiiaiioiis from Cox- 
eler, alilioiii^li he piol'e-ses to do ii in his I'ret'.ice, and.Mran- 
f;er still, that lie slioidd piiMinie them to be genuine, and 
agrte.ible W the old cop^ , wliicli he never deijiiij to consulL 



I 



Scene III.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



461 



ACT V. 



SCENE I.— ^ Street. 
Enter Pirates, and the Slave that follotced Paulo. 

1 Pir. Sold for a slave, say'st thou? 

Slave. ' I'was not so well ; 
Though I am bad enouoh, I personated 
Such base beliaviour, ().irbarism of manners. 
With oiher pranks, that miijht deter the buyer, 
That tiie market \ielcled not one man that would 
Vouchsafe to own nie. 

1 Pir. What was thy end in it? 

Slave. 'Jo be given away for nothirg, a^? I was 
To the vicnroy's ducfor; with him I've continued 
In such contempt, a slave unto his slaves ; 
His horse and dng- of nioie este m : and from 
That villanous carriage of mvself, as if 
I'd been a lump of flesh without a soul, 
I drew such scorn upon me, that I pass'd. 
And pried in every jilace witiiout observance. 
For wijieh, if you desire lo be made men, 
And by one undertaking, and that easy. 
You are bound to sacrifice unto my .sufferings, 
The seed 1 sow'd, and from which you siiall reap 
A plentiful harvest. 

1 Pir. To the point; I like not 
Tliese castlr-s built in the air. 

Slave. I'll make them real, 
And you the Neptunes of the sea; you shall 
No more be sea-r;its*. 

1 Pir. Art not niiid? 

Slave. Vou have seen 
The star of Sicilv, the fair Almira, 
The viterov's daiigliter, and the beauteous ward 
Of the dul<e of Messina? 

1 h'ir. Madam Leonora. 

Slave. \Vli;it will you sav, if both these princesses. 
This very .night, for 1 will not delay you, 
Be ])iit in your possession ? 

1 Pir. i\ow 1 dare swestr 
Thou hast maggots in liiy brains ; thou wouldst not 

else. 
Talk of impossibilities. 

Slave, lie still 
Incredulous. 

1 Pir. Why, canst thou think we are able 
To force the court ? 

Slave. Are we able to force two women. 
And a poor Turkish slave? Where lies your pin- 
nace? 

1 Pir. On a creek not half a league hence. 
Slave. Can you fetch ladders 

To mount a garden wall ? 

2 Pir. Tliey shall be ready. 

Slave. No more words then, but follow me ; and if 
I do not make this good, let my throat pav tor't. 

1 Pir. What heaps of gold ihese beauties would 
bring to us 
From the great Turk, if it were possible 
That this could be efi'ecteJ 1 



* you shall \ 

A'o more ft^ sea-rats. 1 " Tlitre be IniKl-rats and wnter-rafs 
(sa>... Slijlock), 1 mean pirates." Heiicc, 1 suppobe, llic 
alliisiuii. 



Slave. If it be not, 
I know the price on't. 

1 Pi'r. And be sure to pay it. [Eicant, 

SCENE II. — A Room in Cucui.o's House. 

Enter Antomo with a letter in his hand. 

Ant. Her fair hand threw this from the window 
to me. 
And as I took it up, she said. Peruse it, 
And entertain a Jinlnue njf'er'd to thee. — 
What may the inside speak ? 

\^Breaks it open, and reads. 
For satisfaction 
Of the contempt I shoiv'd dn>t John Anlnnio, 
IVhose name than henr'iit. and in that dearer to me, 
I do profeis I love thei- — How ! — 'lis so — 
I love thee ; this ni^ht n'a>t me in the S'irden, 
There ikon shall know more — subscribed, 

Thy Almira 
Can it be possible such levi'y 
Should wait on tier perfVctions ! when I was 
Myself, set off will all the grace of greatness. 
Pomp, braverv, circuMi-tance, s-he hated me, 
And did profess it openlv ; vet now, 
lieing a slave, a tliiii* sIih shoulil in reason 
Disdain fo look upon ; in lliis base shape, 
And, since I wore it, never did her service, 
To dote thus fondly ! — -\iid yt^t I should glory 
In her revolt from constancy, not accuse it. 
Since it makes for me. Hut, ere I go further, 
Or make discovery of myself, I'll put Ler 
'J"o the utmost trial. /// the garden ! well. 
There 1 shall leatn more. Women, giddy women! 
In her the blemish of your sex you ])rove. 
There is no reason for your hate or love. [Exit. 

SCENE III. — A Garden heionuiii;:: to the same. 
F.nler Ai..iiiiia, LEONonA, and two Wailing Women, 

Leon. At tliis 
Unseasonable lime to be thus brave*, 
No visitants expected! you amaze me. 

Aim. Are these jewels set forth to the best ad- 
vantage 
To take the eye ? 

1 ]Vom. W ill) our best care. 

2 Worn. We never 
Better discharged our duties. 

Ahn, In my sorrows, 
A princess' name (1 could perceive it) struck 
A kind of reverence in him, and my beauty. 
As then neglected, forced him to look on me 
With some sparks of afiection ; but now, 
When 1 would fan them to a glorious flame, 
I cannot be too curious, 1 wonder 
He stays so long. 

Leon. These are strans;e fancies. 



• to hpthvs brave,] i. e. thn» 

superbly drest. I sli.ill he hl.oiied tor lecmiiiig so fre- 
qnenlly to llie aiiciei.t ineaiiiii!; <it' llii.s e\|He.«.'-iiiii ; lajt as it 
is tiseii in a ditteieiit sei;>e atpie.siiH, 1 here may be some 
small pita ottiud, peili.ips, lor himIIihi; llie reader's alien 
lion, at iiitervaLs, lo its niyinal sii;iiilic.itioii. 



462 



A VERY WOMAN. 



rAcT V 



Aim. Go, 

Entreat — I do forget myself — cominanci 

My govprness' t;eiitleinan — her sl;ive, I sliould say, 

To wyic me instantly; — [Exit 1 IVoman.^ — and yet 

already 
He's here : liis figure graven on my heart. 
Never to be razed out. 

Enter Pirates, and the Slave. 

Slave. There is the prize, 
Is it so rich ihat you dare not seize upon it ? 
Here I beg^in. [Seizes Almira. 

Aim. Hfl].! villain! 

1 Pir. You are mine. [Se/zes Leonora. 

2 Pir. Tliougli somewhat coarse, you'll serve 
after a storm, 

To bid fair weather welcome. [Seizes 2 Woman, 

Leon. Kavisher! 
Defend me, heaven ! 

Aim. No aid near ! 

2 Worn. Help ! 

Slave. Disi)atch. 
No glove nor handkerchief to stop their mouths? 
Their cries will reach the guard, and then we are 
lost. 

Pe-enter 1 Woman, tvilh Antonio. 
Ant, ^Vhat shrieks are these? froai whence ? O 
blessed saints. 
What sacrilege to beauty ! do I talk. 
When 'tis almost too late to do! — [Forces a stvord 
from the Sluie.\ — Take thSt. 
Sliire. All set upon him. 
1 Pir. Kill him. 
Ant. Vou shall buy 
Mj life at a dear lale, you rogues. 

Enter Pinito, Cucui.o, Boiiaciiia, and Guard. 

Cue. Down witii thern! 

Pedro. Unhe.ir.l-of treason ! 

Bi-r<i. Make in, lognerheiid ; 
My son slave lights like a diagoii : take my bottle. 
Drink c<iiirage out oii't. 

Ant. Madam, you are free. 

Pedro, i ake comfort, dearest mistress. 

Cue. vou micher, 
Have you a hand in this ? 

Slave. iMv aims were hiah ; 
Fortune's my enemy ; to die's the worst, 
And that 1 lonk for.' 

1 /'/■;•. Wngeance en your plots ! 

Pedro. 'J"he rack at better leisure shall force from 
tliem 
A full discoverv: awav wiili them. 

Cur. Lo:.d them witli irons. 

Bora. Let ihem have no wine 

[Kiii G nurd with Pirates and Slave, 
To comfort their cold hearts. 

Pedro. 'I'hou man of men! 

Leon, A secoid Hercules. 

Aim. An aiigei thu- di.-guised. 

Pedro. What thanks \ 

Leon. \\hi:t service ? 

Bora. He shall seive me, by your leave, no ser- 
vice else. 

Ant. ] ha^e done no;hing but my duty, madam; 
And if the lit'le \ou have Neen exceed it, 
The thanks diif for it pay my watchful master. 
And thismv sober niisiiess. 

Bora, lie speaks truth, madam. 
I am very sober. 



Pedro. Var beyond thy Lopes 
Expect reward. 

Aim. We'll straight to court, and there 
It is resolved what I will say and do. 
1 am faint, support me. 

Pedro. This strange accident 
Will be heard with astonishment. Come, friend. 
You have made yourself a fortune, and deserve it. 

[Exeunt 
« 

SCENE IV. 
A Room in the Viceroy's Palace. 

Enter Viceroy, Dnkeof Messina, and Paulo 

Duke. Perfectly cured ! 

Paul. As such I will present him : 
The thanks be given to heaven. 

Duhe. 'Jhrice-reverend man. 
What thanks but will come short of thy desert ? 
I Or bounty, though all we possess were given thee, 
Can pay thy merit? I will have thy statue 
Set up in brass. 

Vice. Thy name made the sweet subject 
Of our best poems; thy unequall'd cures 
Recorded to posterity. 

Paul. Such false glories 
(Though the desire of fame be the last weakness 
Wise men put off') are not the marks I slmot at: 
But, if 1 have done any thing that may challenge 
Your favours, mighty princes, my request is. 
That for the gooil of such as shall succeed me, 
A college for physicians may be 
^Vith care and cost erected, in which no man 
May be admitted to a fellowship, 
But such as by their vigilant studies shall 
Deserve a place there; this magnificence. 
Posterity shall thank you for. 

Vice. Rest assured, 
In this, or any boon you please to ask, 
You sliall have no rt'pulse. 

Paul. My humblest service 
Shall ne'er be wanting. Now, if you so please, 
I'll letch my jirincely patient, and ])reseiu him. 

Duhe. Do ; and imai;iiie in what I may serve you. 
And, by my honour, with a willing hand 
I will subscribe to't. [Exit Paulo. 

E'lter Pedho, Ai.jiinA, Leonora, Antonio, Cuculo, 
Boiiaciiia, and Guard. 

Cue, Make way there. 

Vice. My daughter ! 
How's this ! a slave crown'd with a civic garland! 
'I'he mystery of this ? 

Pedro. It will deserve 
Your hearing and attention : such n truth 
Needs not rhetorical flourishes, and therefore 
With all (he brevity and [)Iainness that 
I can, 1 will deliver it. If the old Romans, 
When of most jioweraiid wi?dom did decree 
A wreath like this to anv common soldier 
'That saved a citizen's life, the bravery 

• Though the desire of fantf be the last wen/ini'ss 
yi'ise wen put off). ] S^i Mii I'li bcaiititully c.iils fame, 
" Tlidt l.l^t intirmiry of ii bit- iiiimls:" a llmn^li r.i, wliich 
he, as wtll as .Mas.~iiiJiT, was pmliitily iinlc-liicl !.■ Taiitiis: 
Quando etiam sapienlilmx cu/tido ylorii'j nnvissinia e.rui- 
tur.— Hht. II. (i. (h- ratlier ti> hiiii|.litiii> : Ato Krt» 
ftT;j;aroc Xfyfrai Ttov Tta^iov ;^itwv i) <}i\oSo^ia, 
SiOTi Tuit' aWuii' 7To\\aict(; St uitiji' cnrori'iyjxei'ittv 
avTY) ■KpoQiapciraiTi] \1/vki}. — Comm.ad Ep'Ct. xlviii 



Scene IV.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



46S 



And valour of tliis man may justlv clinllenge 
Trinmjili-.int laurel. This last niglit a crew 
Of pirates brake in signior Cuculo's liouse, 
With vicilnnt rudeness seizinp; on my sister, 
And Miy fair mistress ; both were in tlieir power, 
And ready to be fo'ced hence, when this man 
Unarm'd came to their rescue, but his courajre 
Soon Airnish'd liim with weapons ; in a word, 
The lives and liberties of these sweet ladies 
You owe him for : the rovers are in hold, 
And ready, when you please, for punishment. 

Vice. As an induction of more to come. 
Receive this favour. 

Duke. With myself, my son 
Shall pay his real thanks. He comes ; observe now 
Their amorous meeting. 

Ue-enter Paulo uith CAnDENES. 
Car. I am glad you are well, lady. 
Aim. I grieve not your recovery. 
Vice. So C'lldly ! 
Duke. Why fall you off? 
Car. To shun captivity, sir, 
I was too long a slave, I'll now be free. 

Aim. 'Tis my desire you should. Sir, my affec- 
tion 
To him was but a trifle, which I play'd with 
In the childhood of my love ; which now, grown 

older, 
T cannot like of. 

Vice. St-^ange inconstancy ! 
Cur. 'Tis judgment, sir, in me, or a true debt 
Tender'd to justice, rather. My first life, 
I.oadeu with all the follies of a man. 
Or what could take addition from a woman. 
Was by my headstrong passions, wliicli o'er-ruled 
My understanding, I'oifeited to dtaili : 
But this new being, this my second life, 
Begun in serious contemplation of 
Wliat best becomes a perfect man, shall never 
Sink under such weak frailties. 
Duke. IMost unlook'd for ! 
Paul. It does transcend all wonders. 
Car. ' J'is a blessing 
I ovi-e your wisdom, which I'll not abuse : 
But if you envy your own gift, and will 
Make me that wretched creature which I was, 
You then again shall see nie passionate, 
A lover of ]ioor trifles, confident 
In man's deceiving strength, or falser fortune ; 
Jealous, revengeful, in unjust things daring, 
Injurious, quarrelsome, stored with all diseases 
The beastly jjart of man infects his soul with. 
And to remember what's the worst, once more 
To love a woman : but till that time never. \_Exit. 
Vice. Stand you affected so to men, Almira? 
Aim. No, sir; if so, I could not well discharge 
What I stand bound to pay you, and to nature. 
Though prince Martino does profess a hate 
To womankind, 'twere a poor world for women, 
Were there no other choice, or all should follow 
The example of this new Ilippolitus : 
There are men, sir, that can love, and have loved 

truly ; 
Nor am 1 desperate but I may deserve 
One that botli can and will ^. 

Vice. .My allowance 
ShidI rank with your good liking, still provided 
Your choice be worthy. 



Aim. In it I have used 
The judgment of my mind, and that made dearpr 
Will) calling oft to heaven it might he so. 
I have not sought a living comfort from 
The reverend ashes of old ancestors ; 
Nor given myself to the mere name and titles 
Of such a man, that, being himself nothing, 
Derives his substance from his grandsire's tomb : 
For wealih, it is beneath my birth to think on't. 
Since that must wait upon me, being your daughter 
No, sir, the man 1 love, though he wants all 
The setting forth of fortune, gloss and greatness. 
Has in himself such true and real goodness. 
His pa?ts so far above his low condition. 
That he will prove an ornament, not a blemish. 
Both to your name and family. 

Pedro. What strange creature 
Hath she found out? 

Leon. I dare not guess. 

A 'to. To hold you 
No longer in suspense, this matchless man, 
That saved my li'e and honour, is my husband. 
Whom I will serve with duty. 

Bora. My son slave ! 

Vice. Have you \our wits ? 

Bora. I'll not part with him so. 

Cue. Tiiis I foresaw too. 

Vice. Do not jest thyself 
Into the danger of a father's anger. 

Aim. Jest, sir ! by all my hope of comfort in him, 
I am most serious. Good sir, look upon him ; 
But let it be with my eyes, and the care 
You should owe to your daughter's life and safety 
Of which, without him, she's incapable. 
And yoii'U approve him worthy. 

Vice. O thou shame 
Of women ! thy sad father's curse and scandal ! 
With what an impious violence thou tak'st from 

him 
His few short hours of breathing ! 

Paid. Do not add, sir, 
Weight to your sorrow in the ill-bearing of it. 

Vice. From whom, degenerate monster, flow these 
low 
And base affections in thee ? what strange philtres 
Hast thou received ? what witch with damned spells 
Deprived thee of thy reason? Look on me. 
Since thou ait lost unto thyself, and learn, 
From what I suffer for thee, what strange tortures 
'J'hou dost prepare thyself. 

Duke. Good sir, take comfort ; 
The counsel you bestow'd on me, make use of. 

Paul. This villain (for such practices in that 
nation 
Are very frequent), it may be, hath forced. 
By cunning potions, and by sorcerous charms, 
This frenzy in her. 

Vice. Sever them. 

Aim. I grow to him. 

Vice. Carry the slave to torture, and wrest from 
him. 
By the most cruel means, a free confession 
Of his impostures. 

Aim. 1 will follow him. 
And with him take the rack. 

Bora. No : hear me speak, 
I can speak wisely : hurt not my son slave, 
But rack or hang my husband, and 1 care n^Jtj 
For I'll be bound body to body with him. 
He's veiy honest, that's his fault. 



46* 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[Act' 



Vice. Take lience 
This drunken beast. 

Bom. Drunk ! am I drunk? bear witness. 

Cue. Slie is indeed distemper'd. 

Vice, llano- them both, 
If e'er more liiey come near the court. 

Cue. Good sir, 
You can i-ecover dead men ; can you cure 
A living' (Iruiikeniiess ? 

Paul. 'Tis the harder task : 
Go ])ome with her, I'll send you something that 
Shall once aj^aiii bring- her to better temper, 
Or miike her sleep for ever. 

Cue. \\ hich you please, sir. 

[Exeunt Cuculo and Borachia. 

Vice. \Miv linger you? rack him first, and after 
break him 
Upon the wheel. 

Pedro. Sir, this is more than justice. 

Aut Is't (ie;ith in Sicily to be beloved 
Of a lair liuly ? 

Leon. Though he be a slave, 
Remember yet he is a man. 

Vice. I am deaf 
To all persuasions : — drag him hence. 

[The Guard carry off Antonio. 

Aim, Do, tyrant, 
No more a lather, feast thy cruelty 
Upon iiiy daughter ; but hell's plagues fall on me, 
If I inflict not on myself whatever 
He can endiire (or me. 

Vice. Will none restrain her? 

Aim. Death halh a thousand doors to let out life, 
I shall find one. If Portia's burning; coals. 
The knife of Liicrece, Cleopatra's aspics. 
Famine, deep wa'ers, have the power ti> fi-ee me 
From a loutji'tl li!e, I'll not an hour outlive him. 

Pedro. Sistt-r ! 

Leon. De;ir cousin ! 

[E\il A I in ira, followed by Pedro and Leon. 

Vice. I-ei her ]>erisli. 

Paul. 1 lear me : 
The eflV'cts ol' violent love are desperate. 
And iheret'ore in the execution of 
The slave be not too sudden. I was present 
When he was bouglit, and -at that time mvself 
Made purchase of another ; he that sold them 
Said that they were companions of one country ; 
Soineihing may rise fiom this to ease your sorrows. 
Jiy circum.-,tiince I'll learn what's iiis condition ; 
In the mean tinio use all iair and gentle means 
To pacity tlie ladv. 

Vice I'll endeavour, 
.As far as grief ami anger will give leave, 
To do as you direct me. 

Vuke. 1 11 abSist you. [Exeunt. 

SCE\i'> V, — A Room in the Prison. 
Enter PiiDno and Keeper. 

Pedro. ITath he been visited already ? 

Keep. \es, sir, 
iJke one of better fortune ; and to increase 
My wonder ol it, such as repair to him. 
In their behaviour, rather appear 
Servants, tiiaii friends to comfort him. 

Pedro, Go fetch liim. [E.rif Keeper. 

I am hoiirii i-: <;r;ititude to do more than wish 
The lii'e mm sar'ety of a man that hath 
So well deserved me. 



Re-enter Keeper with Avtonio/h his former dress, aitd 
Servant. 

Keep, Here he is, my lord. 

Pedro. Who's here? thou art no conjuror to raisiB 
A spirit in the best shape m-an e'er a])iiear'd in, 
Mv friend, the prince of Tarent! doubts forsake me, 
I must and will embrace him. 

Ant Pedro holds 
One that loves life for nothing, but to live 
To do him service. 

Pedro, You are he, most certain. 
Heaven ever make me thankful for this bounty! 
Run to the viceroy, let him know this rarifv. 

[Exit Keeper. 
Rut how came you here thus? — Yet, since 1 haveyou, 
Is't not enough I bless the prosperous means 
'Jbat brought you hither? 

Ant. Dear friend, you shall know all ; 
And though in thankfulness 1 should be'>-in 
Where you deliver'd me ■ 

Pedro. Pray you pass that over. 
That's not worth the relation. 

Ant, You confirm 
True friends love to do courtesies, not to hear them. 
Hut I'll ohev you. In our tedious jiassage 
Towards Malta — 1 may call it so, for hinlly 
We had lost the ken of Siiily, but we were 
Becalm'd and huH'd so up and down twelve hours ; 
When to our more misfortunes, we dp.scrieii 
Eight well-mann'd gallies making niii.iin for us. 
Of which the arch Turkish j)ira'e, rriiel Dragut, 
Was admii-iil : I'll not speak wiiiit I did 
In our defence, but never man did m"i-e 
Than the brave cajjfain that you sent forih witli me : 
All w-ould not do ; courage opjiress'd w itii niirnber, 
We were boarded, pillaged to the skin, and after 
Twice sold for slaves ; by the pirate first, and after 
-Hy a Maltese, to signior Cuculo, 
Which I repent not, since there 'iwiis my fortune 
To be to you, my best iriend, some wavs ii-e!iil — 
I thought to cheer you up w ith this short story. 
But you gi-ow sad on't. 

Pedro, Have I not just cause, 
When I consider 1 could be so stupid 
As not to see a friend through all di-^giiises ; 
Or he so far to question mv true love, 
I o keep himself conceal'd ? 

Ant, 'I'was fit to do .-o. 
And not to grieve you with the knowledge of 
What then 1 was ; where now 1 appear to you*. 
Your sister loving- me, and .Martino safe. 
Like to myself and birth. 

Pedro. May you live long so ! 
How dost thou, honest I'rend (your trustiest ser- 
vant)? 
Give me thy hand : — T now can guess by whom 
You are thus furnish'd. 

Ant, 'J'roth he met with me 
As I was sent to prison, and there brought me 
Such thinsfs as I had use of. 



• IT fiat '.hen I wa<! ; wlirre nov I appear tn i/ou,] Ten 
times, ill llie course of '\\h very (iIh^, tn .-.i\ noilnii!; i>f all 
liie ie,-t, wheie ucciirs in liic srii.-r < ( wlwiran ; \tt Mr 
M. M.isuii prolits ndlhini; by it. H-- .lUvif, ami iiilr polntes 
»t will, ail I laliricates a line, wiiicli cm <'ii)y tiu iiMlclitd by 
tliMl "hi.li I li.tve a! iM(ly luilk.il. 

It'luit then I was ; for wlii-rtMS now I appeiir to ymi! 
'I'on-c lii< jM-l an, I inodrst rf|ironl to ll.c .<iit"is of Beau- 
iiioiit aijil Klelcher: " Tlie iiio'lc orc\|)i<-.->i ii is s. niinnion, 
lli.t J uni surfjrisfd tliMt llic i;i-ii'lt-in ■" -li^'iiM Ii.ivl- arrived 
al the la^l vuliniie wilUoiit biiuu btltLi aiuii.iiiituU A'itli it I" 



8C«KE VI.] 



A VERY WOMAN. 



469 



Pedro, Let's to court ; 
My father nevev saw a man so welcome 
As you'll be to liim. 

Ant. l\]ay it prove so, friend ! [Exeunt. 



SCENE VI. — A Uoom in the Viceroy's Palace. 
Enter \'iciii()v, /-)(//ie'y Mkss^na, Cardi nes, Pauio, 
Captain, Ai.miua, LEONOnA, Wuituig Women, 
and Attend, tills. 

Vice. 'I'lie slave changed to the prince of Tarent, 
says he 1 

Cai't. V'es, sir, and I tlie captain of the fort. 
Worthy of your dis|ileiisure. and the effect oft, 
For my decidviiig of that trust your excellency 
Repo.-ediii me. 

Paul. \ei since all Iiath fallen out 
Beyond yonr hopes, let me become a suitor, 
And a jirevailint;' une, to get his pardon. 

Aim. <), dearest l^fonora, with what forehead 
Dare 1 look on him now ? too poweri'ul Love, 
The best stiengih of thv unconfined empire 
Lies in weak women's hearts: tliouart teign'd blind, 
And Tet we borrow our best siujit from thee. 
Could it be else, the jierson still the same, 
Affection over me such )>ower should have, 
To make me scorn a jirince, and love a slave ? 

Car. Hut art tiiou sure 'tis he? 

Capt. INlost certain, sir. 

Car. Is he in liealtii, strong, vigorous, and as able 
As wlien he left me dead? 

Crt/)(. ^ onr own eves, sir. 
Shall make goi.d my report. 

Car. I am glad of it, 
And take you comfort in it, sir, there's hope. 
Fair hoj)e left for me, to repair mine honour. 

Duhe. What's that? 

Car. 1 will do something that shall speak me 
Messina's son. 

Dnhe. I like not this : one word, sir 

Vice. We'll prevent it. 
Nay, look up my Almira ; now I approve 
Thv happy choice ; 1 have forgot my anger ; 
1 freelv do forsjive thee. 

Aim'. May 1 find 
Such easiness in the wrorg'd prince of Tarent! 
I then were hajipv. 

Leon. Re.-t assured you shall. 

Enter Ayroy^o, PEono, and Servant. 

Vice. We all with open arms haste to embrace 
you. 

Duke. Welcome, most welcome ! 

Car. Slay. 

Duke 'Twas this I fear'd. 

Car. Sir, 'tis best known to you, on what strict 
terms 
The refiulation of men's fame and honours 
Depends in this so punctual age, in which 
A word that may receive a harsh construction 
Is answer'd and defended by the sword : 
And yon, that know so much, will, I presume, 
Be sensibly tender of another's credit. 
As you would guard your own. 

Ant. I weie unjust else. 

Car. I have received from your hands wounds 
and deep ones, 
Mv honour in the general report 
Tainted and scil'd, for which J will demand 
Tiiis satisfaction — that you would forgive 



My contumelious words and blow, my rash 
And unadvised wdilness first threw on you. 
Thus 1 wouhl teach the world a better way. 
For the recovery of a wounded honour, 
Than with a savage fury, not true courage, 
Still to run headlong on. 

Art. Can ibis be serious? 

Ciir. I'll add this, he that does wrong, not alone 
Draws, but makes sharp, his enemy's swurd against 
His own life and his honour. 1 have i)aid for't; 
And wish that they who dare most, would learn 

from me. 
Not to maintain a wrong, but to repent it. 

Piinl Why. this is like yourself. 

Car. For further proof. 
Here, sir, with all my interest, I give up 
This lady to you. 

Vice. Which I make more strong 
With my free grant. 

Aim. 1 bring mine own consent, 
Wliich will not weaken it. 

All. All joy confirm it ! 

Ant. Your unexpected courtesies amaze me. 
Which 1 will study with all love and service 
To appear worthy of. 

Paul. Pray >ou, understand, sir, 
Tiiere are a pair of suitors more, that gladly 
Would hear from you as much as the pleased 

viceroy 
Hath said unto the prince of Tarent. 

Duke. Take her, 
Her dowry shall be answerable to 
Her birth and jour desert. 

Pedro. You make both happy. 

Ant. One only suit remains ; that you would 
please 
To take again into your highness' favour 
This honest captain: let him have \our grace ; 
What's due to his much merit, shall from me 
Meet liberal rewards. 

Vice. Have your desire. 

Ant. Now may all here that love, as they are 
friends 
To our good fortunes, find like prosperous ends. 
• [ Exeunt, 



EPILOGUE. 

Custom, and that a law we must; obey, 

In the way of epilogue bids me something say, 

Howeer to little purpose, since we know. 

If you are pleased, unbegg'd you wdl bestow 

A gentle censure: on the other side. 

If that this })lay deserve to be decried 

In your opinions, all that I can say 

W ill never turn the stream the oihef way. 

Your gracious smiles will render us secure ; 

Your frowns without despair we must endure*. 

• This is one oftlie most asjrecablc prodnclii'iis oC Massin- 
ger. However extravagant llie priiiripal i\enl iriay appear, 
the manner in wliicli it is coiKJucied is snUinenlly regular. 
Willi such occasional interruptions a> must b e\(iecleil and 
pardoned in all tliese dramas (for the intrrliifics will have 
their admittance), it maintains its pieili.niiiiance, and pro- 
ceeds to the conclusion which is provi.leit for it at llie com- 
mencement. The inlermediaie parts are a mixture of 
att'■clingselioll^ne.'■s,slrons;, though I'reqiM nlly coarse humour, 
and elegant tenderness. The reader must h.ive particularly 
reiiiaikei these qualities in the opening of thi- Sfconil acl. 
in ihe sale of the .'■laves, and the charming, but loo short, 
scene in which Leonora endeavours to soolhe the agitations 
of Almira. Act III. ac. iv. The last of these is a happy 



466 



A VERY WOMAN. 



[AcrV- 



specimen of gennine feeling, supporting itself on the jnslest 
principle ; and it «ill l)e ditTiculi to prixtnce from any of our 
poets a p.iss,is;e written with more be.iuty of expression, 
or more delicacy and elevation of thought. The scene first 
intminned has a seiret connexion with tlii-; and it is ho- 
nourable to the discernment of Massinsjer that he has repre- 
sented thefeilinss of friendship with eqiiid truth and variety 
in the lender sidicilude ol Leonora, and the m.rgnaninious 
propo<Hl (if I'edro. 

Every reader must feel the peculiar charms of the scene 
in wliiili Don John relates toAloiira his red hi^lory, under 
the appearance t'( anolher person. Her strons; curiosity, 
prompted by her love ; the growing conviction of her own 
misconduct ; and the etlect of his discovery, are represented 
in ine liveliest manner; and this is the more remarkable, a> 
Mas«ini;er is not generally happy in the mauHgement of ar- 
tificial meanings and double situations. 

The characters are studiously contrasted, and throw vivid 
liiihts on each other by their opposing qualities. The dignity 
and moderation of the viceroy (till he loses his own con- 
stancv in his supposed misfortunes), show, with increased 
effect ; the unadvised impatience of theiluke : the courageous 
calmness of Don John heightens the otfence of the insulting 
'.emper of Cardcnes, — and the vehemence of Alniira becomes 
more alarmins; through the very checks otfered to it by the 
prudence of Leonora. There is a further contrivance in the 
violence of spirit which marks Cardenes and Almira; that of 
the former, wtiile it indisposes ns towards htiu, maiket tiim 



more liable to the strong impression which ends in (he aban 
donment of his passion; and thus a double facility is created 
for tlie success of Don John. Aliriiia, too, prepares lor her 
own change of mind, thr.mgh the very intemperance with 
which she declares her fixed resolution. This is one of the 
familiar expedients of Massinger. Constancy does not long 
dwell with the outrageous assertion of it, and the practised 
reader know>", from the very first act, that Cardenes, thus 
violently favoinetl and indiscreetly proclaimed, is certainly 
to be abandiini d. 

I will not dwell on the maxim upon which this Play is 
fo mded, that women have no reason for their " love or 
bate." If Its severity is complained of, let it be remembered 
that Massin':;er exposes, with much more frequency, the 
wrong conduct of the men, and that he seems to take a plea- 
sure in punishing ihem for their unreasonable suspicions and 
jealousies. 'J'liis has been already observed in '/'he Bond- 
man. Notwithstanding this 'lirterence in It eir object, the 
two Plays have several points of resemblance. The reader 
will remember Cleora's resolution to marry a supposed slave 
— the corislernaii'n of her friends — the reservation of the 
true character of I'isander, and the cdect of its final disclo- 
sure. The peculi.irity of ihe present Play, istl.e double ap- 
pearance of Don John, and Almira's whimsical rejection 
and unciuiscious acceptance of the same person; and this iti 
ooutrived with equal skill and novelty of etfect. 

Dr. Ireland 



THE BASHFUL LOVEE. 



TnK Bashful Loveii,] This Tragi-comedy wos licensed by the Master of the Revels, May 9t!i, 1636 
It is the last of Massinger's pieces which are come down to us, though he continaed to write for the stage 
to the period of his death, which happened about four years after tl)e date of the present Play. 

Tlie plot is wild but pleasing. It probably originated from some forgotten collection of Italian tales ; 
where the events bore nearly the same jiroportion to the true history of that rountry, as the circumstances 
recorded by the supposititious Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretens.is bear to what actually took place in the 
wars of Troy. 

The Baslijul Lover was extremely well received at its first appearance : it continued to be a favourite, 
and was " often acted," the old copy says, " by his late INIajesty's servants, with great applause." It was 
performed at Biackfriars. 

There is but one edition of this Play, which, with The Guardian and Bashful Lover, was printed ia 
octavo, by II. Mosely, 1655. In the notes to The Guardian, it is spoken of as a quarto: this is an oversight 
occasioned by the habitual use of tlie word in the preceding pages. 



PROLOGUE. 

This from cur author, far from all offence 
To abler writers, or the audience 
Met here to judge his poem. He, by me. 
Presents his service, with such modesty 
As well becomes his weakness. 'Tis no crime, 
He hopes, as we do, in this curious time. 
To be a little diffident, when we are 
To please so many with one bill of fare. 
Let others, building on their merit, say 
You're in the wrong, if you move not that 
way 



Which they prescribe you ; as you were bound to 

learn 
Their maxims, but incapable to discern 
'Twixt truth and falsehood. Our's had' rather be 
Censured by some for too much obsequy. 
Than tax'd of self- opinion. If he hear 
That his endeavours thrived, and did appear 
Worthy your view (though made so by your grace, 
With some desert), he in another place 
Will thankfully report, one leaf of bays 
Truly conferr'd upon this work, will raise 
More pleasure in him, you the givers free. 
Than garlands ravish 'd from the virgin tree. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



GoNzAGA, duke of Mantua. j^ 

LoHENZo, ditke 0/ Tuscany. 

TlBEnxi, prince of Parma. 

FAnNEzi:, cousin to Gonzaga. 

Alonzo, the ambassador, nephew to Lorenzo. 

Manfiioy, a lord of Mantua. 

OcTAvm. formeiiii general to Gonzaga, 6iU now in exile. 

GoTHRio, his servant. 

Galeazzo, a MiVmeseprince, disguised under the name 

of Honensio. 
Julio, hi$ attendant. 



Florentine Ojfflceri, 



PiSANO, 

Mahtino, 

Captains. 

Milanese Ambassador. 

Doctor. 

Matilda, daughter to Gonzaga. 

Beatrice, her waiting woman. 

JMahia, daughter to O day \o, disguised at a page, and 

Culled Ascanio. 
Waiting Women. 

Captains, Soldiers, Guard, Attendants, Page,S;e. 



SCENE, partly in Mantua, and partly in the duchy. 



46$ 



THE BASHFUL LOVEIl. 



[Act I 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — Mantua. A Space he/ore the Palace. 
' Enter HoRTENSio and Julio. 

Jul. I dare not cross you, sir, but I would gladly 
(Provided you allow it) render you 
My personal atfendanoe. 

Hort. You shall better 
Discharf;;e the duty of an honest servant, 
In follovvinp^ my instructions, which you have 
Received already, than in questioning 
What my intents are, or upon what motives 
My stay's resolved in Mantua : believe me. 
That servant overdoes, that's too officious ; 
And, in presumin;^- to direct your master, 
You argue him of weakness, .and 3'ourself 
Of arrogance and im[)ertinence. 

Jul. I have done, sir ; 
But what my ends are 

Hort. Honest ones, I know it. 
I have my bills of exchange, and all provisions 
Entrusted to you ; you have shown yourself 
Just and discreet, what would yon more? and 3'et, 
To satisf}' in some part your curious care. 
Hear this, and leave me : 1 dfsire to be 
Obscured ; and, as I have demean'd mvself 
These six months past in Mantua, I'll continue 
Unnoted and unknown, and, at the best. 
Appear no more than a gentleman, and a stranger 
That travels for his pleasure. 

Jitl. With your pardon, 
This hardly will hold weight, though I should swear 

it, 
With your noble friends and brother. 

Hort. You mav tell them. 
Since you will be my tutor, there's a rumour. 
Almost cried up into a cwtainty, 
Of wars with Horence, and that I'm determined 
To see the service : whatever I went forth. 
Heaven prospering my intents, I would come home 
A soldier, and a good one. 

Jul. Should you get 
A captain's place, nay, colonel's, 'twould add little 
To what you are ; few of your rank will follow 
That dangerous profession. 

Hort. 'lis the noblest. 
And monarchs honour'd in it: but no more. 
On my displeasure. 

[Exit. 

Jill. Saints and angels guard you ! 

Hort. A war, indeed, is threaten'd, nay, expected, 
From Florence ; but it is 'gainst rae already 
Proclaim'd in Mantua ; I find it here, 
No foreign, but intesiine war: I have 
Defied myself*, in giving up my reason 



• / have 

Dcfitd myself, &c.l So the old copy : for defied, tlie last 
editor read- rfes^rojycdmv self. It is evident tiMt lie did not 
enter into tlic sf i.st- iil' iiis anllior, who is describinj; a man 
in a slate of warlare wilh Iviinself. Leadint; a man into 
captiviti/ after he is destroyed, is not preci?ely tlie way in 
which Mas.-iii^ei usually proceeds, whatever may be thought 
of it by Mr. M. Masou. 



A slave to passion, and am led captive 
Before the battle's f mght : I fainted, when 
I onlv saw mine enemy, and yielded, 
Before that I was charged ; and, though defeated, 
I dare not sue for mercy. Like Ixion, 
I look on Juno, and feel mv heart turn cinders 
With an invisible fire ; and yet, should she 
Deign to appear clothed in a various cloud 
The majesty of the substance is so sacred, 
I durst not clasp the shadow. I behold her 
With adoration, feast my eye, while all 
Mv other senses starve , and, oft frequenting 
The place which she makes happy with her pre- 
sence, 
I never yet had power with tongue or pen 
To move her to compassion, or make known 
What 'tis I languish for; yet I must gaze still, 
Though it increase my flame : — however, I 
Much more than fear I am observed, and censured 
For bold intrusion. \_Wulkshy. 



Enter Beatrice and Ascanio. 

Beat. Know you, boy, that gentleman? 

Asc. 'Who ? monsieur melancholy 1 hath not your 
honour 
Mark'd him before?- 

Beat. I have seen him often wait 
About the princess' lodgings, but ne'er guess'd 
What his designs were. 

Asc. No ! what a sigh hebreath'd now ! 
Many such will blow up the roof: on my small 

credit 
There's gunpowder in them. 

Beat. How, crack ! gunpowder? 
He's flesh and blood, and devils only carry 
Such roaring stuff about them : you cannot prove 
He is or spirit or conjuror. 

Asc. That I grant, 
But he's a lover, and that's as bad ; their sighs 
Are like petards, and blow all. up. 

Beat. A lover ! 
I have been in love myself, but never found yet 
That it could work such strange efi'ects. 

Asc. True, madam, 
In vvomen*it cannot ; for when they miss the en- 
joying 
Of their full wishes, all their sighs and heigh-hos. 
At the worst, breed tympanies, and these are cured 

too 
With a kiss or two of their saint, when he appears 
Between a pair of sheets : but with us men 
The case is otherwise. 

Beat. You will be breec'n'd, boy. 
For your physical maxims. — But how are you 

assured 
He is a lover? 

Asc. \Vho,T ? 1 know with whom too, 
But that is to be whisper'd. [Whispers 

Beat. How the princess ! 
The unparallel'd Matilda! some proof of it ; 
1 1. y.\ for my intelligence. 



Scene T.] 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



469 



Asc. Let me kiss 
Your honour's liaiul ; 'nvas ever fair, but now 
Beyond com]ia!ison. 

Beat. I guess the reason. 
A givin;;- band is siill (air to the receiver. 

Asc. Vour ladyship's in the right ; but to the pur- 

He is my client, and pays his fees as duly 

As ever usurer did in a bad c;iuse 

To his man of law ; and y»t I get, and take them 

Both easily and honestly : all the service 

I do him, is, to give him notice when 

And where ihe princess will aiijiear ; and that 

I hope's no treason. Jfyou miss him, when 

She goes to the vesper or the matins, hang me; 

Or wlien she takes the air, be sure to find him 

Near her coach, at her going forth, or coming back : 

But if she walk, he's ravish'd. I have seen him 

Smell out htr footing like ahme-hound, and nose it* 

From all tht- rest of her tram. 

Beat. \et 1 ne'er saw him 
Present her a jjetiiioii. 

Asc. Nor e'er shall : 
He only sees her, sighs, and sacrifices 
A tear or two — then vanishes. 

Beat, 'i is most strange : 
What a sad asjiect he wears ! but I'll make use oft. 
The princess is much trouhled with the threats 
That come from Florence ; 1 will bring her to him, 
The novelty may afl'oid her sport, and help 
To purge deep mehnicholy. boy, can you stay 
Your client liere for the third part of an hour } 
I have some ends in't. 

Asc, Stay him, madam ! fear not; 
The present receipt of a round sum of crowns, 
And that will draw most gallants from their prayers, 
Cannot drag him from me. 

Beat. See you do. \^Exit. 

Asc, Ne'er doubt me. 
I'll put him out of hisdream. Good morrow, signior. 

Hort. My liitle friend, good morrow. Hath the 
princess 
Slept well to-iiighi 1 

AiC. 1 hear not from her women 
One murmur to ihe contrary. 

Hort. Heaven be praised for't ! 
Does she go to church this morning? 

Asa, Iroth, i know not; 
I keep no key of her devotion, signior. 

Hort. Got-s fch.e abroad? pray tell me. 

Asc. 'lis thought rather 
She is resolved to keep her chamber. 

Hort. All me ! 

Asc, Why do you sigh? if that you l^ve a busi- 
ness 
To be dis[iatcird in court, show ready money, 
You shall tinil those that will prefer it foryou. 

Hort. Business ! can any man have business but 
To see her, then admire her, and pray for her, 
She being composed of goodness 1 for myself, 
I find it a degree of happiness 
But to be near her, and 1 think I pay 
A strict religious vow, when I behold her ; 
And that's all my ambition. 

Asc. 1 believe you : 



— and ni sc it.] the old copy reads 



knowt it. I li.ive lilile do-ibt but tliat llie former was Alas- 
«inger's woid ; ilii- misl;ikc piobably oriijiiiated at the press 
from a similarity of sound. ..o 



Yet, she being ahsen', you mav spend souie houri 
With profit and delight too. After dinner, 
I lie duke gives audience to a rough amhass 
\\ horn vet 1 never saw, nor heard his title, 
f.m|iloy'd from Florence ; I'll help you to a place 
Where you shall see and hear all. 

Hort. Tis not worth 
My observation. 

AiC. What think vou of 
An excellent < omedy to he pre>^ented 
For Ills entertainment ? lie that peiin'd it is 
The poet of (he time, and all the ladies 
(I mean ihe amoious and learned ones), 
Excejit the princess, will be there to grace it. 

llcrt. What's ihat to me? without her all is 
nothing ; 
I'he light that shines in court Cimmerian darkness; 
I will to bed again, and there contemplate 
On her perfections. 

Re-enter Beaihice with Matilda, and twc Waiting 
Women. 

Asc. Slav, sir, see? the princess, 
Beyond our hopes. 

Hii>t.. 1 ake tliat : — as Moors salute 
The rising sun with joyful superstiiion, 

I could fall (low n and worship. O my heart ! 

Like \'Lj lie breaking ihrough an envious cloud. 
Or soinethnig which no simile can express. 
She shows to me : a reverent fear, but blended 
With wonder and amazement, does possess me; 
Now glut thyself, my famish'd eve! 

]'c<it. I'hat's he, 
Ant please your excellence. 

1 It'um. Observe his posture. 
But w iili a (piarter-look. 

2 Wiiin. ^'oureye fix'd on him 
Will breed astonishment. 

Mutil. A comely gentleman 1 
I w ould not cpiestion your relation, lady, 
Yet faintly can believe it. How he eyes me. 
Will he not Sjieak ? 

Beat, "^'our excellence hath deprived him 
Of speech and motion. 

Matil. ' I is most strange. 

Asc. 'i'hese tits 
Are usual with him. 

Mutil. Is it not, Ascanio, 
A ))ersonaied folly? or he a statue*? 
If it be, it is a masterpiece ; for man 
I cannot think him. 



* Matil. /« it tint, Ascanio, 

A persomiled folly T or he a statue ?"] So the old copy; 
tlie iiioikrii edilois le.id — Or is he a statue? An inlerpo- 
latioi) iieulicr w.irranted by tlie sense, nor llie style of Mas- 
singer anil hiscoiit' inporaries. BiK this ignorance ot ancient 
phrateolusiy still afflicis Mr. M. Mason, 'in The Custom oj 
the Country, ArnoUlosays: — 

" And I fiirtot to like hci-. 
And ytad I was deceived." 
Upon which he ob.^trves that " the word ylad is here used 
as a verb, and means rejoice.'" — Comments, p. 52. 

Not so : the espression is elliptical; And 1 am glad, &c., 
a mode of writing which occnrs in almost every page of our 
ancient dramatists. Thus; 

" I lived 

Too happy in my holiday trim of glory, 
kudcouited with felicity." 
This is wrong, say llie commentators; it should he— And 
sportfd with tvlicity. .^las! no: it is perleclly lipht; and 
at lull, and, in llie langnage of the present day, is — And wa* 
courted by leliciiy. l note this, to repress, if it be possiUI* 
the tem;:iity ot inexpciieuce. 



r: 



THE BASHFUL LOVFR. 



[Act I. 



Beat. For your sport, vouchsafe him 
A little conference. 

Mcitil. In compassion rather : 
For sliould lie love me as you say (though hope- 
less), 
It should not be returnM with scorn ; that were 
An mliunranity, wliicii my birth nor honour 
(^ould [iiivilege, were they p^reater. Now I perceive 
He li;is life anil motion in him ; to whom, lady, 
Pays he that duty? 

[Hortensin, bowing, offers, to go off. 

Beat. Sans doubt, to yourself. 

Maiil. And whither goes he now? 

Asc. i'o his private lodging, 
But to what end 1 know not; this is all 
I ever noted in him. 

Matil. Call him back : 
In pity 1 stand bound to couiieel him, 
Howe'er I am denied, though I were willing, 
To e^se his sufferings. 

Asc. Signior, the princess 
Commands you to attend her. 

Hurt. How ! the princess ! 
Am I hetray'd ? 

Asc. What a lump of flesh is this ! 
You are betray 'd, sir, to a better fortune 
'Ihan you durst ever hope for. What a Tantalus 
Do you make yourself ! the flying fruit stays for 

you, 
And tlie water that you long'd for, rising up 
Above your lip, do you refuse to taste it ? 
RIove iasrer, sluggish camel, or I'll thrust 
This goad in your breech ; had I such a promising 

beard, 
I should need the reins, not spurs. 

Maid. You may come nearer. 
Why do you shake, sir? If 1 flatter not 
Myself, there's no deformity about me, 
Noi any part so monstrous to beget 
An ague in you. 

Hot I. It jiroceeds not, madam, 
From guilt, but reverence. 

Malil. I believe you, sir: 
Have you a suit to me? 

Hoit. Your excellence 
Is wondrous fair. 

MatU. I thank your good opinion. 

Hort. And J beseech you that I may have license 
To kneel to you. 

Malil. A suit I cannot cross. 

Hoit. I liumbly thank your excellence. [Kneels. 

MatU. But wliat, 
As you are prostrate on your knee before me, 
Is your petition? 

Hort. I have none, great princess. 

Matil. Do you kneel for uothiiig ? 

Hort. Yes, I have a suit. 
But such a one, as, if denied, will kill me. 

Matil. Take comfort ; it must be of some strange 
nature. 
Unfitting you to ask, or me to grant, 
If I refuse it. 

Hort. It is, madam 

Matil. Out with't. 

Hort. Tiiat I may not offend you, this U all, 
Wiien 1 presume to look on you. 

Asc. A flat eunuch ! 
To look on her ? I should desire myself 
To move a little further, 

Malil. Only that I 



Hort. And I beseech you, madam, to believe 
I never did yet with a wanton eye ; 
Or cherish one lascivious wish beyond it. 

Beat, ^'on 1! never make good courtier, or bo 
In grace wiih ladies. 

1 Worn. Or us waiting women, 
]f that he your nit utlru. 

2 Wow. lie's no gentleman. 
On my virginity, it is apparent: 

Wy tailor has more boldness; nay, my shoemaker 
Will fumble a liitle further, he could not have 
The length of my foot else. 

Matil. Only to look on me ! 
Ends your ambition there ? 

Hort. It does, great lady. 
And that confined too, and at fitting distance : 
The fly that plays too near tiie flame burns in it*. 
As I behold the sun, the stars, the temples, 
I look on you, and wish it were no sin 
Should I adore you. 

Matil. Come, there's something more in't ; 
And smce that you will make a gijddess of me. 
As such a one, I'll tell you, I desire not 
'J"he meanest altar raised up to mine honour 
'J"o be pulled down : I can accept from you. 
Be your condition ne'er so far bt-neath me. 
One grain of incense with devotion oflfer'd. 
Beyond all perfuines,-or Sabffian spices. 
By one that proudly thinks he merits in it : 
I know you love me. 

Hort. Next to heaven, madam, 
And with as pure a zeal. That, we behold 
With the eyes of contemplation, but can 
Arrive no nearer to it in this life : 
But when that is divorced, my soul shall serve your*. 
And witness my affection. 

Matil Pray you, rise; 
But wait my further pleasure. 

Enter Faiineze and Uberti. 

Farn. I'll present you. 
And give you proof 1 am your friend, a true one ; 
And ia my pleading for you, teach the age. 
That calls, erroneously, friendship but a name. 
It is a substanee. — IMadam, I am bold 
To trench so far upon your privacy, 
As to desire my friend (let not that wrong him. 
For he's a worthy one) may have the honour 
To kiss your hand. 

Matil. His own worth challenges 
A greater favour. 

Farn. Your ackowledgment 
Confirms it, madam. If you look on him 
As he's built up a man, without addition 
Of fortune's liberal favours, wealth or titles, 
He doth deserve no usual entertainment : 
But, as he is a ])rince, and for your service 
Hath left fair Parma, that acknowledges 
No other lord, and, uncompell'd, exposes 
His person to the dangers of thet war, 



. ' The fly that plays too near the flame burns in it.] 
Cresset has madu a beaiitit'iil use of this idea: 

'J'el, par sa penle naturtlle, 

Par mw erreur toujours nouvelle, 

QiiDii/uil semlile changer soti cuura, 

Aufour (ii-laflamme mortelle 

Lk papittoii, revient toujimrs. 
+ His persiiu in the dati^ers of the war,} I have insrjted 
the article, wliicli lestoies the metre. Paineze evidently 
alludes to the i:ar with which they were uow threatened b) 
the Florentines, 



Scene TT.] 



THE BASHFUL LOVKR. 



471 



Readv to break in storms upon our heads ; 
In nnble tlinnld'ulnpss you miiy vouchsafe him 
Nearpr respect, and sufh gruce as may nourish, 
Not kill, his amorous ho[ies. 

Maiil. Cousin, vou iviiow 
I am not the disposer of myself. 
The (liilce ray father clinllen^es lliat power : 
Yet thus mud) I dare promise; prince Uberti 
Shall find the seed of service that he sows 
Falls not oil barren <;round. 

f/fter. For this higii favour 
I am your creature, luid profess 1 owe yoii 
Whatever 1 call iniiie. [They walk aside. 

Hort. This threat lord is 
A suitor to tiie princess. 

Atic. True, lie is so. 

Hort. Fame gives him out too for a brave com- 
mander. 

Asc. And in it does him but deserved right; 
The iluKe hath made him general of his horse 
On that assurance. 

Hoit. And the lord Farneze 
Pleads for him, as it seems. 

Aic. "I'is too apparent: 
And, tiiis consider'd, give me leave to ask 
What hope have you, sir? 

Hort. 1 may still look on her, 
Howe'er he wear the garland. 

Asc. A thin diet, 
And will not feed you fat, sir. 

Uher. 1 rejoice, 
Rare princess, that you are not to be won 
liy carpet-courtship, but the sword ; with this 
Steel pen I'll write on Florence' helm how much 
I can, and dare do for you. 

Matil. ' Tis not (juestioa'd. 
Some private business of mine own disposed of, 
I'll meet you in the presence. 

Uber. liver your servant. 

[Exeunt Uberti and Farneze. 

Malit. Now, sir, to you. You have observed, I 
doubt not. 
For lovers are sharp-sighted, to what purpose 
This prince solicits me ; and yet I am not 
So taken with his worth, but that 1 can 
Vouchsafe you further parle*. The first command 
That I'll impose upon you, is to hear 
And follow my good counsel: I am not 
Offended that you love me ; persist in it, 
But love me virtuously; such love may spur you 
To noble undertakings, which achieved. 
Will raise vou into name, preferment, honour : 
Tor all which, though you ne'er enjoy my person 

For that's impossible), you are indebted 
'.'o your high aims : visit me when you please, 
. do allow it, nor will blush to own you. 
So you confine yourselfto what you promise, 
As my virtuous servant. 

Beut. Farewell, sir I you have 
An uiiexj)ected cordial. 

Asc. ftlay it work well! [Exeunt all but Hort, 

Hort. Your hce — yes, so she said, may spur you 
to 
Brave nndfrtahnigs : adding this. You may 
Visii me when you pleui,e. Is this allow'd me, 
.■^nd any act within the power of man 



• Vouchsafe you further parte.] So the old copy, and 
rii;l>lly. 1'lie iiioUerii tditurs have parley, which spuils the 
vefie. 



Impossible to be effected? No: 
1 will break through all ojipositions that 
RJiiy stop ine in mv lull career to honour : 
Ami, borrowing strength to do fiom^ her high fa- 
vour. 
Add something to Alcides' greatest labour. [Exit. 



SCENE II. — The same. A S:ateRoom. in the Palace. 

Enter Go^zAGA, UBEmi, Faiineze, MANFnov, and 

Altenduuls. 

Gon. This is your place ; and, were it in our 

power. 
You s-hould have greater honour, prince of Parma; 
'i'he rest know theirs. Let some attend with care 
On the ambassador, and let my daughter 
Be present at his audience. Ktach a chair. 
We'll do all fit respects ; and, pray you, put on 
\our milder looks; you are in a place where 

frowns 
Are no prevailing agents. 

Enter at one door Alonzo and Attendunls : Ma- 

•IILDA, BFArlUCE, ASCAMO, lluUltNsIO, Uud 

Wading Women at the other. 

Asc. I have seen 
More than a wolf, a Gorgon* ! [Sux)o«s. 

Gnu. What's the matter ? 

Miitil. A page of mine is fallen into a swoon ; 
Look to him carefully. [Ascanio is carried out, 

Gon. Now, when you please. 
The cause that brought you hither? 

Alon. The protraction 
Of my dispatch forgotten, from Lorenzo, 
The Tuscan duke, thus much to you, Gonzaga, 
The duke of Alantua. By me, his nephew, 
He does salute you fairly, and entreats 
(A word not suitable to his power and greatness) 
You would consent to tender that which he 
Unwillingly must force, if contradicted. 
Ambition, in a private man a vice. 
Is in a prince a virtuef. 

Gon. To the purpose ; 
These ambages are impertinent. 

Alon. He tiemands 
The fair Matilda, for I dare not take 
From her perfections, in a noble way ; 
And in creating her the comfort] of 
His royal bed, to raise her to a height 
Her flattering hopes could not aspire, where sne 



■ * Asc. / have xeen 

More llian a ivulf, a Gorgon!] It may be jtut necessary 
to objervu, tlidt tlie tiilit ut a wolf was, ancieiilly, stippcised 
todt-piive a person of speech; lliat of a Uoigou, of niutiua 
ami Ijie. 

t Js in a prince a virtue.] So the moderis editions. In 
the (ilil copy, ii is the virtue — meaning, perliaps, as M ssin 
ger expresses it on another occasion, (he vii-tue KUT 

X And in creating her /Ac comfort of 

his royal hid.] Foi comfort, C^xeter and Mr. M. Masou 
rea 1 consort, as ii>iial. One uonlil lliink, fnun the wnil'iire 
maiiit liiuki ;fg.iinst tins good ol<i word, wliicli is lliiK perpe- 
tually CiWnpied, lli.il ilu- mani.iae bed is \Ki> comfortable at 
pre.-eui ihaii it anciently h.is: however Ihi.- be, 1 ha\e con- 
siaiitly risuiied it. 

In the next line, lliey liave iim-rtert to alter iigpiri', thongh 
the word is tonslaiiily used hy oiir old poets williont the pre- 
pusilioa, and though it ininres.ur r.itlier destro>s Uie uieirel 



«r« 



THE BASHFUL LOVEll. 



[Act I 



With wonrlpr shall be gazed upon, and live 
TliP envy of her st-x. 

Gem. Suppose this <rr:inted. 

Ubet. Or, if denied, what fallows? 

Alon. Present war, 
With all extremities the conqueror can 
Inflict iifxin the vanipiish'd. 

Uhei: Grant nie license 
To answer this defiance. What intelli-rence 
Holds your proud master with the ivill of heaven*, 
That, ere i'!ie uncertain die of war he thrown, 
Ho dares assure himself the victory' 
Are his unjust invadinp^ arms of fire ? 
Or those we put, oti in defence of ri<;ht, 
Like chalf, to be consumed in the encounter ? 
I look- oti your dimensions, and Hud not 
Mine own of lesser size; the blood that fills 
My veins, as hot as yours ; my sword as sharp ; 
My nerves ofecpial stren-jth ; my he,\ri as good ; 
And confident we have the better cause, 
VVby should we fear the trial? 

Farii. You ])resume 
Vou are superior in numbers ; we 
Lay hold upon the surest anchor, virtue : 
Wiiich, when the tempest of the war roars loudest. 
Must prove a strong protection. 

Gon. Two main reasons 
(Secondin<,' those you have already heard) 
Give us encouragement; the duty that 
I owe my inoher-couutry, and the love 
Descending to my daughter. For the first, - 
Should 1 betray her liberty. I deserved 
To have mv name with infamy razed from 
The catalogue of good princes , and 1 should 
Unnattirally forget I am a fat! er. 
If, like a I artar, or for fear or profit, 
1 should consigTi her as a bondwoman, 
To be disposed of at another's pleasure ; 
Her own consent or favour never sued for, 
And mine by force exacted. No, Alonzo, 
She is my only child, my heir; and, if 
A father's eyes deceive me not, the hand 
Of prodigal nature hath given so much to her, 
As, in the furmer age?, kings would rise up 
In her defence, and make her cause their quarrel : 
Nor can she, if that any spark remain 



What intflHsence 



Holds your proud mnster with the will of heaven, &c.] 
Tills liiii' >|)reili, wliicli is cqn.illy jiidiciiins and xiiiiitcd, in- 
vuliiiiturily rei:al» to my mind 'I'he Battle of Sahla, so 
beautifully tninalatcd by ilif late pnifessur of Arabic, whose 
deatb tlie public, no less llian bis puiticular friends, will long 
have caiibc to regret. 

• • • • 

" Make now your c^oic*— Ibc terms we give, 
Desponding victims, bear ; 
Tliese fetters on your hands receive. 
Or ill your hearts tbe spear." 

" And is the conflict o'er," we cried, 
" And lie we at your feet ? 
And dare yon vaunlingly decide 
The fortune we must ineel i" 

• • • « 

The foe advanced : in firm array 

We rushed o'er Sabla's sands. 
And the red sabre niark'd our way 

Aniid«t their yielding bands. ^ 

Then, as Ihey writb'd in death's cold grasp, 
We cried, '' Our choice is made, 

Thvsv hands the sabre's hilt shall clasp, 
Vonr hearts shall have the blade." 
Carlylii's 6' ecituent of Arabian Poetry, p. 2.1. 



To kindle a desire to be possess'd 

Of such a beauty, in our time, want swords 

To u'liard ir safe from violence. 

fhrt. I niiist speak. 
Or I shall burst : now to be silent were 
A kind of blaspheniy ". if such jnirily, 
Such innocence an abstract of perfection. 
The soul of beauty, virtue, in a word, 
A temple of things sacred, should j^'roan under 
The burthen of o])pression, we might 
Accuse the saints, and tax the Powers above us 

Of negligence or injustice. Pardon, .sir, 

A stranger's boldness, and in your mercy call it 
True zeal, not rudeness. In a cause like this, 
Tlie liushaiidm in would change his ploii^hiiig-irons 
To weapons of defence, and leave the earth 
Untill'il, although a general dearth sluiuld follow : 
The student would forswear his book ; the lawyer 
Put oflThis thriving uown, and without pay 
Conclude this cause is to he fought, not pleaded. 
'J'he noinen will turn Amazons, as iheir sex 
In her were wrony'd; and boys write down their 

names 
In the muster-book for soldiers. 

Gon. Take my hand : 
Whate'er vou are. 1 thank you. Hovv areyou call'd ? 
Ilirt. Ilortensio, a JMihmese. 
Gon. I wish 
IMantua had many such. — My lord ambassador, 
Some privacy, if vou [dease; Rlanfiov, vou may 
Partake it, and iidvise us. C'<'.y f"^'' asitle, 

Uher. \)o you know, friend. 
What this man is, or of what country ? 
Font. Neither. 

Uher. I'll (piestion him myself. What are you, sirl 
llort. A gentleman. 
Uher. Iku if there be gradation 
In gentry, as the heralds say, you have 
Been over-bold in the presence of your betters. 
Horl. .My betters, sir! 
Uher. Your betters. As I take it, 
You are no prince. 

Hort. 'lis Ibrtune's gift you were born one; 
I have not heard that glorious title crowns you 
As A reward of virtue- it may be 
The first of your house deserved it, yet his merits 
You can but faintly call your own. 
Maul. Well answer'd. 
Uher. You come up to me. 
Uorl. I would not turn my back 
If you were the duke of Florence, though you 

charged me 
r the head of your troops. 

Uher. Tell me in gentler language, 
Your passionate sjieech induces me to think so. 
Do you love the princess ? 

Hort. Were you mine enemy. 
Your foot upon my breast, sword at my throat, 
Even then I would profess it. The ascent 
To the height of honour is by arts or arms ; 
And if such an unequall'd prize might fall 
On him that did deserve best in defence 
Of this rare princess, in tbe day of battle, 
1 should lead you a way would make your greatness 
Sweat drops of blood to follow. 

Uber. Can your excellence 
Hear this without rebuke from one unknown? 
Is he a rival for a prince? 

Maid. My lord. 
You take that liberty I never gave you. 



Scene II. ] 



THE RASIIFUL LOVKR. 



475 



In justice you sliould sfive encouraiiement 

To liim, or iHiy man, tliat freely offers 

His lite to do me service, not deter liiin ; 

I give no sutl'nijie to it. Grant lie loves me, 

As he professes, how are you wrong'd in it ! 

Would you JMve all men hale me but yourself? 

No more of ths, I pmy you : if this |;entleinan 

Fight for my freedom, in a fit proijortion 

To his desert and (luality, I can 

And will leward him ; yet give you no cause 

Of jealousy or envy. 

Hort. Heavenly lady ! 

Gon. No peace but on such poor and. base condi- 
tions ! 
We will not buy it at that rate : return 
This answer to your master : 'l'iiou!;h we wish'd 
To hold fair ([uarter with him, on surh terms 
As honour would give way to, we are not 
So thunderstruck with the loud voice of war, 
As to iukn .wiedjie him our loril before 
His sword hiith made us vassals: we long since 
Have had inu-lliuence of the unjust grijie 
He j)ur|iosed to lay on us; neiliier aie we 
So unpiovided as you tliinii-, my lord , 
He shall not need to seek us ; we will meet him, 



And prove the fortune of a day, perhaps 
Sooner than he expects. 

A lull. And find repentance, 
When 'tis too late. Farewell. [Exit wtlh FunuM. 

Gon. No, my iMatdda, 
We must not part so. leasts and birds of prey 
To their last gasp defend their brood ; and Florence 
Over ihy father's hre.ist shall march up to thee. 
Before he force aH'eciion. 'J'he arms 
'J'hat thou must put on for us and thyself 
Are [irayers and pure devotion, which will 
lie hesrd, Matilda. RJanfioy, to your trust 
We do give up the ci(v, and my daughter ; [nous. 
On both keep a strong guard : no tears, they are omi- 
O my Oc avio, my tried Octavio 
In all my daiigerj ! now 1 want thy service 
In jiassion recoinp.'iised witii haiiisliment. 
Error of iirinces, who hate virtue when 
She's present* with us, and in vain admire her 
When she is abseiii ! 'lis too late to think on't. 
The wish'd tor time is come, princely Uberti, 
To show your valour : friends being to do, not talk 
All rhetoric i^ fruitless, only this, * 

Fate cannot rob you of deserved applause, 
Whether you wia or lose ia such a cause.' [Exeunt. 



ACT II 



SCEN'E I.— Alanlua. A It.'om in the PaLce. 

Enter IMaiilda, Bkatrice, ujuf Waiting Women. 

Miilil. No matter for the ring I ask'd you for 
The hoy not to be found 1 
Beat. Nor heard of, madam. 

1 JVom. lie hath been sought and searched for, 

house by house. 
Nay, every nook of the city, but to no purpose. 

2 Won. And how he should esca|)e heuce, the 

lord lAIaiifroy 
Bemg so viLiilaiit o'er the guards, appears 
A thing imjiossible. 

Miitil. I never saw liim 
Since he swoon'd in the presence, when my father 
Gave audinnce to the ambassador: but I feel 
A sad miss of him ; on any slight occasion 
He would find out sucli pretty arguments 
'J'o niiike me sp irt, and with such pretty sweetness 
Deliver his opinion, that I must , 

Ingenuously confess his harmless mirth. 
When 1 was most oppress'd with care, wrought 

more 
In the removing oft than music on me. 

Beat. All t please your excellence, I have observed 

hi 111 
Waggishly witty ; yet, sometimes, on the sudden, 
He would be vrry pensive, and then talk 
So feelini^ly of love, as if he liad 
Tasted the hi'ter sweets of 't. 

1 Worn, He would tell, too, 
A pretty tale of a sister, that had been 
Deceived by her sweetheart ; and then weepinj, 

swear 
He woiidei-'d how m6n could be false* 



• Tliis pretty passage cuntams one of tliosc jiuliciuiis an- 
ticloaiioiis in wliicU Massiuger is pcciiUul/ excellent. 



2 Worn. And that 
When he was a knight, he'd he the ladies' champioo 
And travel o'er the world to kill sncliiovera 
As durst play false with their mistresses, 

Matil. I am sure 
I want his company. 

Enter MANpnov. 

Man. There are letters, madam. 
In post come from the duke ; but I am cbarn'ed 
By the careful bringer not to open them 
But in your presence. 

Matil. Heaven preserve my father ! 
Good news, an't be thy will ! 

Man. I'atience must arm you 
Against what's ill. 

Maiil. I'll hear them in my cabinet. [Exeunt. 

SC ENE ir.-r/,e Duchi, of Mantua. Gonzaga'a 
Camp. 

/•'w^er HonTENsio n/jrf AscANio. 

Hort. Why have you left the safety of (he city 
And service of the princess, to partake 
fhe dangers of the camp? and at a time too 
When the armies are in view, and every minute 
The dreadful charge expected. 

Asc. Vou appear 
So far beyond yourself, as you are now, 
Arin'd like a soldier (though I grant your presence 
Was ever gracious), that 1 grow enamour'd 



• Error of princes, who hate virtur, when 

She's preaciit, &c.] 

— I irtutem inrolitmrn odhmis, 
fiiil>'a'aiii ex ocul-s <inccrhmisinviJi. 

But tliis pl.iy hI) nii>b willi cl<i!.MC.ilallusiuU9, apt'y aod ela> 

gaiitly iatroduced. 



474 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act II 



Of ihe profession : in the horror of it 
'I'heie is a kind of majesty. 

Hint. But too liHiivy 
To sit on thy soft shoulders, youth ; retire 
To llje duke's tent, tiiat's guarded. 

Asc. Sir, I come 
To serve you ; kni'.'ht-adventiirers are allow'd 
Tlieir pages, and 1 biinj; a will that shall 
Supply my want of power. 

Hurt. To serve me, boy ! 
I wish, believe it, that 'tweie in my nerves 
To do thee any service ; and thou shalt. 
If 1 survive the fortune of this day, 
13e satisfied 1 am serious. 

A^c. 1 am not 
To be put off so, sir. Sinte you do neglect 
My off'er'd duty, I must use the power 
I bring along with me, that may command you : 
You have seen this ring — 

Hort. Made rich by being worn 
Upon the princess' finger. 

Asc. 'J'is a favour 
To you, by me sent from her : view it better ; 
Kut why coy to receive itl 

Hort. I am unworthy 
Of such a blessing- ; I have done notliing yet 
That may deserve it ; no commander's blood 
Of the adverse party have yet died my sword 
Drawn out in her defence. 1 must not take it. 
This wer° a triumph for me when I had 
Made Florence' duke my prisoner, and compell'd 

him 
To kneel for mercy at her feet. 

Asc. 'Twas sent, sir. 
To put you in mind whose cause it is you fight for ; 
And, as 1 am her creature, to revenge 
A wrong tome done. 

Hort. Hy what man? 

Asc. Alonzo. 

Hort. The ambassador? 

Ai-c. 'I"lic same. 

Hiirl. Let it suffice, 
1 know him hy his armour and his horse, 

And if we meet \^Truinpets si'iinrf.] — 1 am cut off: 

the ahirum 
Command^ me hence : sweet youth, fall off. 

Ai,c. I must not ; 
You are too noble to receive a wound 
Upon your back, and, following close behind you, 
1 am secure, though 1 could wish my bosom 
Were your defence. 

Hort, 'J'hy kindness will undo thee. \_Exeiint. 



SCENE III. — The same. Lorenzo's Camp. 
£»i/er Lorenzo, Alonzo, Pisano, and Mariino. 

Lor. We'll charge the main battalia, fall you 
Upon the van ; preserve your troojis entire 
To force the rear : lie dies that breaks his ranks 
Till all be ours, and sure. 

Pis. 'lis so proclaim'd. \^Eieunt. 

Fighting and Alarum. Enier IIouiENsio, Ascanio, 
and Ai.o.vzo. 

Hurt. 'Tis he, Ascanio : — Stand 

Alon. 1 never shuim'd 
A single opposition ; but tell me 
Why in the battle, of all men, thou hast 
Made choice of me '* 



Hint. Look on this yotith ; his cause 
Sits on my sword. 

Alon. 1 know him not. 

Hort. I'll help 
Your memory. [They fight. 

Asc. \\ hat have I done? I am doubtful 
To whom to wish the victory ; for, still 
My resolution >vaveiing, I so love 
The enemy that wrouii'd me, that I cannot 
Without repentance wish success to him 
Tliat seeks to do me riglit. — [.-ilonzo J\tUs.'\ — Alas! 

he's fall'n ! 
As you are gentle, hold, sir ! or, if I want 
Power to persuade so far, I conjme you 
My her loved name I am sent from. 

HorL 'lis a charm 
Too strong to be resisted : lie is yours. 
Yet, why you should make suit to save tbat life 
Which you so late desired should be cut off 
For injuries received, begets mv wonder. 

Asc. Alas! we foolish, spleenful boys would have 
We know not what ; I have some private reasons. 
But Jiow not to be told. 

Hort. Shall 1 take him prisoner ? 

Asc. By no means, sir ; 1 will not save his life 
To rob him of his honour: when you give. 
Give not by halves. One short word, and I follow. 

[ Exit llortensio. 
IMy lord Alonzo, if vou have received 
A benefit, and would know to whom you owe it, 
Remember what vour entertainment was 
At Old Octavio's house, one you call'd friend. 
And how you did return it. [Exit. 

Alon. I remember 
I did not well ; but it is now no time 
To think upon't ; my wounded honour calls 
For rejiaration ; I must (|ueiich my fury 
For this disgrace, in blood, and some shall smart 



for't. 



[Exit. 



SCENE IV.— The same. A Forest. 

Alarum continued. Enter Uberti, and Farnezs 

uonuded. 

Fa7-n. O prince Uberti, valour cannot save us ; 
The body of our army's pierced and broken. 
The wings are routed, and our scatter'd troops 
Not to be rallied up. 

Uher. 'Tis yet some comfort 
The enemy must say we were not wanting 
In courage or direction ; and we may 
Accuse the Powers above as partial, when 
A gooi'i cause, well defended too, must suffer 
For want of fortune. 

Farn. All is lost; the duke 
Too far engaged. 1 fear, to be brought off: 
Three times 1 did attempt his rescue, but 
With odds was beaten back ; only the stranger, 
I speak It to my ^h:lme, still follow'd him. 
Cutting his way ; but 'tis beyond my hopes 
Ihat either should return. 

Uler. That noble ^tranger, 
Whom I in my jiroud vanity of greatness 
As one unknown contemn'd, when 1 was thrown 
Out of my saddle by the great duke's lance, 
Horsed me again, in Sj)i:e of all that made 
Fvt'sistance ; and then whisper'd in mine ear. 
Fight hrinelu, ]>riiice Uberti, tliete's noway else 
To the fair Muiilda'sjovour. 

Farn. 'I'was done nobly. 



SctWE v.] 



THE liASHFUL LOVKR. 



475 



Uber. In yoii, my bosom-friend, I had call'd it 
noble : 
But sucli a courtesy from a rival merits 
The highest attribute. 

Enter HoRTENSio and Gonzaga. 

Farn. Stand on vour guard, 
We are pursued. 

Vbei: Preserved ! wonder on wonder. 

Farn, The duke in safety ! 

Gon. Pay your thanks, Farneze, 
To this brave man, if I mav call him so 
Whose acts were n:ore ilian human. If thou art 
My better anoel, from my infancy 
Desit^n'd to ouanl me, like thyself appear, 
For sure tbou'rt more than mortal. 

Hort. No, great sir, 
A weak and sinful man; though I have done you 
Some prosperous service that hath found your 

fjivour, 
I am lost to myself : but lose not you 
The offer'd opportunity to delude 
The hot-pur.suing- enemy ; these woods, 
Nor the dark veil of night, cannot conceal you, 
If you dwell lonsj here. You may rise again, 
But I am fallen i'orever. 

Farn. Rather borne up 
To the supreme sphere ot honour. 

Uber. 1 confess 
My life your gitt. 

Gtm. My liberty. 

Uber. You have snatch'd 
The wreath of c<>n(]uest (ram the victor's head, 
And do alone, in scorn of Lorenzo's fortune, 
Though \vv are slaved, by true heroic valour 
Deserve a triuiiipli. 

Gon. From whence then proceeds 
This ])Oor dejection ? 

Hort. In one suit I'll tell you, 
Whiih 1 beseech vou grant : — I loved your daughter, 
But how ? as begf;ars in their wounded fancy 
Hope to be monarchs : I long languish'd for her, 
But did receive no cordial, but what 
Despair, my rough j physician, prescribed me. 
At length her goodness and compassion found it; 
And, whereas I expected, and with reason. 
The distance and disparity consider'J 
Between her birth and mine, she would contemn me, 
I'he princess gave me comfort. 

Gon. In what measure? 

Hort. She did admit me for iier knight and,servant. 
And spurr'd me to do something in tiiis battle, 
Fought for her liberty, that might not blemish 
So fair a i'avour. 

Gon. This you have perform 'd 
To the height of admiration. 

Uber. 1 subscribe to't. 
That am your rival. 

Hort. S'ou are charitable ; 
But how sliort of my li0|)es, nay, the assurance 
Of those achievements which my love and youth 
Alreailv held acconii)lish'd, this day's fortune 
Must sadly answer. What I did, she gave me 
The st length to do ; lier piety preserved 
Her father, and her gratitude for the dangers 
Y'ou threw yourself into for her defence, 
Protec'ed you by me her instrument ; 
But when I came to strike in mine own cause. 
And to do something so remarkable. 
That should at my return command her thanks 



And gracious entertainment, then, alas ! 
1 fainted like a coward ; I made a vow, too, 
(And it is register'd), ne'er to ])resume 
To come into her presence if 1 brought not 
Her fears and dangers bound in fetters to her, 

Which now's impossible. Hark ! the enemy 

Makes his approaches : save yourselves ; this only 

Deliver to her sweetness ; 1 have done 

INIy poor endeavours, and ]>ray her not repent 

Her goodness to me. i\Iay vou live to serve her, 

This loss recover'd, with a happier fate ! 

And make use of this sword : arms 1 abjure, 

And conversation of men ; I'll seek out 

Some unfrequented cave, and die love's martyr. 

' [E.t»t. 

Gon, Follow him. 

Uber. 'Tis in vain ; his nimhle feet 
Have borne him from my sight. 

Gon. I suffer for him. 

Farn. We share in it, but must not, sir, forget 
Your means of safety. 

Uber. lu the war I have served you. 
And to the deatii will follow you. 

Gon. 'Tis not fit, 

We must divide ourselves. My daughter 

If I retain yet* 

A sovereign's power o'er thee, or friend's with you, 
Do, and dispute not ; by my example cliange 
Your habits: as 1 thus put off my purple, 
Ambition dies ; this garment of a shej)lierd. 
Left here by chance, will serve ; in lieu of it, 
I leave this to the owner. Raise new forces, 
And meet me at St. Leo's fort ; mv (laughter, 
As 1 commanded Manfroy, there will meet us. 
The city cannot Iiold out, we must part : 
Farewell — thy hand. 

Farn. You still shall have my heart. [Exeunt 



SCENE V. 



-The same. Another part of the 
Forest. 



Enter Lorenzo, Alonzo, PisANO,MAnTiNo, Captains 
and Soldiers. 

Lor, The day is ours, though it cost dear ; yet 'tis 
not 
Enough to get a victory, if we lose 
The true use of it. We have hitherto 
Held back your forward swords, and in our fear 
Of ambushes, deferr'd tiie wish 'd reward 
Due to your bloody toil : but now yive freedom. 
Nay, license to your fury and revenge •, 



• U'e must divide ourselves. My daughter 

7/ / retain yet 

A soveri-iyns power o'er thee,&c.) The <'M cnpy.^which 
is failtiliilly followed by Coxeter, with llie exception uf iiiit- 
priiiling«o< for yet, reads, 

H'e must divide ourselves. 
My duviihtfryif I reta n yet 
A sovereiyn's /imver a er thee, &c. 
Mr. M. Mason oiiiiis 'My daiiyhier, wliiih he presnmpto- 
oiisly says tiie last editor inserted by iiii-lake ; ihe mistake, 
liowever, if it be one, is, as ihe readi-r now sees of an older 
date, (n die sixth line, lie veiitnres on anc.llu r improve- 
inent, and for Ambition dir.i, prints Ambition's dyel 
" wliich," he continues, " is ihe name flotiz ma pnelically 
gives his purple." He is wrong in bolii instmccs. The ex- 
clamation, My dauyhler, shows that slie was iippermo.'t in 
Gon/.a<;a'sthoni:lils: he iiiterrnp:s hiins. If to provide for tlie 
safety of his trieiids, ai« tlien lesnm.s "liit lie was first 
about to sav : it shonld iioi, tiieref.ire, b.- omitl.d. Nor 
should Ambitln nii'S be dunged to Ambitions dye ; be- 
cause such a rlietnii..-al tlouiish is unnecessary, -.nd because 
itd.^piivesa passage of sen.-eaiil uiMniniar, w Inch ihe author 
invested vviih both. It requires uo explanation. 



4r6 



THE liA^HFUL LOVER. 



[Act II. 



Now print yourselves "iili )irey ; lef not llie uiglit, 

Nor these thick woods. g;ive satictuiiry to 

The feiir-stnick hares, our enemies : fire these trees, 

And force the wretclies to forssike iheir hoh .-, 

And ort'er their scorch'd liodies to your swords, 

Or hum them as a sacrifice to your answers. 

Wlio hriPijs (ionziiji-a's head, or takes him jirisoner 

(Whi(li I inclii.e to rather, tiiat he iiiav 

Be sensible of those tortures which i vow 

To inflict upon him for denial of 

His daughter to our lied), siiall have u blank, 

Willi our hand and signet made au'. heiifical. 

In which he may write down himself what wealth 

Or honours he desires. 

Alivi. The great duke's will 
Shall be ohey'd. 

Pisuu. I'lit it in execution. 

Mart. Hegirt the wood, and fire it. 

Sold. Polio w follow ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE VI — Tl:e sni/,e. .'i'wther part of the same. 
Enter F.minf.ze, ilugnlseil «» a Florentine S- Idler, 

Farn. Uherii, prince Uberti ! O mv friend. 
Dearer than life! I have lost ihee. Cruel fortune, 
Unsati-sfieil with our suflerinfjs ! we no sooner 
Were ])arled from the duKe.and e'en ihen ready 
To take a mutual farewell, when a troup 
Of the enemy's horse fell on ns ; we were forced 
To take the woods again, hut in our flight 
Their hot pursuit divided us : we had heen happy 
If we had died together. I'o survive him 
To ine is worsethan death, anil therefore should not 
Embrace the means of mv escape, though ofier'd. 
When naliire gave us life she gave a burthen, 
l3ut at our jileasure not to be cast off, 
Though weary of it ; and mv reason prompts me. 
This liahit of a Nnrentiiie, which 1 toidc 
From a dying soldier, may keep ine unknown, 
Till opportunity mark me out a way 
For (light, and with security. 

KiUer L'eerti. 

Uber. Was there ever 
Such a night oi horror? 

Farn. My friend's voice ! I now 
In ]v,irt forgive thee, foriune. 

Uher. I he wood flames, 
The bloodv sword devours all that it meets. 
And deaih in several shapes rides here in triumjih. 
I am 1 ke a slag- closi d in a toil, my life. 
As soon as found, the cruel huntsman's prey : 
Why fiie&t thou, then, what is inevitable I 
Better to fall wiih manly wounds before 
Thy ciuel enemy, than survive thine honour: 
And yet lo charge him, and die unrevenged, 
Meie (lesj eraiion. 

Furn. jleioic spirit ! 

Uber. Mine own jile I contemn, and would not 
save it 
But fur the future service of 'he duke, 
And safety of his dau-hter: having means. 
If 1 escape, lo r-.jise a second army. 
And, what is nearest to me, to enjoy 
My friend Farneze. 

Fiini. I am still his care. 

Ulier. Wh-M .shall 1 do? if! call loud, the foe 
That hath begirt the wood, will hear the sound. 
Siiall 1 return by the same path? 1 cannot. 
The daiknes.s of the nijjlit conceals it from me; 
Something 1 must resolve. 



Farn. Let fr eiidshi]i rou~e 
'I'by slee[)ing soul. Kanieze : wilt thou sufTer 
'i'hy friend, a jirince, nay, one that may set free 
I'hy captived country, peri.-.li, when 'tis in 
Thy ])ower, wirh this disguise, to .-ave his life? 
Thou hast lived too loii'^, therefore resolve to die: 
'i'hou hast seen thy coiintry ruin'd. and thy master 
Comjieird to shameful flight ; the fields ai:d woods 
Strew'd o'er with carcases oi thy fellow-soldiers j 
'i'he miseries thou art fallen in, and before 
i hy eyes the horror of this place, and thousand 
Calamities to come • and after all these, 
Can any hope remain ? shake oft' delays . 
I-)ost thou doubt vet? To save a cilizen, 
The conquering- Ri'iniin in a general 
F^steem'd the highest honour ; can it he then 
Inglorious to preserve a prince ? thy friend ?— 
Uberti, prince L'berti ! use this means 
Of thy escaj)e ; — 

[P////j> off his Florentine vnijorm, and casts tt 
hejore Uherii. 

coiiceal'd in this, thou mayst 
Pass through the enemy's guards : t!.e time denies 
Longer discourse ; thou Ir.ist a nolde end*. 
Live, therefore, mindi'ul of iliy dying friend. 

\Eiit. 

Uber. Farneze, stay thy hasty steps ! Farneze I 
Thy friend Uberti calls thee: 'tis in vain ; 
He's gone to death au innocent, and makes life, 
'1 he benefit he conl'ers on me, my guili. 
'J'hou art too covetous of another's safety, 
'ioo prodigal and careless oi thine own, 
'Lis a deceit in friend.-hi|) to enjoin me 
To put this garment on. aiui live, that he 
May have alone the honour to die nobly. 

cruel pietyf , in our eiiiial danger 

To rob thyself of that thou giv'st thy friend ! 

It must not be ; I will restore his gift, 

And die before him. How ? -where shall I find 

him? 

Thou art o'ercome in friendship: yield, Uberti, 
To the extremity ol the time, and live: 
A heavy ransome ! but it must be paid. 

1 will put on this habit: |)itying- heaven, 
As it Ijves goodness, may pr .lect my fiiend, 
And give me means to sati.-sfy the debt 

I stand engaged for; if not. pale despair, 
I dare thy worst ; tlmu canst but bid me die, 
And so much I'll force Iroiii mine enemy^. 



[Ei«». 



SCftNE VII. — The same. Lorenzo's Camp. 

Enter Alonzo and I'isano, with FAH.s'tzK hound; 

Si idiers vith ttnches, F/MiM-zii's suoru in one of' the 

Sdldieis^ hands. 

Alon. 1 know him, he's a man of ransome. 

P'san. True ; 
But if he live, 'tis to be paid to me. 



• Thou hast a noble end,] Allinling to wliat Uberti had 
ju-t s;ii(l, ofr.ii-iii!; ii sfcoi.d army, <!k.c. 

t () cruel i)i.t>,] So tlie .III co|).\ : ihe moilcrn edition* 
liMve O cruel (iiy, h tunc :iiiil niiinittical scpliitliiMtiim. 

j llils short i-cnie is viiy « til «iiiii ii ; bin, .il llie same 
time, must stiikc till- iciuliT asextieiiMly iiiHriilirial. The 
two IViei lis speaking on opposite ^i'les if a tiee is ,-oiiiewliat 
loo siiiiilai- lo wImI occurs so oili-ii on ilic Roiii.oi stage, 
wliiie people ill miilii.il qiicsl hUvhn > ji'slie hcioic ilicy cutcli 
eacli other's e)e or ear. As I aine/.c h.nl l.ikeii llic j;eiierous 
lesoliitioii to SHve liis fiieiiil, ai llu- e\pi'ii.-i- ol liis own life, 
il was-iiiiproper to ili-ro\er liimsell; liiil all lliat is done 
ini^ht be etteclud willi fev\er words, ami agiealei portion Ot 
dexterity. 



Scene VII.] 



THE BASHFUL LOVKH. 



477 



Alon. I forced Inm to tlie woods. 

Pisiin. I5ut inv sirt found liim, 
Nor will I brook n jiartner in the prey 
My fortune fiiive ine. 

Al(i'i. Render linn, or expect 
The point of this. 

Pisan. Were it li»htning, I would meet it, 
Rather th^in he oii!\)riired. 

Alon. I thus decide 
Tlie dirtVreiice. 

Pisan. My sword shall plead my title. 

[Thcyfght. 

Enter Louenzo, IMAnxiNO, Captains, and Attendants. 

Lor Ha! where learn 'd you this discipline? my 
eoinnianders 
Opposed ao-.iinst one another ! what blind fury 
Brings forth tiiis hr:ivvl ? Alonzo and Pisano 
At bloody (lirt'erence ! hold, or I lilt 
At ho'h as enemies. — Now speak; l-^.w grew 
This strange division? 

Phan. Against all right, 
By force Alonzo strives to reap the harvest 
Sown bv inv labour. 

Alon. Sii-, ibis is mv prisoner, 
The ]>urcliase of my sword, which proud Pisano, 
That iiath no iiiteiest in him, would take from me. 

Pisan. Did not the presence of t!ie duke forbid 
me, 
I wouhi sav 

Alon. What? 

Piiiiii. I is false. 

Lor. Before inv fai e ! 
Keep them asunder. And was this the cause 
Of such a niorial quarrel, this the base 
'J'o raise your fury on ? the ties ot blood, 
Of fellowship ill arms, lespect, ob< dieiice 
To me, \(inr jirince and general, no more 
Prevailing en \ou ? this a price for which 
You would hetrav our victory, or wound 
Your reputation with mutinies. 
Forg-eiiul of yourselves, allegiance, honour? — 
This is a C'liirse t(. thrcv.- us headlong down 
From that proud height of empire upon which 
We were secuielv seated. Shall division 
O'erturn what concord built? If you desire 
To bathe ynur swords in blood, the enemy 
Still flies befoie you: would you iiave spoil? the 

counlry 
Lies open to you O unheard-of madness I 
What greater mischief could (Jonzaga wish us, 
Than yon pluck on our heads? no, my brave 

leaders. 
Let unitv ilwell in our tents, and discord 
Be banisb'd to our enemies. 

Alon. Take the prisoner, 
I do give up my title. 

Pisan. 1 desire 
Your frieiulship, and will buy it ; he is yours. 

[Tlieq embrace. 

Aim. No man's a faithful judge in his own cause, 
Let the dnie determine of him ; we are friends, sir. 

hov. Show it in emuratinn to o'eitake 
The flying- i'oe ; this cursed wretch disposed of, 
With our whole strength we'll follow. 

f I'.ifuiit Alonzo and Pisano. embracing. 

Farn, Dcaii at length 
Will set a jieriod lo calamity : 
[ see it in tiiis tyiaut's frowns Iiaste to me. 



Enter UuBiiri, habile i likf a !'"lo!eniine Holdier*, and 
mixes ivilh '.lie rest. 
Lor. Thou maihine of this mischief, lo d; to feel 
Whate'er the wrath of an incensed prince 
C'ln pour upon thee: «iih thy bio id I'll quench 
( But drawn t'orth slowly) the invisible flames 
Of discord — bv thy chtinns first fetch'd from hell, 
Then (breed into the breasts of my commanders. 
Bring forth the lortures. 

Uher. Hear, victorious duke. 
The story of mv ini-ierable fortune, 
Cl which this villain ( bv your sacred tongue 
Ccindemned to die) was the immediate cause : 
. And, if mv humble suit have justice in it. 
Vouchsafe to grant it. 

Lor. Soldier, be brief, our anger 
Can brook no long delayf. 

Ubi-r. I am the last 
Of three sons, bv one father got, and train'd up 
Will) his be-st care, for service in vour wars: 
My father died under his fatal hand. 
And two of my poor brothers. Now I hear. 
Or fancy, woundt-d bv my grief, deludes ine, 
'I'heir pale and mangled gho-.ts cr\ing- for vengeance 
On perjury and murder. Thiis the case stood : 
My father (ou whose face he durst not look 
111 equal inartt) by his fraud circumvented, 
I Became his cajitive ; we, his sons, lamenting 
Ourold sire's hard condition, freely orter'd 
Our utmost for his rai'some; that refused. 
The subMe tyrant, for his cruel ends, 
Conceiving that our piety might ensnare us, 
Proposed my fither's head to be redeem'd. 
If two of us would yield ourselves his slaves. 
We, upon any terms, resolved to save him. 
Though with the loss of life which he gave to us, 
U ith an niid.iuiited consiancv drew lots 
("For each of iis contended to be one) 
W ho should preserve > ur father ; I was exempted^ 
But to my more afHiciion. My biothers 
Delivered np, tSe (^;ejured lioinicide 
Laughing ill scorn, and by his hoary locks 
Pulling- mv wretched father on bis knees, 
Saiil, 'I bus receive ihf lather V'U have ramomedl 
And insraiiily struck otf his head. 
Lor. .Most barbarous ! 
Fiirn. 1 never saw ibis man. 
Lor. One murmur inae, 
I'll have thy tongue pulled out. — Proceed. 

Ulier. Conceive, sir. 
How tb-jinlerstruck we stood, being made spectator* 
Of sU(b an uiiex|)e(-t. d tiage<ly ; 
Vet this was a beginning, not an end 
i'o his iiiieiided ciuehy ; for, pursuing 
Such a n-ven,4e as no llyrcanian tigress 
Bohb'd of her whelps, durst aim at, in a moment, 
IVt-admg upon my father's trunk, he cut oft* 
My pious brothers' heads, and threw them at me. 

* liaiiited fike a FliM-untine soi- 

dier,] i. e. in llu- (iri'>'! wliitli Kirne/e liad tluowii tu liim. 

+ Lor. .Soldier, bn briff ; our anger 

Cm brvuk iiti loH" delay.] Sotlif old copy. C<i.\eter aud 
Mr. M. M.isiMi ie,i i, Willi i-qii,il tiiltliiy itiid lianmaiy. 
Soldier, be biirf; 
Uur anyer cininit hroo' a lony drhiy, 

I In equal iiiarl,)] A vile iriui^l.iluin of cequo marte, in 
equal Jighl. 

j f was exfinpled 

Ihit to mi/ I'inrealbictior,, c^c.\ Ti'e Miange pointing of 
tills fpuL-cli b\ Cii\cl>-i- .lull Ml. M.M:is(ai, .-l.i.'vs tli.it lb« 
iiiciniiij; 01' it was totally ujisiuultroluod by lUem. 



478 



TFIE BASHFUL LOVER. 



FAcT II. 



Oh, wlmt a spectncle was this ! what niounfain 
Of sorio"' overwlieliu'd me! my jioor heiirt-strings, 
As teiifer'tl hy his tyranny, cra(-k"(l ; iriy knees 
Bea'iii^- 'gainst one anotlier, o-ioans and tears 
Blended logetlier fo'.low'd , not one i)assion 

Calamity ever vet express'd, forootteii. 

Now, minhtv sir ( bathing vour Ceet wiili tears), 
Your supidiant's suit is, that he may have leave, 
With anv cruelty revenge can fancy, 
To sacrifice this monster, lo appease 
My father's ghost and hro'hers'. 

Lor. 'J'hou hast ohlain'd it: 
i Choose anv 'orture, let ihe niemorv 
'Of what thv father and thy brothers sufTer'd, 
Make thee ingenious in it ; such a mie 
As Phal-uis would wish to he call'd his. 
Martino. guarded with vour soldiers, see 
The execution flone ; but bring iiis head. 
On forfeiture of your own, to us : our presence 
Long since was elsewhere look'd for. 

[E.ri<, icilh Ctiptuiui and Attendants, 

Mart. Soldier, to work ; 
Take anv way thou wilt foi* ihy revenge, 
Provided that he die : his body's thine. 
But I must have his head. 

Ulier. I have already 
Concluded of the manner. O just lieaven. 
The instrument I wish'd for oft'er'd me ! 

Man. \\ hv art Ihou rapt thus? 

Uher. In this soldier's h-tnd 
I see the murderer's owiiswoni, I know it; 
Yes, this is it l)V whicli my father and 
My brothers were beheaded : luible ca|ilain, 
Coinm;ind it to niv h-md. — [/'iiAe.s Faineze's Sword 
J'vom the Soldier.] — Stand forth and tremble: 
This weiijiiin, of late drunk wiih innocent bood, 
Shall now carouse thine own • piav, it thou can^t. 
For, tliough the world shall not redeem thy body, 
I would not kill thy soul. 



Farn. Canst thou believe 
There is a heaven or hell, or soul? thou hast none. 
In death to rob me of my fame, my honour. 
With such a forced lie. 'Jell me, thou hangman. 
Where did 1 ever see thy face ? or when 
Murder'd thy sire or brothers? look on me. 
And make it good : thou dar'st not, 

Uher. Yes, 1 will, ^He unh'nnh his arms. 

In one short whisper ; and that told, thou art dead. 
I am Uberli: take thy sword, fight bravely ; 
We'll live or die together. 

Mart. We are lietray'd. 

[Martino is struck down, the Soldiers ran off, 

Farn. And have I leave once more, brave prince, 
fo ease 
My head on thy true bosom? 

Uher. 1 glory more 
To be thy friend, than in the name of prince. 
Or any higher title. 

Farn. My j)reserver ! 

Ulier. The life you gave to me I but return ; 
And pa' don, dearest friend, the bitter language 
Necessity made me use. 

Fit'—., O, sir, 1 am 
Outdone in all ; hut comforted, that none 
But vou can wear the laurel. 

Uher. Here's no place 
Or time to argue this ; let us fly hence. 

Farn. I follow. [Exeunt, 

Mart, [ris-s.] A thousand furies keep you com- 
pany ! 
I was at the gate of [hell*,] but now 1 feel 
My wound's not mortal ; 1 was but astonish'd ; 
And, coming to m\ self, J find I am 
Reserved for the gallows : there's no looking on 
'J he enraged duke, excuses will not serve ; 
I must do something that may get mv jiardon ; 
If not, 1 know the worst, a halter ends all. [Exit. 



ACT III. 



SCENE L- The Durhii of Mantua. A part of the 
Country near Octavio's Cotlai^e. 

Enter Octavio, a hook in his hand, 

Oct. 'Tib true, by proof I find it"*, human reason 
Views with such dim eyes what is good or ill, 
That if the great Disposer of our being 
Should oHer lo our choice all worldly blessini;^ 
We know not what to take. When I was young. 
Ambition of court-prelernieiit (ired me: 
And, as there were no hapjiiness bevoud it, 
I labour'd for't, and got n ; no man stood 
In greater favour with his prince ; 1 had 
Honours and offices, wealth Howed in lo me. 
And, for my service both in peace and war. 



• Oct. "/is trup ; hy proof I find it, &r ] It appears 
from III s, thai tlie l)iuli wliuli O.t.iMo li.id b.-cii leudiii^ 
was JiiMiial, ai. ami.irwiili wlu.iu Massii,i;er was pecu- 
li.irly wtlhircpKiiiitf.!, .IS tlien- is pencil v uiiu ef liis (liMiiia- 
tio paces ill wliuli xveial li,ip\ .iIIii.-imi,- i,, In,:, do not 
occur: tlie.-e, as will as tin .se tu ( ivxio, H i;ice, Ovid, Se- 
neca, Clmdirtii, ai d etiiiis, a« M.is-iiiLii- lie. e> not aiiilii- 
tiou>ly (ibtriiile tlu'iii 111 till- eye, I line tuii.iiiijiily kit to 
Uie exeiciae of tlle leader's own ■.af^.uily. 



The general voice gave out I did deserve them. 

Hut, O vain cnnfiilence, insubordinate greatness ! 

When I was most secure it was not in 

Ihe power of fortune fo remove me from 

'ihe Hilt I firmly stood on, in a moment 

My virtues were made crimes, and iiojuilar favour 

(To new-raised men still fatal) bred suspicion 

'I'hat I was dangerous: wliich no sooner enter'd 

(ionzaga's breast, but straight my ruin foUnw'd; 

My offices were la'en from me, my state seized on; 

And, had I not jirevented it by flight, 

The jealeusy of the duke had been removed 

With the (brfeitiire of my head. 

Hort. [within.'\ Or show compassion. 
Or I will force it. 

Oct, Ha! is not poverty safe ? 
I thoui;ht proud war, that aim'd at kingdoms' ruins. 
The sack of palaces and cities, scorn 'd 
To look on a j/oor cottage. 



• / 71'as at the gate f)/"[bell,] The dicail of a piiiitanical 
tribunal indnceil tlie p'riiiter to in.'Ke a br^bV brie. JIrIX 
was Ibe wind ouiititd. w iiboirt ilciil>i ; it li i.li.;i.icleiistic 
ami becoming ibe lebt of llie speech. 



Rcii'JF 1 3 



THE BASHFUL T.OVKR. 



47? 



liiiter IloitTENSio ui:h Asrwro in his unns, Goriiiiio 

Jhlloiiing. 

Goth. ^Vliat would you liavw*? 
The (Invil slt^pjis ill my pocket ; I li;ive no cross 
To drive liim from it. l}e you or tliief or soldier, 
Or suel) II bpggiir as will not be denied. 
My scri|>. inv lar-hox, lionic, uiid coat, will pr-n-e 
But a iiiin purchase; if you turn my inside out- 
wards, 
ou'll find it true. 

Unit. Not any food ? [Searches his scrip. 

Goth. Alas 1 sir, 
I am no glutton, but an under-sliepherd ; 
'I"he very jiicture of famine; judge by my cheeks 

else : 
I have my pittance by ounces, and starve myself. 
When I pay a pensioner, an ancient mouse, 
A crumb a meal. 

Hurt. i\o drop If ft ? [Takes his bottle. 

Drunkard ! iia-t thou swill'd up all ? 

Goth. How ! drunkard, sir ? 
I am a p lor man. you mistake me, sir. 
Drunkard's a title for the rich, my betters ; 
A calling in repute : some sell their lands for't. 
And roar, Wine's better than money. Our poor be- 
verages 
Of buttermilk or whey allay 'd with water, ] 

Ne'er raise our thoughts so high. Drunk ! I had 

never 
The credit to be so yet. 

Hort. Ascanio, 
Look up, dnar youth ; Ascanio, did thy sweetness 
Command the oreedv enemy to forbear 
To prey upon it, and 1 thank my fortune 
For sufferiiinf me to live, that in some part 
I miuht return thy courtesies, and now, 
To heighten mv afflictions, must i he 
Enforced, no pitying angel near to help us, 
Heaven deaf to ray complaints, too, to beliold thee 
Die in my arm< for hurjger? no means left 
To len'^then life a little ! 1 will open 
A vein, and pour my blood, not yet corrupted 
With any sinful act, but pure as he is, 
Into his Camish'd mouth. 

Oct. [Comesjorwiiiil ] Vounj; man, forbear 
Thy savage pity ; I have belter means 
To call back flying life. 

[ Poms a cnrdial into ihs mouth of Ascanio. 

Goth. You may believe him; 
It is his sucking-bottle, and confirms, 
An old man's twice a child ; his nurse's milk 
AVas ne'er so chargeable, should you put in too 
For soap and candles : though he sell his flock for't. 
The baby must have this dug : he swears 'tis ill 
For my complexion, but wonderous comfortable 
For an old man that would never die. 

Oct. Hope well, sir ; 
A temperate heat begins to thaw his numbness ; 
The blood too by degrees takes fresh possession 

• Gotli. What wovld you have ? &c.l The modern edi- 
tors liave set ihcir wil a'^j^iiisl poor Gmlirio, and depiivtd 
him 01 all prtu iisimis to veise. Certainly Massiimer iiit-ant 
liim to .speali in measure, and thotis;li ii be not siitii as tlie 
superior cliaraclers li>e, ytt it si;its llie per.soii, and runs 
glibly ofi' ihe tongi e. Wliai is inoie, the old copy prints liis 
speeches as the) M^nd heie, fo lliat (here is no acionniiiig 
for lliis vaLMrs of CoveUr and M. Mason. 

♦ Goth. You may believe him ■] This speech, whicli, like 
irio.-l of the rs•^t, is ^!r.lnl;-ly p"t into prose, is so carelessly 
piinieil, and so lidicnlonrly poii.ted, iu the foriiiei editions, 

bat it is impossible lu undur^iiand it. 



On his pale cheeks; his pulse beats high : stanil off. 
Give him more air, he stirs. 

[Golhno steals ihe hottls, 

Goth. And have 1 <:ot thee, 
Thou bottle of immortality ! 

Asc. Where am I ? 
What cruel hand hath forcrd back wretched life? 
Is rest in death denied me? 

Goth. O sweet liquor ! 
Were here enough to make me drunk, I might 
Write mvself ofiMitleman, and never buy 
A coat of the heralds. 

Oct. How now, slive? 

Goth 1 was fiinting, 
A clownlike qualm seized on me, but T am 
Kecover'd, thanks to your bottle, and begin 
To feel new stinings, gallant thoughts: one draught 

more 
Will make me a perfect signior. 

Oct. A tough cudgel 
Will take this j^enile itch off; home to my cottage, 
See all things hands'>me. 

Goth. CJood sir, let me have 
The boitle along to smell to : O rare perfume ! 

[Fxit. 

Ilart, Speak once more, dear Ascanio. — How he 
eyes you. 
Then turns away his face I look up, sweet youth ; 
The object cannot hurt you ; this good man, 
Nest heaven, is your preserver. 

Ac-c. Would 1 had perish'd 
Without relief, rather than live to break 
His good old heart with sorrow. () my shame ! 
IMv shame, my never-dying shame ! 

Oct. I have been 
Actiuainted with this voice, and knoyv the face 

too : 

'Tis she. 'tis too apparent; O my daughter! 

I mourn'd long for thy loss, but thus to find thee, 

Is more to be lamented. 

Hort. How! your daughter? 

Oct. IMv only child; 1 murmur'd against heaven 
Because I had no more, but now I find 
This one too many. — Is Alonzo glutted 

[Maria weeps 
With thy embraces ? 

Hort. At his name a shower 
Of tears falls fiom her eyes ; she faints again. 
Grave sir, o'er-rule your passion, and deter 
The ^to^v of her fortune*. On my life 
She is a worthy one ; her innocence 
INIight he abused, but mischief's self wants power 
To make her guilty. Show yourself a laiher 
In her recovery; tiien as a judge, 
When she hath strength to speak in her own cause, 
You may deteimine of her. 

Oct. I much thank you 
For your wise counsel : vou direct me, sirf. 
As one indebted more to years, and I 
As a pupil will obey you : not far hence 
i have a homely dwelling; if you jilease there 
To make some short repose, your entertainment, 
Tliough coarse, .shall relish of a gratitude. 



* The story of hi:r fortune.] All the ediliins reii J/""'* 
instead oi her. 1 have nodonbl but lliat the latter was tht 
anihorsword, while the former was piobalilj, inseitcd by 
a very coinnioii mistake, from the exprc^iun ininitdiately 
over it. 

t Vou direct me, sir.] Me. wliidi 

completes both the uietie and the sente, is inberu'liium the 
old copy. 



480 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act nr 



And tliiit's all 1 can pay you. Look up, girl, 
' Tbou ait in thy f'a'lier's arms. 

Horl. She's weak and faint still — 

spare your age! lam young and strong, and 

this way 
To serve her is a pleasure, not a burthen : 

[Ta/ces her in his arms. 
Pray vou, lead the way, 

Oct. The saints reward your goodness ! 

^Exeunt. 

« 

SCENE H. — The same. Another part of the Country. 
KiUer ^L\^'Flt0Y and IMatilda disguised, 

Malil No hope of safety left ? 
Man. We are descried. 

Matil. I thought that, covered in this poor dis- 
guise, 

1 might have pass'd unknown. 

Mini. A diamond, 
Tiiough set in horn, is still a diamond. 
And s]>ariiles as in purest gold. We are follow'd : 
Out of ihe troo])s that scour'd the plains, I saw 
Two gallant horseman break forth (who, by their 
Brave furniture and habiliments for the war, 
Seem'd to conmiaud the rest), spurring hard to- 
wards us. 
See with wiiat winged speed they climb the bill, 
Like falcons on the stretch to seize the prey ! 
Now thev dismount, and on their hands and kneeo 
O'erconiethe deH|i ascent* that guards us from theiTi. 
Your beauty hath betrayed you ; for it can 
No more he night when briglit Apollo shines 
In our meridian, than th;U be conceal'd. 

Muiil. It is my curse, not blessing ; fatal (o 
My country, father, and myself. Why did you. 
Forsake tli« city 'i 

Man. ' Tvvas the duke's command : 
No time to argue that ; we must descend. 
If undiscovered voursoft feet, unused 
To such rougii travel, can hut carry you 
Haifa lea-iie hence, I know a cave which vvill 
Yield us jiroteiiion. 

Mtiiil. 1 wish 1 could lend you 
Part of my speed ; for me, I can outstrip 
Daphne or Atalanta. 

Man. Some good angel 
Defend us, and striLe blind our Lot pursuers ! 

[^Exeunt. 
Enter Alonzo and Pisano. 

Alon. She cannot be far off ; how gloriously 
She sliow'd to us in tlie valley ! 

Pisan. In my thought, 
Like 10 a blazing comet. 

Alan. Brighter far : 
Her be.ims of beauty made the hills all fire ; 
From whence removed 'liscover'd with thick clouds. 
But we lose time ; I'll take that way. 

Piiuu. I, this. \_F.xeunt severally. 



scent: Ul.— The same. A Wood. 

Enter Hoiitensio. 

Hart. 'Tis a degree of comfort in mv sorrow, 
I have done one good work in reconeiliii}!; 



• O'^riuimt the deep «.v(,m/.j So the old o..p\ : ilie iim- 
Jem »-iiiu .lis if.iil xlfi'p asttiit, wliiuli h iiui .... .^i ...I, o.ii 
which, iu'.tuud, if it wtie litUci, Ins no buslil>.■.■^.•. in [In- if.\l. 



Maria, long hiil in Ascanio's habit. 
To grieved Octavio. What a sympathy 
I found in their affections ! she with tears 
Making a free confession of her weakness, 
In yielding up her honour to Alonzo, 
Upon his vows to marry her ; Ociavio, 
Prepared to credit her excuses, nav. 
To extenuate her guilt ; she the delinquent, 
And judge, as 'twere, agreeing. — But to me, 
'I'he most forlorn of men, no beam of comfort 
Deigns to ajipear ; nor can I, in my fancy. 
Fashion a means to get it: to my country 
I am lost for ever, and 'twere impudence 
To think of a return , vet this I coulil 
Endure with jiatience ; but to be divorced 
From all my joy on earth, the happiness 
To look upon the excel lenre of nature. 
That is perfection in herself, and needs not 
Addition or epithet, rare .Matilda*. 
Would make a saint blaspheme. Here, Galeazzo, 
In this obscure abode, 'tis fit thou shouldsc 
Consume thy youth, and grow old in lamenting 
'J'hy star-cross'd fortune, m this shepherd's habit; 
Ibis hook thy best defence, since thou conldst use. 
When thou didst (iglit in such a j)rincess' cause, 
Thy sword no hetter. [Lies down 

Enter Ai.onzo and Pisano tvilh Matilda, 

Mdtil. Are you men or monsters? 
Whither will you drag me? can the open ear 
Of heaven be deaf, when an unspotted maid- 
Cries out for succour I 

Pisan. 'Tis in vain ; cast lots 
Who shall enjoy lier first. 

Alon. Flames rage within me. 
And, such a spring of nect.ir near to quench them; 
.My appetite shall be clay'd first: here i st.nd. 
Thy friend, or enemy ; let me have precedence, 
I write a friend's name in my heart ; deny it. 
As an enemy I defy thee. 

Pisan, Friend or foe 
In this alike 1 value, 1 disdain 
To yield priority ; draw thy sword. 

Alon. Jo sheath it 
In thy ambitious heart. 

Matil. O curb this luiy. 
And hear a wreiched maid first speak. 

Hort, I am marble. 

Matd. Where shall I seek out words or how re- 
strain 
Mv enemies' rage or lovers' ? Oh, the latter 
Is far more odious : did not your lust 
i^rovoke you, for that is its jiroper name. 
My char-tity were safe : and yet I tremble more 
To think what dire effects lust may bring forth, 
Than what, as enemies, \0ii can iiiHict, 
And less I fear it. lie friend? to yourselves. 
And enemies to me ; better 1 full 
A sacrifice to your atonement, than 
Or one or both should perish. 1 am the cause 
Of your division ; remove it, lords, 
And concord will spring up : ])oison this face 



• Addition ort'inthet, rire iMalildn,] Tn say lliat Ma- 
tildi; reqniiL-d im ipnliri, <iiid iniijicdi ,tely !■> yive li»-r one, 
Sfiins an ovirsis;lil vvldcli 1 .iiii nn >iliiiis; lo aitiiliiii.- to Ihe 
iinlhor. I'cili ips ilic roiiiiii.t .-lioiild be pLirtd .iii.i rare, or 
tlif Hord ils.U (di :.u:4li lin.-. 1 d.i inil bnilit i.ji), may be an 
adililion ol l\:K pl.tyiis irl a^^;l>s llie iin'>t coiiiiotcnl 
jird:;es •.(' piii|iinn , i.i tvi-ii ill poetry, 'lilt lilt iiiii^ht be 
imi'iiAi'il u> rt iii.'dcin f.i l>> icid.115^ — Addition, i<r rare 
fltlhcl, bii' 11.. I l.i II. .11 of M.iv.ii.^i-r .iiid Ills -choi.l, who 
\>Ln; .itcusliinud lo p.oiuiiiuce Kiidj/iim as a qindrisyllable. 



Scene III.] 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



4R1 



That hafb bewitcli'd yoii, tliis grove cannot want 

Aspics or toads ; cre^iturt's, tlioii^li justly call'd 

for their delormitv, tlie .scorn of nature, 

More bapjiy than mvsflf wiili this false beauty 

(The set'd iind fruit of niischief) you admire so. 

f thus embrace \our knees, and yours, a suppliant. 

If tigers did not nurse vou, or you s-uck 

The milk of a tierce lioness, ^ho^^■ compassion 

Unto yourselves in being- reconciled. 

And pity to poor nie, my lionour^afs, 

In taking loaib'd life from me. 

Pisan. What shall we do? 
Or end our dift'erence in kdling ber, 
Or fight it out? 

Alon. To the last gasp. I feel 
The moist tears on my cheeks, and blush to find 
A virgin's plaints can move so. 

Pisaii. Jo ])reveiit 
Her flight while we contend, let's bind her fast 
To tliis cypress-tree. 

Alon. Agreed. 

Mutil. It does prestige 
My funeral rites*. [They bind Matilda. 

Hort. 1 shall turn atheist 
If Heaven see and suti'er this : why did I 
Abandon my good sword ? with unarm'd hands 
1 cannot rescue her. Some angel pluck me 
From the ajiosiacy I am iailing to, 
And by a mir^icie lei.d me a weapon 
To underprop fulling honour. 

Pisaii. the is last : 
Resume your arms. 

Alon, Honour, revenge, the maid too, 
]^ie at llie slake. 

Piiun. Which thus I draw. 

[They fght, PisanofalU, 

Alon. All's mine, 
liut bought with some blood of my own. Pisano, 
Tliou wert a noble enemy, wear tliat laurel 
\<\ death to conifoit thee: for the reward, 
*'I'is mine now without rival. 

[Hoiiensio snatches up Piiano's sword, 

HoH. 'J'hou art deceived ; 
Men will grow up liKe to the dragon's teeth 
I'rom Cadmus' Jielm, sown in the tieldof Mars, 
To guard piire chastity from lust and rape. 
Libidinous monster, satyr, iaun, or what 
Does belter speak thee, slave to appetite. 
And sensual baseness ; if thy prutane band 
But touch this virgin iein|>le, thou art dead. 

Malil. 1 see the aid of heaven, though slow, is 
sure. 

Alon. A rustic swain dare to retard my pleasure ! 

Ilort. No svsain, Alonzo, but ber knight and 
servant 
To whom the world should owe and pay obedience ; 
One that thou hast encounter'd, and shrunk under 
His arm ; that sj).(red thy liie in the late battle, 
At the intercession of the princess' page. 
Look on me better. 



* Matil. It diirs presage 

My fiuier.il lites.] I'o understand tliis, it may be neces- 
»arj to ob-urve lliit the Honiaiis, and soine oilier nations, 
always c.uricd t-jpits? boui^hs iu tlii ir funeral processions. 
To this Hoiace ^itiKks in a strain of beaulilul pathos: 

nequp harum quax rolis arboTum 

I'e, ynetei iitvi\us cv/jjrs.ivs, 
Vila bievem domiuinn siquetiir. 
It was an ill-tiiiied ncolle Hon of this circnnistance which 
drew upon Urjdiii the clumsy ^neei <it tliestnpid Milbourne. 
—See his Observatiofia on the Tranilaliun of the Georyica. 



Mutil. ' lis my virtuous lover ! 
Under his guard 'twere sin to doubt my safety. 

Aim. 1 know thee, and with courage will redeem 
\\'hat fortune then took from me, 

//())(. Rather keep [Theij fight, Alonzo falh 

Thy compeer compiiny in death. — Lie hy Imii, 
A prey for crows and vultures ; these fair arm-!, 

\_He iinhiniii Mutilda 
Unfit for bonds, should have been chains to make 
A bridegroom happy, though a prince, and proud 
Of such captivity: whatsoe'er you are, 
1 glory in the service 1 have done you ; 
]5ui 1 entreat you* jiay your vows and jnayers. 
For preservation of your life and honour. 
To the most virtuous princess, chaste iNLitilda. 
! a II her creature, and what good 1 do, 
You truly may callher's ; what's ill, mine own. 

Mdiil. You never did do ill, my virtuous ser« 
vant ; 
Nor is it in the power of poor Matilda 
To cancel such an obligation as, 
\Vith iiumble willingness, she must subscribe to. 

Hort. I'be princess ? ha ! 

Mitlil. (jive me a fitter name, 
Your manumised bondwoman, but even now 
III the jiossession of lust, from « liicb 
Y'our more than brave — heroic valour bought me: 
And can I then, for freedom unexpected. 
But kneel to you, my patron? 

Hort. Kneel to me ! 
For lieaven's sake rise ; I kiss the ground you 

trtud on, 
My eyes fixed on the earth ; for I confess 
1 am a ih.ng not worthy to look on you. 
Till you have sign'd my pardon. 

Mutil. Do you interpret 
The much good you have done me, an oftViice? 

Hort. The not performing your injunctions to me, 
Is more than capital : your allowance of 
My love and service to you, with admission 
To each place you made paradise wiih your pre- 
sence, 
Should have enabled me to bring home conquest: 
'J'hen, as a sacrifice, to offer it 
At the altar of your favour : had my love 
Answer d your bounty, or my hopes, an army 
Had been as dust before me ; whereas i. 
Like a coward, turn'd my back, and durst not stand 
The tury of the enemy. 

Mutil. Had you done 
Nothing in the battle, this last act deserves more 
Than 1, the duke my father joining with me. 
Can ever recompense. But take your pleasure ; 
Suppose you have ofiended in not grasping 
Your boundless hopes, 1 thus seal on your lips 
A full remission. 

Hort. Let mine touch your foot, 
Y'our band's too high a favour. 

Mutil. Will you force me 
To r.ivish a kiss from you ? 

Hort. 1 am entranced. 
Mutil. So much desert and bashfulness should 
not march 
In the same file. Take comfort ; when you have 
brought me 

* Cut I entreat f/ou, &c] This Is in the true spirit of 
knialit-.rraiitry ; and, indeed, noiliiin; but cDii-i.iuily bcar- 
iiig'iii iiMiid the l.iiiguase and manners <■( tlii^ j; dl lot but ro- 
m.tniiL- description of men, can leioiici e ns tn llie profound 
reveri.nce with which Galeazzo regards lii.i uiisticss. 



ic: 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act III. 



To some place of security, you shall find 
You liave a seat here, in a heart that l)ath 
Already stiitlied and voived to be thiiiikf'ul. 

Hori. Heaven make me so! oli, 1 am over- 
wlielni'd 
With an excess of joy ! Be not too prodigal, 
Divinest lady, of your grace and bounties 
Ai (iricp, if you are pleased I shall enjoy them, 
Not taste tliem and expire. 

Maid. I'll be more sparing. [Exeunt^ 

Enter Octavio, Goihrio, and Maria. 

Oct. What noise of clashing swords, like armour 
fasiiion'd 
Upon an anvil, pierced mine ears ; the echo 
l^ecloublins: the loud sound through all the vallies ? 
This way the wind assures me thai it came. 

GoOi. 'i'lien with your pardon, 1 11 take ihis. 

Oct. Why, sirrah ; 

Giith. Because, sir, I will trust my heels before 
All winds that blow in the sky : we are wiser far 
Than our gramisiies were, and in this I'll prove it; 
They said, Haste t' the heghmhio of a feast. 
There I am with tliem, hut to the end of a f rap — 
That is apocryphal, 'tis more canonical 
Not to come there at all ; after a storm 
There are still some drops behind. 

Mar. Pure fear hah made 
The fool a philosopher. 

Oct. See, Maria, see! 
1 did not err; here lie two brave men weltering 
In iheir own gore, 

Miir. A pitiful object. 

Goth. I am in a swoon to look on't. 

Oct. They are stiff already. 

Goth. But are you sure they are dead ? 

Oct. Too sure, 1 fear. 

Goth. But are liiey stark dead? 

Oct. Leave prating. fthem. 

Goih. 'i hen I am valiant, and dare come nearer to 
This fellow without a sword shall be my patient. 

[Goes in Pisano. 

Oct, Whate'er they are, humanity commands us 
To do our best endeavour. Run, l\laria, [there 
To the neighbour spring for water ; you will find 
A wooden dish, the beggar's plate, to bring it. 

[Eiit Maria, 
Why dost not, dull drone, bend his body*, and feel 
If any life remain ? 

Goth, \^y your leave, he shall die first, 
And ilien I'll be his surgeon. 

Oil. Tear ojie his doublet. 
And prove if his wounds be mortal, 

Gdth. Fear not me, sir : 
Here's a large wound. — [Feels his pocket.'] -How it 

is swoln and imposthuined ! 
This must be cunningly drawn out, should it break, 
[P«//s out his purse. 
' Twould strangle him ; what a deal of foul matter's 
heie! [too 

This htuh been long a-gathering. Here's a gash 
On the rim of his belly, — [Feels his t,ide pocket.] — 

It may have matter in it. 

He was a choleric man, sure ; what comes from him 

[TuP.es nut his money. 

Is yellow as gold ! — how, troubled wiih the stone 

too ! [&c'i«g a diamouU rinf^- on hisjinger. 

I'll cut vou for this. 



• See Note, p. 72. 



Pisnn. Oh, oh ! [S/art» Ufk 

G'th. lie rnars before I touch him, 

J'isnu. Rohb'd of my life ! 

Goth. iVo, sir, nor of vour monev. 
Nor jewel ; 1 keeji tliein for you :— if I had been 
A perfect mountebank, he had not lived 
lo call for Ins fees again. 

Oct. Give nie leave -there's hope 
Of Ills recovery. [Qjcfs I'is'ino and goes to Alouzo, 

Goth. ] had rather buiv him qui; k 
'Jhaii jiart with my purcha=e ; let his ghost walk, 
1 care not. 

Tie-enter Mama tcilh a di$h of water, 

Oct. Well done, Maria ; lend thy helping hand: 
He haili :i deep wound in his head, wash otF 
The clotted blood : he comes to himself. 

Aloii. I\lv lust ! 
The fruit that grows upon the tree of lust I 
With horror now 1 taste if. 

Oct Do you not know him ? 

Mar, Too soon. Alonzo ! oli me ! though dis- 
loyal, 
Slill dear to Ihv Maria. 

Goih. So iliev know not 
!\ly p;itient. all's cocksuie ; I do not like 
The Momaiiish re>timtion. 

Oct. Rise, and leave him. 
Applaud heaven's justice. 

rt/i/r. ' I'will betMme me better 
To implore its <aving mercy, 

Oct. I last thou no gall ? 
No leeliiiir of thy wrongs? 

Mar. 'J'lirtles have none ; 
Nor can there be such poison in her breast 
Tlia' truly loves, and lawfully. 

On. True, if tliat h>ve 
Be placed on a worthy subject. What he is. 
In thy disgrace is published ; heaven bath mark'd 

iiim 
For punishment, and 'iwere rebellious madness 
In thee to attempt to alter it : revenge, 
A sovereign baiin for injuries, is more proper 
To tliv robbVl honour. Join with me, and thou 
Shalt be thyself the goddess of revenge, 
This wretch the vassal of thy wrath : I'll make him, 
While vet he lives, partake those torments which 
For perjured l(>vers are prepared in hell, 
l^efore his curs'd ghost enter it. This oil, 
Extracted and sublimed from all the simples 
The earth, when swoln with venom, e'er brought 

forth, 
Pour'd in his wounds, shall force such anguish as 
The furies' whips hut imitate; and when 
F^xtremitv of pain shall hasten death. 
Here is another that shall keep in life. 
And make him feel a perpetuity 
Of linueriiig tortures. 

Goth. Knock them both o' th' head, I say, 
An it be but for their skins ; they are embroider'd. 
And will sell well in the market. 

Mur. Ill-look 'd devil. 
Tie up thy bloody tongue. O sir ! I was slow 
In beating down those propositions which 
You urge for my revenge; my reasons being 
So many, and so forcible, that make 
Against yours, that until I had collected 
INly scatier'il powers, I wavered in my choice 
Which 1 should first deliver. Fate hath brought 
Pily enemy (1 can faintly call him so'* 



Scene I.] 



TFiE BASHFUL LOVER. 



48a 



Prostrate before my feet; shall I abuse 

The bounty of my fate, by trampling on him ? 

He alone luin'd me, nor can any haiul 

But liisieliuiUl my late demolislitl lionour. 

If you deny rae means of reparation, 

To satialv your spleen, you are more cruel 

Than evrr yet Alonzo was; you st.mip 

The nan)e of strumpet on ray forehead, which 

Heaven's mercy would takeoff; you fan the fire 

E'en ready to g> out, forgetting that 

'Tis truly noble, having power to j)unish. 

Nay, kinglike, to forbear it. I would purchase 

My liujhiiiiil by such benefits as should make him 

Confess liimseif my equal, and disclaim 

Superiority. 

Off. My blessing on thee ! 



\Vh:it 1 urged was a trial ; and my grant 
To lliv desires sli;dl now ;ippear, ifart 
Or long experience can do iiiin service. 
Nor shall mv charity to this be wanting, 
Howe'er unknown: help me, Maria: you, sir, 
Do your best to raise him. — So. 

Gi)tli He's wond'rous heavy ; 
But tiie (lorter's paid, there's the comfort. 

Ort. ' lis but a trance, 
And "twill forsake boih. 

Mar. If he live, 1 fear not 
He will redeem all, and in thankfulness 
Confirm he owes you for a second life, 
And pay the debt in making me his wife. 

iF.reniit Oct'ivio and Maria wuh Alonzo, and 
Gulhrio with I'iiuuo. 



ACT IV 



SCENE I. — Lorenzo's Camp under the Walls of 
Mantua. 

Enter Lorenzo and Captains. 
Lor. Mantua is ours; place a strong garrison 
in it 
To keep it so ; and as a due reward 
To your brave service, be our governor in it. 

1 Cii}>t. I humbly thank your excellence. \_ExiU 
Lor. Gonznga 

Is yet out of our gripe ; but his strong fort, 

St. Leo, which he holds impregnable 

By the aids of art, as nature, sliall not long 

Retard our absolute conquest. 1'he escape 

Of fair Matilda, my supposed mistress 

(For whose desired possession 'twas given out 

1 made this war), I value not ; alas ! 

Cupid's too feeble-eyed to hit my heart, 

Or could he see, his arrows are too blunt 

To p erce it ; his imagined torch is quench'd 

With a more glorious fire of mv ambition 

To enlaige my empire: soft and silken amours, 

With carpet courtship, which weak |)rinces style 

The happy issue of a flourishing j)eace, 

My tou'^hness scorns. Were there an abstract 

made 
Of all the eminent and canonized beauties 
By truth recorded, or by poets fei^n'd, 
1 could unmoved behold it ; as a picture. 
Commend the workmanship, and think no more 

on't ; 
I have more noble ends. Have you not heard yet 
Of Alonzo, or Pisano ? 

2 Ct;/if. My lord, of neither. 

Lor, Two turbulent spirits unfit for discipline. 
Much less command in war; if they were lost, 
1 should not pine with mourning. 

f.nler JMahtino and Soldiers with Matilda and 
KonTENsio. 
Mart. Bring them forward ; 
This will make my peace, though I had kill'd his 

father. 
Besides the reward that follows 
Lor. iia, iMartino ! 



Where is Farneze's bead ? dost tliou stare ! and 

where 
The soldier that desired the torture of him 1 

Mart. An't please your excellence 

Lor. It doih not please us ; 
Are our commands obey'd ? 

Mart. Farneze's head, sir. 
Is a thing not worth your thought, tbe soldier's 

less, sir : 
I have brought your highness such a head 1 a head 
So well set on too ! a fine head 

Lor. Take that [Strikes him. 

For thy impertinence : what head, you rascal '. 

Mart. My lord, if they that bring such presents 
to you 
Are thus rewarded, there are few will strive 
'J'o be near your grace's pleasures : but I know 
'^'ou will repent your choler. Here's the head : 
And now I draiv the curtain, it hath a face too. 
And such a fuce 

Lm-. Ha ! 

Mart. View her all o'er, my lord, 
I\Iy company on't, she's sound of wind and limb, 
And will do her labour tightly, a bona roba ; 
And (or iier face, as I said, there are five hundred 
City-dubb'd madams in the dukedom, that would 

part with 
Their jointures to have such another: — hold cp 
your head, maid, 

Lor Of what age is the dayl 

Mart. Sir, Since sunrising 
About two hours. 

Lor. Thou liest ; the sun of beauty, 
In modest blushes on her cheeks, but now 
Appear'd to me, and in her tears breaks forth 
As through a shower in April ; ever}' drop 
An orient pearl, which, as it falls, congeal'd. 
Were ear-rings for the catholic king, [to be*] 
Worn on his birth-day. 



* n>rc ear-rimia for the catholic king, [to be] 

Horn on his Inrt'h-day.] I liave vennntd lo insert th* 

words in brackets, soiiielhiiig like tlifiii, as I conjiciare 

fmin the iletioieycy of fonse ami ruelii', liaving ari-ideiiiailj 

drupt out at die press. The riclits of xKv Sp.iiiibh mooaicL 



i84 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act IV 



Mart. Here's a sudden chaiiuie ! 

Lor. Incensed Cupid, whom even now I scorn'd. 
Hath ta'en liis stand, nnd by reflection shines 
(As if lie hiul two bodies, or indeed 
A brother-twin whom sight cannot distinpriiisli) 
In her fair ey^s : see ht)w iln-y heuvl their iirrows 
With lier bright beams! now frown, as if my heart, 
Rebellious to iheir edicts, were unworihy, 
Should I rip up my bosom, to receive 
A wound from such divine artillery I 

Mart. I am ii;ade for ever. 

Mat'd. We are lost, dear sJrvant. 

Hort. \'irtue's but a word ; 
Fortune rules all. 

Matil. We are her tennis-halis. 

Lor. Allow her fair, her symmetry and features 
So well ]>ri)|iortiunVl, as the heavenly object 
With admiration would strike Ovid dumb, 
Nay, force him to forget, his laculiy 
In verse, and celebrate her ])raise in prose*. 
What's this to nie? I that have pass'd my youth 
Unscorth'd with wanton (ires, niy sole delight 
In glittering arms, my conquering- swoid my mis- 
tress, 
Neishing of baibed horse, tlie cries and groans 
Of vanfjuish'd foes suing for li e, my music : 
And shall 1, in the aulunm of my age 
Now, when I wear the livery of time 
Upon my head and heard, suffer mvself 
I'o be traiislonii'd, and like a piihng lover, 
With arms thus folded up, echo Ah nie's! 
And write myself a bondman to my vassal? 
It must not, nay, it shall not be : remove 
The object, and the efi'ect dies. Nearer, Rlartino. 

Mart 1 s'jall have a regiment : colonel iVlartino, 
I cannot go le.-s*- 

Lor. \Vhat thing is this thou hast brouglit me? 

Mart. What thing 1 heaven bless me ! are you a 
I'lorentiiie, 

Nay, the great duke of Florentines, and liaving 
had her 
So long in your power, do you now ask what she is? 
'1 ake her aside and learn ; I have brought you that 
1 look to be dearly paid for. 

Lor. 1 am a soltlier, 
And use of women will, Martino, rob 
My nerves of strength. 

Mart. All armour and no smock ? 
Abominable! a little of the one with the other 
Is excellent : 1 ne'er knew general yet, 
Nor prince that did deserve to be a worthy, 
But he desired to have his sweat wash'd off 
By ajuicy hedfel.ow. 

Lor. But say she be unwilling 
To do that office ! 

Mart. Wrestle with her, I will wager 
Ten to one on your grace's side. 



were now proverbial, and, indeed, willi justice, for the 
mines of Cliili and of I'erii were, at this time, incrssaully 
pouring ialo his irnafury masses of >Aeallli, wliicli formed at 
ence the envy and the .islonishnieiit of Kuiope. 
• tf'ith adm'iriitUm would strike Ovid dumb ; 
Nay force liim to fnryet his fiiciilty 
In terse, and vrlehrate her praise in prose] I dowbt 
whether tlie Duke was siifiiciciillv couveisaot willi Ovid to 
decide on this matur. VV halevcr Ids admiration might be, 
he would lia.e expressed it witli mciru lacility in verse than 
in pro;e, for, as lie tells us liimstlf, " he li>pt'd in num- 
bers:" 

JSt qxiodtentaham dicere, versji.s erai. 
t / cannot ^u less.] 1 cannot accept of K'ss. 



Lor. Slave, hast thou brought me 
Temptation in a beauty not to be 
With prayers resisted ; and, in ]»lac0 of counsel 
To master my afl'ections, and to guard 
My lionour, now besieged hv lust, with the arms 
of sober temperance, mark me out a way 
'J'o be a ravi.^her? Would thou hadst shown me 
Some monster, though in a mon- ugly form 
Than Nile or Afric ever bred ! The basilisk, 
Whose envious eye yet never brook'd a neighbour. 
Kills but the body ; her more ])otent eve 
Buries alive mine honour: Shall I vield thus? 
And all brave thoughts of victory and iriumphs, 
The spoils of nations, the ioud applauses 
Of happy subjects made so by nu conquests ; ^ 

And what's the crown of all, a glorious name 
Insculp'd on pyramids to posterity, 
Be drench'd in Lethe, and no object take me 
i3ut a weak woman, rich in colours only. 
Too delicate a* touch, and some rare features 
Which age or sudden sickness will take from her! 
And Where's then the reward of all my service, 
Love-soothing passions, nay, idolatry, • 

I must pay to her? Hence, and witli thee take 
This second but more dangerous Pandora, 
Whose fatal box, if open'd, will i)uur on me 
All mischiefs that mankind is subject to. 
To the deserts with this Cine, this Calvpso, 
This fair enchaniress! let her spells and charms 
Work upon beasts and thee, than whom wise nature 
Ne'er made a viler creature. 

Matd. Hajipy exile! 

Hort. Some spark of hope remains yet. 

Mart. Come, you are mine now, 
I will remove her where your higliness shall not 
Or see or hear more of her : what a sum 
Will she yield for the Turk's seraglio! 

Lor. Stay ; I feel 
A sudden alteration. 

Mart. Here are fine whimsies. 

Lor. VVhy should I part with her? can any 
foulness 
Inhabit such a clean and gorgeous palace? 
The fish, the fowl, the beasts, may safer leave 
The elements they were nourish 'd in, and live, 
Than I endure her absence ; vet her presence 
Is a torment to me : why do I call it so? 
My sire enjoy'd a woman, I had not been else ; 
He was a comple'e piince, and shall I blush 
To follow his example ? Oh ! but my choice, 
Though she gave suffrage to it, is beneath me : 
But even now in my proud thoughts I scurn'd 
A princess, fair iMatilda ; and is't decreed 
For punishment, I straight must dote on one. 
What, or from whence, 1 know not ? Grant she be 
Obscure, without a coat or family. 
Those I can give : and yet, if she were noble. 
My fondness were more pardonable. iMartino, 
Dost thou know thy prisoner ? 

Mart. Do I know mvself? 
I kept that for the I'envoyt ; tis the daughter 
Of your enemy, duke Gonzaga. 

Lor. Fair Matilda! 
I now call to my memory her picture. 
And find this is the substance ; but her painter 
Did her much wrong, I see it. 

• Too delicate n touch,] I know not liow llit modern edi 
tors understood (his pa>sage, but they read, Too delicate to 
touch, \vh ch (piile perverts the sense of llieir author, 

+ / kept that for the I'envoy ;] i. e. for the last. 



CENK II.] 



THE BASHFI'L LOVI R. 



48 



Mart. 1 am sure 
I tugo'd li-.inl lor lier, here are wounds caa witness, 
Before I could call her mine. 

Lor. No matter huw : 
Make thine own ransome, I will pay it for her. 

Mart. I knew 'twould come at last, 

Mutil. We are lost again. 

Hoit. Variety of afflictions ! 

Lor. 'I'liHt his knee, 
That never yet bow'd to mortality, IKneels, 

Kisses the earth hai)py to bear your weight, 
I know, begets your wonder ; hear the reason, 
And cast it off:— your beauty does' command it. 
Till now, I never "saw you ; fame hath been 
Too sparing in rejiort of your perfections, 
Which now with iuliiiiration 1 gaze on. 
Be not afraid, fair virgin ; had you been 
Employ 'd to nifdiaie your father's cause, 
My drum had been unbraced, my tr.uinpet hungup ; 
Nor had the terror of the war e'er frighted 
His peaceful confines: your demands had been, 
As soon as spoke, agreed to : but you'll answer, 
And may u itii reason, words make no satisfaction 
For what's in fact committed. Yet, take comfort. 
Something my pious love commands me do, 
Which may call down your pardon. 

Matil. 1 hi- expression 
Of reverence to your person better suits 

[^Raises Lorenzo, and kneels. 
With my low fortune. That you deign to love me, 
My weakness would |iersviade me to believe. 
Though conscious of mine own unworthiness : 
You being as the liberal eye of heaven. 
Which may shine where it pleases, let your beams 
Of favour waim-and comfort, nut consume me! 
For, should your love grow to excess, 1 dare not 
Deliver wiiat 1 fear. 

Lor. Dry your lair eyes; 
I apprehend your doubts, and could be angry. 
If humble love could warrant it, you should 
Nourisli such base thoughts of me. Heavea bear 

witness. 
And, if I break my vow, dart thunder at me. 
You are, and shall be, in my tent as free 
From fear of violence, as a cloister'd nun 
Kneeling before the altar. What 1 purpose 
Is yet an embryon ; but, grown into form, 
I'll give you power to be the sweet disposer 
Of blessings unexjiected ; that your fatiier. 
Your country, people, children yet unborn too. 
In holy hymns, on festivals, shall sing 
The triumph of your beauty. On your hand 
Once more 1 swear it : — O imperious Love, 
Look down, and, as I truly do repent. 
Prosper the good ends of thy penitent! 

[Eaeunt. 



SCENE IL 

The Duchi/. — A Room in Octavio's Cottage. 
Enter Octavio, dhguised as a Priest, and Maria. 

Oct. You must not be too sudden, my Maria, 
In being known : I am, in this friar's habit. 
As yet conceal'd. 1 hough his recovery 
Be almost certain, I must work him to 
Repentance by degrees ; when I would have you 
Appear iu your true shape of sorrow, to 
*^34 



Movi' his lotnpassion, I will stauip thus, then 

\'oir know to Hct vour part 

Mtir. 1 shall be careful. [Exit. 

Oct. If I can cure the ulcers of his mind, 
As 1 despair not of his body's wounds, 
Felicity crowns my labour. — Gothrio! 

Enter Gothrio. 

Gnth. Here, sir. 

Oct. Desire mv patients to leave their chamber, 
And t;ikf (resh air here: how have they slept? 

Golh. \e\y well, sir, 
I would wf were so* rid of them. 

Oci. Why? 

Goth. I tVar one hath 
The art of memory, and will remember 
His gold aii<l jewels : could you not minister 
A pntiun ot forgetfulness? VVhat would gallants 
'1 hai are in deht give me for such a rei^eipt 
To pour ill thf ir creditors' drink ? 

Oct. Von shall restore all, 
Believe't vou shall : — will you please to walk? 

G(ir/i. V\ ill you please to put off 
Your h;'lv habit, and spiced conscience? one 
1 think, infects the other. [Exit 

Oct. 1 have observed 
Compuiic'ion in Alonzo ; he speaks little, 
But full lit retired thoughts : the o'lier is 
Jocund and merrv, no doubt because he hatli 
The less accompt to make here f. 

Enter Alonzo. 

Aloii. Reverend sir, 
I come to wait your pleasure ; but, my friend. 
Your creature I should say, being so myself. 
Willing to lake further repose, eiitre^its 
\'our patii iice a few minutes. 

Oct. At his pleasuie ; 
Prav r*\i sit down ; you are faint still. 

Alon. (irowiiig to strength, 
I ihaiik yiiur goodness: but my mind is troubled. 
Very much troubled, sir, and 1 desire, 
Your jiious habit giving me assurance 
Of your skill .iud power that way, that you would 

please 
To be mv mind's physician. 

Oct. .Sir, to that 
JNIy order binds me ; if you please to unload 
The burthen of your conscience, I will minister 
Such heiiveiily cordials as I can, and set you 
In a patii liiat leads to comfort. 

AioH. I will open 
My bosom's secrets to youj. That I am 
A man of blood, being brought up m the wars. 
And cruel executions, my profession 
Admits not to be question'd ; but iu that, 
Being a subject, and bound to obev 
Whate'er my prince commanded, i have left 



• / would we were so rid of litem.] So the oM copy : the 
moilerii idiii.rs rcHil, J would we were nwu rid of them; 
which, ill t .e language of the aiilhor, is f.iiiilly English ; but 
they "liil luit uiiiieistdiid the passage. 

t J'lie less accomptto maAchcre.] Ailktiicujq, laying hii 
band mi hiA bit^a^t. 

I Aloii. / will open. 

y»/y iMisom's ^ecl•ets<o jott.] This is the old reading, 
and lai mule elegant than ihat which the inndtru editorj 
have inlrtiduced iu its stead,— ^/y bosom-sicrets <o pou. 



486 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act IV 



Some shadow of excuse : witb other crimes, 
As pride, lust, gluttony, it must be told, 
1 am besinear'il all over. 

Oct, On re] It'll I a nee, 
Mercy will wash it off. 

Alon. O sir, 1 grant 
These sins are deadly ones ; yet their frequency 
With wicked mew makes them less dreadful to us. 
Hut I RTu conscious of one crime, with which 
All ills 1 have committed from my youth 
Put ill the scale, weigh nothing ; such a crime, 
So odious to heaven and man, and to 
Mv scar'd-u]) conscience so full of horror, 
As penance cannot expiate. 

Oct. Despair not. 
'Tis iin|iious in man to prescribe limits 
To the divine compassion : out with it. 

Alon Hear then, good man, and when that I have 
given you 
Tho character of it, and confessed myself 
The wretch that acted it, you must repent 
The charity you have extended towards me. 
Not long before these wars began, I had 
Acquaintance ('tis not fit I style it friendship*) 
That being a virtue, and not to be blended 
With vicious breach of faith) with the lord Octavio, 
riie minion of his prince and court, set off 
With all the pomp and circumstance of greatness: 
To this then ha))pv man 1 offer'd service, 
And with insinuation wrought myself 
Into his knowledge, grew familiar with him. 
Ever a welcome guest. 'Ihis noble gentleman 
U'as hless'd with one fair daughter, so he thought. 
And boldly miglit believe so, for she was 
In all things excellent without a rival. 
Till 1. her father's mass of wealth before 
Mv greedy eyes, but hoodwink'd to mine honour, 
With far more subtle aits tiian perjured Paris 
E'er ]jiactisedon poor credulous Oenune, 
Besit-ged her virgin fort, in a word, took it. 
No vows or imprecation forgotten 
Willi sjieed to marry her. 

Oct. Pejliajis she gave you 
Just cause to break those vows. 

Aliiii. She cause! alas. 
Her innocence knew no guilt, but too much favour 
To mi', unworthy of it: 'twas my baseness, 
Mv foul ingratitude — what shall 1 say more'? 
The good (Jctavio no sooner fell 
Ja the displeasure of his prince, his state 
Confiscated, and he foiced to leave the court, 
Ai'd she exposed to want ; but all my oaths 
And protestation of service to her. 
Like seeming flames raised by enchantment, va- 

nish'd ! 
This, this sits heavy here. 

Oct He speaks as if 
He were acquainted with my plot. — You have 

reason 
To feel compunction, for 'twas most inhuman 
So to betray a maid. 

Alon. Most barbarous. 

Oct. But does your sorrow for the fact beget 
An aptness in you to make satist'actioa 
For the wrong you did her ? 



• 'tie not fit I ett/le it friendship, &e ] 

Mr. M. Mason read- — to style it frimdshij), wliich is less 
in Mas^inger's manner, and, to say llie kusl uf it, a capri- 



cious alteration. 



Alcn. Gracious heaven ! anajjtnessT 

It is my only study • since I tasted 

Of your coiiipassion, tln'se eyes ne'er were closed, 

But fearful dreams cut off my little sleep ; 

Anil, being awake, in my imagination 

Her apjiantion haunted me. 

Oct. ' Iwas mere fancy. [He stamps 

Alon. ' I "was more, grave sir — nay, 'tis now 

it ajipears ! 

Enter IMaria. 

Oct. Where? 

Alon.'Do you not see there the gliding shadow 
Of a fair virgin? that is she, and wears 
The very garments that adorn'd her when 
She yielded to my crocodile tears: a cloud 
Of fears and diffidence then so chaced away 
Her jiurer white and red, as it foretold 
I'hat 1 should be disloyal. Blessed shadow ! 
For 'twere a sin, far, far exceeding all 
1 have committed, to hope only that 
Thou art a substance ; look on my true sorrow, 
JJay, soul's contrition : hear again those vows 
My perjury cancell'd stamp'd in brass, and never 
To be worn out. 

Re-enter Gothkio, uith the purses of Alonzo and 
Pisa NO. 

Mar. I can endure no more ; 
Action, not oaths, must make me reparation: 
I am IMaria. 

Alon. Can this be ? 

Oct. It is, 
And ] Octavio. 

Alon. Wonder on wonder I 
How shall 1 look on you, or with what forehead 
Desire your pardon ? 

Mar. You truly shall deserve it 
In being constant. 

Oct. If you fall not off, ^ 

But look on her in poverty with those eyes 
As, when she was my heir in expectation, 
You thought her beautiful. 

AloH. Slie is in herself 
Both Indies to me. 

Goth Stay, she shall not come 
A beggar to you, my sweet young mistress ! no, 
She sliall not want a dower: here's white and led 
Will ask a jointure J but how you should make her 

one. 
Being a captain, would beget some doubt, 
If you should deal with a lawyer. 

Alon. I have seen this purse. 

Goth. How the world's given — I dare not say, to 

lying. 
Because you are a soldier; you may say as well, 
This gold is mark'd too: you, being to leceive it, 
Should ne'er ask how 1 got it. I'll run for a 

priest 
To dispatch the matter ; you shall not want a ring', 
1 haye one for the purpose. — [G'iirs Pisano's ring 
t'l Alonzo.] — Now, sir, 1 think I'm honest. 

lEsit. 
Alon. This ring was Pisano's. 
Oct. I'll dissolve this riddle 
At bettei- leisure : the wound given to my daughter 
V\ hich in your honour you are bound to cure. 
Exacts our present care. 
Alon. I. am all yours, sir. 

^Exeunt 



Scene TII.J 



THE BASHFUL LOVF.R. 



48i 



SCENE III.— ne same. The dntle of St, Leo. 
Enter Gonzaga, Ubertj. oi/t/ IManfroy, 

Gi'n. Tliou hast told too much to give assurance 
that 
Her honour was too fur enganed, to be 
IJv liumaii help redePiiiM : if thou liadst given 
Thy sail narration this full period, 
She's dead, I had been liajipy. 

Uher. Sir, these tears 
Do well hecome a fathfr, and my eyps 
Wouhi keep vuu company as a forlorn lover, 
But that the burning (ire of my revenge 
Dries up those dro])s of sorrow. We once more, 
Our broki^n forces rallied uj), and with 
Full nutnbers streugtheii'd, stand prepared t' en- 
dure 
A second trial ; nor let it dismay us 
That we are once aj^ain to affront the fury 
Ot a viciiirious army ; their abuse 
Of coiujuest hath disarm'd them, and call'd down 
'J he I'owers above to aid us. I ')a\ e read* 
Some piece of story, yet iieVr found but that 
The gnneial, that s^ave wa\ to cruelty. 
The profanation of things sacred, rapes 
Of virgins, butchery of infiints, and 
The massacre in cold blood of reverend age, 
Against the discipline and law of arms. 
Did feel the hand of heaven he heavy on him, 
V\ hen most secure. We Ir.ne had a late example, 
And let us not despair but that, iiiLoienzo, 
It will be iseconiled. 

Lioii. You argue well, 
And 'twere a sin in ineio contradict yon : 
Yet we must not neglect the means that's lent us 
To be the ministers of justice. 

Ulier. No, sir : 
One day given to refre.nh our wearied troops 
Tired vvitl^a tedious march, we'll be no longer 
Coop'd up, but charge the enemy in his trenches. 
And force him to a battle. [b/iocts within. 

Gon. Ha! how's this] 
Li such a general time of mourning, shouts, 
And acclamations of joy? 

[til/ uithiii, Long live the princess ! long 
live Matilda! 

* / have reii'l, &c.] The ilre.iilnit deM-ripti.ni In the text 
crrrcsponils with the dccciiiiil <;iveii of the btwi'iiiiiig of 
Madt;ibiiig, liy I'lllv (the i iipcii.il i;eneral; in l(i:i'>,iii which, 
giiy uur old liitori.iiis " He cm t c throiits oi il.OaO ptT- 
smis, a jui-tiif wliiih is iiiipos'lblc lo be described or 
thoiight ti|H»ii wiihuiil hoiior and detis'ation." Tilly, Ihw- 
ever, wasinoiuUy woniideil by a cannon ^hnt at llie passage 
of the Lech, • few n dirths at ei wards; and v\hat follows il 
the text ileaily sIkh* that Ma-siiii;cr alludes to llie Duke of 
Friedland, who succeeded to the ciminiaiid of theiinpeiiil 
forces, and was noted f.^r every spicies of cruelty, in sli it, 
for all the die.idnd i noriiiilie> ,vhich ilie poet enumerates. 
This duel, who was loo powiifid for contr. 1, was tieacher- 
OMsly assassinated, mhm most sfcnre, by id-r of the Km- 
peror FeiilinaHil. This event tooU place at Lyra, on the 
•.i.'itli of Kibiu.iiy, lli:i4, an ' was d.laili-d in several petty 
pamphlets, liy Nathaniel Bntler, the );eiieral publisher of 
news at that period The example, tlieieloie, as Mas^inarr 
says, ivas a late imp. Alexander Gill lias some lolerabtp 
Verse' on ihe siiliji ct, prelixed lo (ilaplliorii's Tragedy of 
A Ibertus 1 1 a Itcust/'in : — 

Ubi ilia tandem ijnza, q"a Rofwmiam 
S.leaitimque, ui/i ositiie Hrnndeiil.vruirns, 
Fretiis fjeiamhu'dsti ! vbi isl ejereilds 
Oiri) tuorum quo iiiin s roj'uc iionini. 
HtiTn'ciditt, ntuijra^/iiTta, f^tnnerania 
Sa:ye ea ecTiltii )-st , et Mec lenl)>irji> .sinna ? &c. 
* [f^rtjuithin :] Long live the princess! Lony iiee Ma- 
tilda I 

Uher. Matilda ! 

The princesti' name, Matilda, oft re-echo'd.] So the quarto. 



Uher. Matilda.! 
The princess' name. Matilda, oft re-ecboed ! f 

Enter Farnfze. 

Gon. What speaks thy haste ? 

Earn. M rejov and liap|)iness 
Than weak words can deliver, or strong faith 
Almost give credit to : the princess lives; 
1 saw lier, kiss'd her hand. 

Goii. Hy whom deliver'd ? 

Earn. I hat is not to be staled by my report* ; 
This only must he told : — As 1 rode forth 
With soaie choice troojis, to make discovery 
Where the enemy lay, and how entrench'd, a leader 
Of the adverse party, but unarm'd, arid in 
His hand an olive branch, encounter'd me: 
He show'd the great duke's seal that gave him power 
To parley with me ; his desires were, tliat 
Assurance fur his safety might be granted 
'J'o his royal master, who came as a friend, 
And not as an enemy, to offer to you 
Conditions of peace. 1 yielded to it. 
This being returii'd, the duke's prajtorium open'd, 
When suddenly, in a triumiihant chariot 
Drawn by such soldiers of his own as were, 
For insolence after victory, condemn'd 
Unto this slavish office, the fiir princess 
Appear'd, a wreath of laurel on her head, 
Her robes niajestical, their richness far 
Above all value, as the present agef 
Contended that a woman's pomp .should dim 
The glittering triumphs of the Roman Ciesars, 
— I am cut off'; no cannon's throat now thunders 
Nor fife nor drum heat up a cfliarge ; choice musio 
Ushers ihe parent of security, 
Long-abseiii peace. 

]\]aii. I know not what to think on't. 

Uber. May it poise the expectation ! 

\ 
Loud music. Enter Soldiers unarmed, hearing olive 

bnniches. Captains, Loiienzo, M^iii-DA crowned 

with a lorealh oj laurel, and seated in a chaiiot 

drawn hy Soldiers; Jolloaed by Houtentio and 

Mautino. 

Gon. Thus to meet you. 
Great duke of luscany, throws amazement on me ; 
J3ut to behold my d.iughter, long since mourn'd for. 
And lost even to' my hopes, thus honour'd hy you. 
With an excess of < omiort overwhelms me: 
And yet I cannot truly call myself 
llai)])y in this solemnity, till your highness 
Vouchsafe to make me uiulersiand ihe motive 
That, in this peaceful way, hath brought you to us. 

Lor. 1 must crave license first ; for know, 
Goiizaga, 
1 am subject to another's will, and cari 
Nor speak nor do without permission from her. 
My curled forehead, of late terrible 
To those that did acknowledge me their lord, 



The editors have connived to hlnncUr in every possible 
^^i^■, they tir>l advai.ce a inai-inl note into Uie text, ami 
theii de-iade the texl into a lihu-ioal note I , c„ T 

• b\,rii. That in not to be staled by my report, ^o I 
read: the old copy hassiall.l, which i.s printed by the ina- 
<len. ediioiswiih a m,rk ..f aph.vres.,! 1. day supposed U 
(„ be ahridii.d horn forestaU d, tuny must ha.e pretty uo- 

''TA°hoc"a:rvalue, as the present aye, &c.] Coxeter, ami 
Mr M.Mason, noL >et "•^^l''''''-"!. "''l^.V'^ '''''='i;;^,'=„7i 
their author, insert it before the, " a» tj, &c. Even o 
ll.is peity attempt at" iinpioveiueut lluy were compelled to 
SiCiitice bis inetie. 



«88 



THE BASHFUL LOVKR. 



[Act IV 



Is now as smnotli as rivers when no wind stirs; 
Mv frowns or smiles, tli;ii killM or saved, have lost 
Their jio'ent awe, and sweetness : I am trans- 
form d 
(But do not scorn the mefamorjihosis) 
From that fierce thino- men helil me ; I am captived, 
And, bv the unresistible force of beauty, 
Led hither as a prisoner. Is't your pleasure that 
1 shall deliver those injuncti ins which 
Your absolute cotnmand im|)osed upon me, 
Or ileiun yourself to speak them? 

Matil. Sir, I am 
Your property, you mav use me as you please j 
But what is in vour power and breast to do, 
No orator can dilate so well. 

Lor. I obey vou. 
Tliiit 1 came hither as an enemy, 
With hostile arms to the u'ter ruin of 
Your country, what 1 have done makes apparent; 
That fortune seconded mv will, the lute 
Defeature will make jiood ; that 1 resolved 
To lorce the sceptre from vour linnd, and make 
Your dukedom tributary, my surprisal 
Of Mantua, your metropolis, can well witness ; 
And that I cannot fear the change of fate, 
Rly armv flesh'd in blood, spoil, glory, conquest. 
Stand ready to maintain : yet, 1 must tell you 
By whom I am subdued, and yv hat's the ransome 
I am commanded to lay down. 

Oi))i. ]\Iy lord. 
You humble yourself too mucl) ; it is fitter 
You should propose, and we consent*. 

Lor Forbear, 
The articles are here subscribed and sign'd 
By my obedient hand : all prisoners. 
Without a ransome, set at liberty ; 
Mantua to be deliver'd up, the rampires 
Ruin'd in the assault to be repair'd ; 
The loss the husbandman received, bis crop 
Burnt up by wanton license of the soldier. 
To be made gjood ; — with whatsoever else 
You could impose on me if you had been 
The concjueror, 1 your captive. 

Gon. Such a change 
Wants an example: I must owe this favour 
To the clemency of the old heroic valour, 
That spared when it had power to kill ; a virtue 
Buried long since; but raised out of the grave 
By you, to grace this latter age. 

Lor. Mistake not 
The cause that did produce this good effect. 
If as such you receive it : 'twas her beauty 
Wrought first on my rough nature; but the virtues 
Of her fair soul, dilated in her converse, 
That did confirm it. 

Matil. Mighty sir, no more : 

i7 is fitter 



You should propose, and we connent.] So the old copy : 
it seems pertVct as it siaiids, yet CoxctiT and Mr. M. Mason 
have interposed their assistance ; ihey read — 

it is fitter you 

Should first propose, &c. 



You honotir her too much, that is not worthy 
To he your servant. 

Lor. I have done, and now 
Would sr'adlv understand that you allow of 
The articles propounded. 

Gkii. Do not wrong 
Your benefits with such a doubt ; they are 
So great and high, and with such reverence 
To be received, that, if I should profess 
I hold my dukedom from vou as your vassal, 
Or ofi'er'd up my damjhter »r, vou [)lease 
To be disposed of, in the point of honour, 
And a becoming gratitude, 'twould not cancel 
'I'he bond I stand engaged for : — but accept 
Of that which I can pay, my all is yours, sir; 
Nor is there any here (though I must graut 
Some hare deserved much from me), for so far 
I date presume, but will surrender up 
Their interest to that vour highness shall ■ 
Deign to pretend a title. 

Ulier. I subscribe not 
To this condition. 

Fani. i he services 
This prince hath done your grace in your most 

danger, 
Are not to be so slighted. 

Horl. 'Tis far from me 
To urge my merits, yet, I must maintain, 
Howe'er mv power is less, my love is more ; 
Nor vvill the gracious princess scorn to acknow- 
ledge 
I have been her humble servant. 

Lor. Smooth vour brows, 
I'll not encroach upon vour right, for that were 
C*nce more to force affection (a crime 
With which should I the second lime be tainted, 
I did deserve no favour), neither will I 
Make use of what is offer'd bv the duke, 
Howe'er I thank his goodnes. I'll laythy 
My power, and though 1 should not brook a rival 
(VVhat we are, well consider'd), I'll descend 
To be a third com|ietitor ; he that can 
With love and service best deserve the garland. 
With your consent let him wear it ; I despair not 
The trial of my fortune. 

Gon. Bravely offer'd, 
And like yourself, great prince. 

Uher. 1 must profess 
I am so taken with it, that I know not 
Which way to express my service. 

Hort. Did 1 not build 
Upon the princess' grace, I could sit down, 
And hold it no dishonour. 

Maid. How 1 feel 
My soul divided ! all have deserved so well, 
I know not where to fix my choice. 

Gon. You have 
Time to consider : will you please to take 
Possession of the fort 1 then, having tasted 
The fruits of peace, you may at leisure prove 
Whose plt-a will prosper in the court of Love. 

[Extunt 



Scene I.] 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



48? 



ACT V. 



SCENE L— Mantua. A Room in the Palace. 
Enter Alonzo, Octavio, Pisano, Maria, and 

GOIHP.IO. 

Alon. You need not doubt, sir, were not peace 
]irocliiim'd 
And celebrated with a yeneral joy. 
The liiijii displeasure of the Mantuan duke. 
Raised (in just grounds, not jealous suppositions, 
The siiviiig- of our lives (which, next to heaven, 
To you alone is i)roper) would force mercy 
For an offence, ihnugli capital. 

Pisau. When the conquenir 
Uses entreaties, tliey are arm'd commands 
The vanqiiisli'd must not check at. 

Mar. I\lv i)iety pay the forfeit. 
If danger come but near vou ! 1 have heard 
My gracious mistress often mention vou, 
When I served her as a page, and feelingly 
Relate how much the duke her sire rf-pented 
His hasty doom of banishment, in bis lage 
Pronounc'd against vou. 

Oct. In a private difference, 
I grant that innocence is a wall of brass, 
And scorns the hottest battery ; but when 
The cause depends between the prince and subject, 
'Tis an unemial competition ; Justice 
Must lay her balance by, and use her sword 
For his ends ilat protects it. I was banish'd, 
And, till revoked from exile, to tread on 
My sovereiun's territories with fo. bidden feet, 
The sever*letter of the law calls death ; 
Which I am subject to in coming so near 
His court an<l person. But my only child 
Being provided for, her honour saived too, 
I thank your noble change, I shall endure 
Whate'ercan fall, with patience. 

Al<»i. You have used 
That medicine too long ; prepare yourself 
Fur honour in your age, and rest secure oft. 

Mm. Ul what is \our wisdom musing? 

GiiUt. I am gazing on 
This gorgeous house ; our cote's a dishclout to it ; 
It has no sign, what do you call't? 

Mar. I he court; 
I have lived in't a page. 

Guth. I'age ! very pretty : 
May I not he a page ! I am old enough, 
Well-tiniher'd too, an<l I've a beard to carry it; 
Pray you, let me be your page; 1 can swear already 
Upon your pautofle. 

Mill': What? 

G,,lh. That I'll be true 
Unto your smock. 

Mar. I low, rascal I 

Oct. Hence, and pimp 
To your rams and ewes ; such foul pollution is 
To be whipt from court ; I have now no more use 

of you ; 
Return to your trough. 

Ginh. iMust I feed on husks 
Before 1 have play'd the prodigal? 



Oct. No, I'll reward 
Your service ; live in your own element 
Like an honest man ; all that is mine in the cottage 
I freely give you. 

Goth. Your bottles too, that I carry 
For your own tooth ? 
Oct. Full as they are. 

Mar. And gold, [^Gives him her purst. 

That will replenish them. 

Giiih. I am made for ever. 
This was done i'lhe nick. 
Oct. Whv in the nick ? 
Goth. O sir! 
'Twas well for me that you did reward my service 
Before you enter'd the court ; for 'tis reported 
'J'here is a drink of forgetfulness, which once tasted, 
Few masters think of their servants, who, grown 

old. 
Are turn'd off, like lame bounds and hunting 

horses. 
To starve on the commons. \_Exit. 

Alon, Bitter knave ! 

Enter Martino. 

There's craft 
In the clouted shoe. Captain ! 

Mart. 1 am glad to kiss 
Your valiant hand, and yours ; but pray you, take 

notice, 
My title's changed, I am a colonel. 

Pisan. A colonel ! where's your regiment? 

Mart. Not raised yet ; 
All the old ones are cashier 'd, and we are now 
To have a new militia : all is peace here. 
Yet I hold my title still, as many do 
That never saw an enemy. 

Alon. You are pleasant. 
And it becomes you. Is the duke stirring? 

Mart. Long since. 
Four hours at least, but yet not ready. 

Pisau. How ! 

Mart. Even so; you make a wonder oft, but 
leave it : 
Alas, he is not now, sir, in the camp, 
'i'o be up and arin'd upon the least alarum ; 
There's something else to be thought on • here he 

eomes. 
With his officers, new rigg'd. 

Enter Lorenzo, as from his chamber ; Doctor, GentU' 
man, and Page employed about his person. 

Alon. A looking-glass ! 
Upon my bead, he saw not his own face 
These seven years past, but by reflectioa 
From a bright *mour. 

Mart. Be silent, and observe. 

Lor. So, have you done yet? 
Is your building perfect? » 

Doct. If your highness please. 
Here is a water. 

Lor. To what use ' my barber 
Hath wash'd my face already. 

Doct. But this water 



400 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act V 



Hath n strange virtue in't, hpynnd his art ; 
It is a sacred relic, part of that 
RIost powerful juice, with which Medea made 
01(1 «^son vnunir. 

Lor. A liihle ! but suppose 
I sliould s;ive credit to it, will it work 
The same effect on me ? 

Doct. I'll undertake 
Tliis xvill restore the honoiir'd hair that o^rows 
Upon your hiu-hiiess' head and chin, a little 
Incliniiif^ unto gray. 
Lor. Jncli'iing! doctor. 

Di'Ct. Pardon rue, iniohty sir, I went too far, 
Not gray at all ; — ] dare not flatter vou. 
Tis something changed ; but this applied will help 

it 
To the first amber-colour, every hair 
As fresh as when, your manhood in the priiue. 
Your grace arrived a; thirty. 
Lor. Very well. 

Docl. Then here's a precious oil, to which the 
maker 
riafh not yet given a name, will soon fill up 
These dimj)les in vour face and fiont. I grant 
They are terrible to your enemies, and set off 
Your frowns with majesty ; but you may please 
'J'o know, as sure you do, a smooth aspect. 
Softness and sweetness, in the court of Love, 
Though dumb, are the prevailing orators. 
Lor. Will he new-creaie me? 
Doct. If you deign to taste too 
Of this confection. 

Lor. I am in health, and need 
No physic. 

Doct. Physic, sir! An empress. 
If that an empress' lungs, sir, may be tainted 
With putiefaction, would taste of it 
That night on which she were to print a kiss 
Upon the lips of her long-absent lord 
Returning iiome with conquest. 

Lor. ' ['is predominant 
Over a stinking breath, is it not, doctor ? 

Doct. Clothe the infirmity with sweeter language, 
' I is a [)reservative that way. 

Lor. Vou are then 
Admitted to tiie cabinets of great ladies. 
And have the government of the borrow'd beauties 
Of such as write near forty. 

Duct. I'rue, my good lord. 
And my attempts have prosper'd. 

Lor. Did you never 
Minister lo the princess? 

Doct. Sir, not yet ; 
She's in the April of her youth, and needs not 
The aids of art, my grai ious lord ; but in 
'J he autumn of her age I may be useful. 
And sworn her highness' doctor, and your grace 
Partake of the delight. 
Lor. Slave ! witch ! impostor ! 

[.S(ri/c« him down. 
Mountebank! cheater! traitor to great nature, 
In liiy presumption to repair what she 
In lier immutal)le decrees design'd 
For sotne few yeats to grow uj), and then wither I 
Or is't not crime enough thus to betray 
The secrets of the weaker sex, thy patients, 
But thou must make the honour of this age. 
And envy of the time to come, Matilda, 
Wliose sacred name I bow to. guilty of 
A. future sin in tlij ill-boding thoughts. 



W hich for a pert)eiiiily of youth 

And pleasure she disdains to act, such is 

Her purity and innoience ! 

[Sets his font on the Doctor's breast 
Alnn, Long since 
I Jook'd for this Tenvoy*. 

Mart. Would I were well off.' 
He's dangerous in these humours. 
Oct. Stand conceal'd. 

Docl. O sir, have me'cy ! in my thought I never 
Offended you. 

Lor. i\Ie ! most of all, thou monster! 
What a mock-man property in thy intent 
Wouldst tbou have made me? a mere pathic to 
Thy devilish art, had 1 given stiffnige to it. 
Are my gray liairs, the ornament of a^e, 
Aiul he^d a blessing by the wisest men. 
And for such warranted by holy writ, 
To be coiiceal'd, as if they were mv shame? 
Or plaister up these furrows in my face. 
As if I were a painted bawd or whore ? 
By such nase means if that [ could ascend 
To the height of all my ho|)es, their full fruition 
Would not wipe off the sc^iii al : no, thou wretch ! 
Thy cozening water and adulterate oil 
I thus ])our in thine eves, and tread to dust 
Thy loath'd confection with thy trumperies : — 
Vanish for ever ! 

Mart. You have your fee, as I take it, 
Dear Doinine doctor 1 I'll be no sharer with you. 

[ I- sit Doctor. 
Lor. I'll court her like mj'self ; these rich adorn- 
ments 
And jewels, worn by me, an absolute prince, 
My order too, of which I am the sovereign, 
Can meet no ill construction ; yet 'tis far 
PVom mv imagination to believe 
She can be taken with sublime clay, 
The silk-worm's sjioils, or rich embroideries ; 
Nor must I borrow helps from power or greatness 
But as a loyal lover plead my cause ; 
If I can feelin-jly express my ardour. 
And make her sensible of the much I suffer 
In hopes and fears, and she vouchsafe to take 
Compassion im me,— ha ! compassion ? 
The word sticks in my throat: what's here, that 

tells me 
I do descend too low ? rebellious spirit, 
I conjure thee to leave me ! there is now 
No contradiction or declining left, 
I must and will go on. 

Mart. Tlie temjiests laid ; 
You may present yourselves. 

[Alouzo and Pisano come forward, 
Alon. My gracious lord. 
Pisdu. Your humble vassal. 
Lor. Ha ! both living ? 
Aim. Sir, 
We owe our lii'es to this good lord, and make it 
Our humble suit 



' Alon. I^onp since 

I look' d for this I'envoy.] i.e. for this terniinaiion. The 
I'envot/ \f, t\pl, lined with {jreiit ;u-i-nracy liy ('i>ti;i.ivu : lie 
sajs, " it is die conclusion of h bajiatl or soiiiiel in h short 
st.inzal>\ iisilf, an I stiA'in^, ot'tciiliini's, as a il lihation nf 
the tthule. In French pcictry, I envoy soniilinKs >erv'S to 
convey llic nior.il of the piece: but onr olil ilr.iniatists, in 
adoptui^ l' e vvoril, (lisrei; utled the sense, and seldiin mean 
more by it tli ni conclusion, or end. It occins iti >iiak 
spe.ire, Junsoii, FleKlier, and, indeed, in must ut uur aii;iea 
writers. 



Scene III.] 



THE UASHFUL LOVER. 



Lor. Plead for yourselves: we stand 
Yet unresolved wliellier your knees or prayers 
Can save tlie forfeiture of your own heads : 
Though we have put our armour oft', your pardon 
For leaving of the camp witiiout our license 
Is notyet sign'd. At some more tit time wait us. 
[Exeunt Lorenzo, Gentleman, aiul Page. 

Alon. How's this? 

Mart. Tis well it is no worse ; I met with 
A rougher entertainment, yet I had 
Good cards to show. He's parcel mad ; you'll find 

liim 
f^verv hour in a several mood ; this foolish love 
Is such a shuttlecock ! but all will be well 
When a better fit comes on bun, never doubt it. 

[^Eieunt. 



SCENE II. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter Gonzaoa, Uberti, Farneze, and MANrnDY. 

Gon. llov do you find her ? 

Uber. Thankful for my service, 
And yet she gives me little hope ; my rival 
Is too great (or me. 

Gon. The great duke, you mean ? 

Uher. Who else ? the Milanese, although he be 
A complete gentleman, 1 am sure despairs 
More than mvself. 

Farn. A high estate, with women. 
Takes, place of all desert. 

Uber. 1 must stand my fortune. 

Enter Lorenzo and Attendants, 

Man. The duke of Florence, sir. 

Gon. Your highness' presence 
Answers my wish. Your private ear : — I have 

used 
My best persuasion wiih a father's power 
To work my daughter to your ends ; yet she, 
Like a small bark on a tempestuous sea, 
Toss'd here and there by opposite winds, resolves 

not 
At which port to put in. This prince's merits. 
Your grace and favour ; nor is she unmindful 
Of the brave acts (under your pardon, sir, 
I needs must call them so) Hortensio 
Hath done to gain her good opinion of bim; 
All these together tumbling in her fancy, 
Do much distract her. 1 have spies upon her, 
And am assured this instant hour she gives 
Hortensio private audience , I will bring you 
Where we will see and hear all. 

Lor. You oblige me. 

Uber. I do not like this whispering. 

Gon. Fear no foul play. [Exei(nt. 



SCENE III. Another Boom in the same. 

EnUr Hortensio, Beatrice, and two Waiting 
Women. 

1 Worn. The princess, sir, long since expected 
you ; 
And, would I beg a thanks, I could tell you that 
I have often moved her for you. 

Hort. I am your servant. 



Enter Matilda. 

Beat. She's come ; there are others I must 
to hear 
The conference. 

1 Worn. Is't your excellency's pleasure 
That we attend you ? 

Matil. No ; wait me in the gallery. 

1 Worn. Would each of us, wench, had a s 
heart too, 

To pass away the time ! 

2 Worn. I'here 1 joiu with you. 

[Exeunt Wailing H 
Mutil. I fear this is the last time we shall m 
Hort. Heaven forbid I 



491 

place 
[Exit. 



men. 

eel. 



Re-enter above Beatrice with Lorenzo, Gonzaga, 
Uberii, and Farneze. 

Matil. O my Hortensio ! 
In me behold the miseiv of greatness. 
And that which you cull beauty. Had I been 
Of a more low condition, 1 might 
Have call'd my will and faculties mine own, 
Not seeing that which was to be beloved 
With others' eyes: but now, ah me, most wretched 
And miseriible princess, in my fortune 
I'o be too much engaged for service done me 1 
It being impossible to make satisfaction 
To my so many creditors ; all deserving, 
I can keep touch with none. 

Lor. A sad exordium. 

Matil. You loved me long, and without hope 
(alas, 
I die to think on't !)- Parma's prince, invited 
With a too partial report of what 
I was, and might be to him, left his country, 
To fight in my defence. Your brave achievementa 
I' the war, and what you did for me, unspoken, 
Because I would not force the sweetness of 
Your modesty to ablush, are written here: 
And, that there migiit be nothing wanting to 
Sum up my numerous engagements (never 
In ray hopes to be cancell d), the great duke, 
Our mortal enemy, when my father's country 
Lay 0|ien to his fury, and the spoil 
Ot the victorious army, and I brought 
Into his power, hath shown himself so noble, 
So full of honour, temperance, and all virtues* 
1'bat can set oft" a prince, that, though 1 cannot 
Render him that respect I would, I am bound 
Jn thankfulness to admire him. 

Hort. 'lis acknowledged, 
And on your part to be return'd, 

Matil. How can I, 
Without the brand of foul ingratitude 
To you and prince Ubertil 

Hort. Hear me, madam. 
And what your servant shall with zeal deliver. 



• So Jull of honour, temperance, and alt virtues] .shall 
give tliit aiul llie six followini^ lines, as Ihey sl,iiiil n Cox 
eter and Mr. M. Mason. A bt^tler specimen cannul be de- 
sired of tlie tideli'y, good ta>te, and critical knowledge with 
wliicli lliese guiillcinen performed tlieir editorial duties. 
Their inlerpolatinns are in Roman characters: 
So full /i/' strictest honour, temperance. 
And all virtue's that can stt off a prince. 
That, though 1 cannor render him that respect 
J would, im bound in thankfulness I' admire him. 

Ci.tl. '7'u- acknowledy'd, and on your yart 
To be return'd. 

Matil. But oh > howcaji I,iie. 



i92 



BASHFUL LOVER. 



[Act V. 



As a DaBdalean clew may guide you out of 

This liiliyiiiiili ot ilistractioii*. He tliat loves 

His iDisirci.ss trulv, should prefer her lionour 

And j>eace of mind above the j;lutiinij of 

His ravenous iippeiite he slioulii affeci her 

But wiih a lil restraint, iind not take from lier 

To fjive liiniself : lie should make it ihe i)Hi>;lit 

Of liis ambition, if it lie in 

His siretch'd-out nerves to efl'ect it, though slie 

fly in 
An eminent ]ilacpt, to add strenuth lo her wings, 
And mount her lii!;her, though lie tail hiiii-elf 
Into the bottomless abyss ; or else 
The services he i.flers are not real. 
But coiinterttit. 

Rlatil. VV'liat can Hortensio 
Infer injin this ? 

Hoit. riiat 1 stand bound in duty 
(Thoiigli ill the act 1 Isike my last larewell 
Of Comfort in tlds lite) to Sit do«ii willingly, 
And move my suit no further. 1 confess. 
While you weie in danger, and heaven's mercy 

made me 
Its instriiiuent to preserve you (which your good- 
ness 
Prized far above the merit), I was bold 
To feed my st.iived affection with false hopes 
I might be worthy of you; for know, madam, 
How mean soever I appear'd in Aiantuu, 
I had ni expect. ition a t'ortune. 
Though not possess'd of 't, that encouraged me 
With confidence to prefer my suit, and not 
To fear the prince Uberti as my rival. 

Gun. 1 ever tiiuught him more than what be 
seeni'd. 

Lor. l^ray you, forbear. 

Hurt. But wlien the duke of Florence 
Put in his plea, in my consideration 
Weighing Well what he is, as you must grant hira 
A Mars of men in arms, and, ihose put off, 
J'he great e.\aiii|)le for a kingly courtier 
To iinitate ; annex lo these his wealth. 
Of such a large extent, as other monarchs 
Call him the king of coin ; and, what's above all, 
His lawful love, with all the happiness 
This life can lawcy, from him flowing to you ; 
Tlie true affection which J have ever borne you. 
Does not alone command me to desist. 
But, as a faithful counsellor, to advise you 
To meet and welcome ihat felicity 
Which hastes lo crown your virtues. 

Lor. We must break off this parley. 
Something I have to say. [ Exeunt above. 

Maii\. in tears I thank 
Your care of my anvancement : but I dare not 
Follow your counsel. Shall such piety 
Pass unrewarded? such a pure affection. 
For any ends of mine, be undervalued ? 
Avert it, heaven ! I will be thy Matilda, 
Or cease to be ; no other heat but what 
Glows i'rom thy purest flames, shall warm this 

bosom, 
Nor Florence, nor all inonarchs of the earth. 
Shall keej) thee from me. 

• '/'hin ialfi/rinl/i of di-traction ] Si> Ihe old copy : the 
modern editois c.iprieiunsly ivud—'J'his liibijt iiilh o/iie-lriic- 
lioii I Eve|-_ pase, and rtlnu..-t every >pee<li, teems «illi 
eiinilar ahsindiln s. Tliree lines beluw, ihiy omit her, 
which desiKiys the meahni<; nf tlie whole sentence. 

t An eminent place, i.e. height. 



Re-enter helnw Lorenzo, Gonzaga, Uberti, 
Fakneze, and AIanfiiov. 

Hnrl. I fear, gracious lady. 
Our conference hath been overheard. 

Miitil. 'Ihe belter; 
Your part is acted ; give me leave at distance 
To zany it. Sir, on my knees thus prostrate 
Before your feet 

Lor. 'I'his must not be, I shall 
Boili wrong invself and j'ou in suffering it. 

Blatil. 1 will grow here, and, weejiing thus tiini 
mai hie. 
Unless you bear and grant the first petition 
A virgin, and a princess, ever tendered ; 
i\o.r doth the suit concern poor me alone, 
It hath a stronger reference to vou. 
And to your honour; and, if yon der.v it. 
Both ways you suffer. Remember, sir, you were 

not 
Born only for yourself; heaven's liberal hand 
Design'd you to command a potent nition. 
Gave you heroic valour, which you have 
Abused in making unjust war njion 
A neighbour-prince, a Christian ; while the Turk, 
Whose scourge and terror yon should be, se- 
curely 
Wastes the Italian confines ; 'tis in you 
To force him to pull in his horned crescents. 
And 'tis expected from you. 

Liir. 1 have been 
In a dream, and now begin to wake. 

Muiil. And will \ou 
Forbear to rea]i the harvest of such glories. 
Now ripe, and at full growth, for the embraces 
Of a slight woman? or exchange voiir triumphs 
For chamber-|)leasures, melt your able nervt-s 
( 1 hat should with your victorious swfird make way 
'I'hrough the armies of your enemies) in loose 
And wanton ilalliance? Be yourself, great s^r. 
The thunderbolt of war, and .scorn to sever 
Two hearts long since united ; your example 
IMay teach the prince Uberti to subscribe 
To that which \ou allow of. 

Lit. l he same tongue 
That charm'd my sword out of my hand, and threw 
A frozen numbness on my active spirit. 
Hath disenchanted me. Rise, fairest princess! 
And, that it may a|ipear I do receive 
Your counsel as inspired from heaven, I will 
Obey and foliow it : I am youi debtor. 
And must confess you have lent my weaken'd 

reason 
New strengths once more to hold a full command 
Over my passions. Hereto th>- world 
1 (reely do jiroiess that I disclaim 
All interest in you, and give up my title,' 
Such as it is, to you, sir; and, as far 
As 1 have pow. r, thus join your hands. 

Gon. To yours 
I add my full consent. 

Uber. I am lost, Farneze. 

Farn. Much nearer to the port than you suppose.' 
In me our laws speak, and forbid tins contract. 

Mali!. Ah me, new stops ! 

Hort. Shall we be ever cross'd thus? 

Fain, lliere is an act upon record, coiifirm'd 
By your wise jiredecessors, that no heir 
Of Mantua (as i]uestionless the princess 
Is the undoubted one) must be joined in marriage 



Scene TIL] 



THE BASHFUL LOVER. 



493 



But where the mateh may strengthen the estate 

And safe'v of the dukedom. Now, this gentleman, 

However I must style him honourable, 

And of a lii^h desert, havinjr "o power 

To make tins good in his alliance, stands 

Excluded by our laws ; whereas this prince. 

Of equal merit, brings to Mantua 

The ])ower ;ind principality of Parma: 

And, therefore, since the great duke hath let fall 

His ]ilea, there lives no prince that justlier can 

Challen-e the princess' favour. 

Lor. Is this true, sir ? 

Con. 1 cannot contradict it. 

Enter Manfroy. 

Man. There's an ambassador 
From Milan, that desires a piesent audience; 
His business is of highest consequence, 
As he iittiims : I know him for a man 
Of the best rank and quality. 

Hori. From Milan ' 

Gou. Admit him. 
Elder Ambassador und .Ti'lio with a letter, which he 
praents on his knee to Galeazzo. 
How ! so low I 

Amb. I am sorry, sir, 
To be the bringer of this heavy news ; 
But since it must be known 

Gal. IVace rest with Lim ! 
I shall find filter time to mourn liis loss. 
My iiiiihl'ul servant too ! 

Jul. I am o'erjoy'd, 
To see your highness safe. 

Gul. I'ray you, peruse this. 
And iheie vonll find tli it the objection 
The ;or<l raini-ze maile, is fully -.uiswer'd. 

Goii. The great John Galeas dead 1 

Lor. And tills his brother. 
The abso'ute lord of Milan ! 

Mutil. 1 am revived. 

Ulier. 'I here's no contending against destiny ; 
I wish hoth happiness. 

Enter Ai.onzo, Makia, Octavio, Pisano, and 
Maktino. 

Lor. Married, Alonzo ! 
1 will saluie your lady, she's a fair one. 
And seal your pardon on her lips. [A'isses Maria. 

Gon. {)( tavio ! 
Welcome, e'en to my heart*. Rise, I should kneel 
To thee for mercy. 

Oct. The poor remainder of 
My age sliidl truly serve you. 

Mutil. Vou resemble 
A page 1 h;id, Ascanio. 

Miir. I am 
Your highness' servant still. 



• Coiiz. Octavio, 

lJ'elcomf,c'en.to my hrart, &c.l Masfiiiger had involved 
hisplut in a considerable ditficnliy, and it must be candidly 
ackno»ledi;id that he has >hi)uii but little contrivance in 
extiicaliui it. Nothing can he more inartificial than the 
«udden iie.itli of " tlie great John G.dea-:" and, certainly, 
an opp'rtiinily for a nioviug scene was here piescnied in the 
rcconcileiiu lit of Gonzaga and Octavio: but the play had 
reached its ii 11 length, and "as, therefore, of necessity to be 
abruptly concluded. Vcrj^litile ingenuity iiiinht have made 
the catastiophe more worthy of the coiniiienceoient. 

The siory'is interesting, and though sritliciei.lly ilivcrsified, 
neillur improbable nor unnatural ; the l.ingii.igc of the su- 
perior characters is highly poetic, and very biautitul. 



Lor. All stand amazed 
At this unlooked-for meeting ; but defer 
Your several stones. Fortune here hath shown 
Her various power; but vinue in the end 
Is crown'd wiih laurel; Love hath done his parts 

too ; 
And mutual friendship, after bloody jars. 
Will cure the wounds received in our wars. 

[Exeunt 



]■. P I L O G U E. 

Phay you, gentlemen, keej) your seats ; something 

I would 
Deliver to gain favour, if I could, 
To us, and the still doubtUil auihor. He, 
When I de'jired an epilo-ue, answer i .1.?, 
" 'Twas to no purpose • he must st.aid his fate, 
" Since all entreaties now woukl come too Uite ; 
" You being long bince resolved what you would 

say 
'' Of him, or tis. as you rise, or of the play." 
A strange old lellow ! yet ihis sullen mood 
Would (juicklv leave him, might it be understood 
You par»,_not hence disj leased. 1 am ilesign'd 
To give him ceriacii notice : if \ou find 
Things worth Nonr liking, show it. Hope and fear. 
Though difi'ereiit passions, have tiie sell-siime ear*. 



• This Play bears many marks of the heroic or chivalrous 
iTianiu IS, or.ot tn.th lognlier. Some ol tlirse we •^i e in the 
inipaitial .idiiiis-ii.n ol the !^er\iies of .ill the mini. is of Ma- 
tild.i ; in her free aicciit.iiice of the peisi nil dcMilion of 
Galeazzo, ihoiigli he makes his appro.ich only as a gentle 
stianger, and piiticiilail\ in the e\lr,iordin.ir> ciemency cf 
Lorcn'/o, and his inagn.uiiiiioiis siiiremhr of the beauteous 
objtct won b) his valour. In some ol the pieceding Flays, 
iht reader will have lib-erved lertaiu traces of llii.^e manners. 
Among the g ievaiic. s to be redre-sed in The I arUf/ment 
0/ /.ou« aie Iho.-e of " di-d.iined lovei.s." When Alniira 
(a iery lloman) abruptly •i.-niisses Don John, she is re- 
proved for It, as ottering an on r.^ge to her lii.h "breeding," 
,ind as guilty of alino-t a " b.irb.ii 19:11.' And Caniiola 
(Maid vf jionnur) tolerates the pietensions of Seignior 
Sj 11: himself, and pr. .sc ves the nccessarj decomni by stj ling 
hiiii her servant. V\ ilhuiit some snch Mipposiiion as this, it 
woidd be (litlicult 10 aeconnt tor the inc. ngiuilies which ap- 
pear III this Play ; Waul, 1. 1 word I act v\iiiu)Ui discntion, and 
would lose her deli.aey and her digni'y ■ aiiil Loieii/.o, who, 
indeed, on any siip(io-ili<in, calinoi svliolly csc.ipe censure, 
would hardly be allowed to retain his senses. It seems, 
iherelore, to be the ( bje. t of the story to bl izon the eliects 
ot M.ililda's beauty, an 1 to esliilnl ilie double heroism t( 
action ill Gala/./.o, .iiid of forbearance in Lunnzo. Several 
passages of the Pl.i) tend to siiugest this view <.fii,aiid par- 
ticularly one, in tvl.ich the clemency of Lorenzo i.- expressly 
compliiiiented by Gonzaga, a- the true aUtn;lant of the 
" old heroic valonr,"— 

" a virtue 

Buried long since, but raised out of the grave 

By yon, to grace this l.itier age.'' 
The age itseli, in which the events are supj-'osed to take 
place, is fi.\eil in the la9l scene by ihe death of the great 
John Galeas. But why a gieit Duke of Floieiice, or a 
duke of Mantua, should be attributed to an age whii h knew 
of none, or \\\i^ a war should be invented between Mantua 
and Florence, in.-tead of the union of both against the ambi- 
tion of Galeas hiiii-elf, it would be useless to inquire. 
Ma.-siiiger, or the writer from whom he draws his story, 
cares notliing f<u' l\\\>, and accmiiplishes his purpose ol 
amusement by personages call; d from any age or country: 

Dlssuihila Imia cnncordi pace liytivit. 
One circnnistance i~ rem.irkable. Just belore the death 
of Galeas is announced, iMatilil.i iiicidcniallv entreats Lo- 
renzo to point his arms again,-t the Turks, llicn securely 
wasting the "Italian roiihnes." In another part of the 
Play, he is extolled for his splendour, and (iroverbially 
nameil the " king of coin," And we know that somewhat 
within a century Irom the death of Gale is, Lorenzo (the 



494 



THE BASFIFUL L0VE3F 



[ActV 



magnificent) was the chief iintrumenl of the expulsion of 
the Viiik> fioin Olraiil", aii'l Orcaiiie, what Miililrla wishes 
him to hi', their " scdiiiif aiiti lenor." It vvoulcl be very 
desirahle to kiiiiw ir.xiiwhat book of strange adventures 
this and the plots of s.nne oi ilie other Plays are derived; 
but this is a pii ce of inform -tion wliich I am wholly unable 
to give. Meanwhile, it mnsi bi- said on behalf of Ma-singer 
himself, that tlii> Play is agreeably written. The language 
is chaste, and of a temperate dmnity, and is well adapted 
to the higher conversation of the stage. Some of the scenes, 
loo, have consiileiab e etlect; (he reception of the ambassi- 
dor in the tirstacti- stalely and impressive, and the patriot* 
ism which It 1 alls tonh is only inrerior in animalion to that 
in The Hondmnn. The contes-ion scene, too, in the fourth 
Act, i- inieresting, and reminds iis, iliongh at some distance. 
Of The Eiiipfror i>f the k'tist ; and the iliscove.y of Maria 
by her father is preity and alteciing S.mie of ihe charac- 
ters too are well <lrawn. Matilila has a plea-ing inixiiiie of 
dignity and coiidesien-iotr, is gemnms deiicale, and noble- 
minded, and (a circiuii.- t.>nce which Rl.iss-iiger delights to 
represent), is won by the modesty of her lover. Ualeaz/o 
himself is i:.oiigly described, boili in his dillidrnce «n(l his | 
keroism; '<r^J tits '.ran^iliom ironi itie cue to XUe other at Uec 



command, is highly animating. The principal fault? arise 
Irom the manig.nunl : the contrivances are soimiimes re- 
dundant and sometimes del.clivc; either they are ac.uinu- 
lated without an answ, rable ettect, or thiy are mtldield 
when a small employment of them would jiiateii.lly ulieve 
the story, 'i'heie is also a vei bo.seiitss in some of the 
speeches, and more taineiiess than usual in tlie sollUxiuies. 
He, whose thoughts liiiisi ioto solitary speech, shollk^uass* 
witn brevity and passion, from one circumstance lo anoiher' 
and, f^or the purposes of the st ge, shouhl substanially con- 
vey his inlelligence to ihe audience, while he a|ipears only 
to labour under the disorder of his own feelings. Uiit this 
double management is generally loo delicate lor M.issin.'er • 
and the soliloquies of this Play are direct and ciiciimsiaiuiai 
narrations, which might be addressed to another peisi.n. 

A pleasing moral arises from the characier of (Jaie.i/.zo: 
it teaches us that modesty i- essentially connected uiili true 
meiit. The vu!>:ar. who, like the attendants of Malilda, 
are fond of boIdiK.ss, may look on it with contemjit ; bin let 
It not despair: the eye of taste and sense will m,,ik it for 
distinction and reward, and even those will join in allow- 
iiig Its fieseits, who feel themselves eclipsed by its aupe- 
iioiity — Db. lUEijiMD. *^ 



THE OLD LAW. 



TiiF. Oi.D Lsw.] Of this Comedy, which is said to have been writlen by Massinger, MuldUton, and 
Rowlej'. in conjimciion, there is but one edition, the quarto of lti;j6. which appears to be a Irasty traa- 
Bcript from the promjiter's book, made, as 1 have observed, wlien ihe necessities of the actors, now 
grievously oppressed by the republicans, compelled them, for a temixmn-v resource, to take advantage of a 
popular name, and bring forward such pieces as they yet possessed in manuscript. 

Of Middleton and Rowley some notice has been' already taken: I have therefore only to repeat what 
is haziirded in the Introduction, my persuasion that the share of Massinger, in this strange composition, is 
not I he most considerable of the three, 

i'his Play was printed for Edward Archer: it does bim no credit ; for a work so full of eriovs, and 
tiiose too of' the most gross and ridiculous kind, has seldom issued from the press. Hundreds ol the more 
obvious are corrt-cted in silence ; others, with the attempts to remove tlieni, are submitted to tha reader, 
who (if he thinks the enquiry worth his labour), will here find The Old Law far less irregular, unmetrical, 
and unintelligible, than in any of the preceding editions. 

This drama was once very popular. The ti'tle of the quarto is. "The excellent Comedy called The Old 
Law, or A New Way to Please i'oit.— Acted before the King and Queen at Salisbury House, and at several 
other places with great applause." 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



EvANDFR duke of Epire. 
CnATii.i'S, (he ei ecu tinner. 
Creon, lather to Simonides. 

Sl.MONII'FS, ) fy ,■ 

/-, } youiis Li'Urtiei'S, 

Lleamiies, i ^ ° 

Lysandkh, hiishand to Eugenia, and unc/e to Cleanthes, 

Leomdi s, /(it/ier to Cleanthes. 

Gnoimo, the clown. 

Luiv tiers. 

Courtiers. 

Dancing-master. 

Butter, \ 

Bailiff, > Sertiantf to Creon. 

Tailor, J 



ntan, -v 
an, K 



Also Servants to Creon. 



Cocchntan, 

Fnotm 

Cook, 

Clerk. 

Drawer. 

Antigona, wife to Creon. 

HiPPOLiTA, wile to Cleanthes. 

Eugenia, tcij'e to Lysander, and mother to Parthenia. 

J^ARHIEMA. 

Agatha, wife to Gnotho. 

Old uomeii, wires to Creon's servants. 

Courtezan. 



Fiddlers, Servants, Guard, ^c. 



SCENE, Epire. 



ACT I. 



SCENE l.—A Uoom in Creon's House. 

Enter Simonides and two Lawyers. 

Sim, Is the law firm, sir? 

1 Law. The law ! what more firm, sir, 
More powerful, forcible, or more permanent? 

Sim. By my trotb, sir, 
I partly do believe it; conceive, sir, 
You have indirectly answered my question. 
I did not doubt the fundamental grounds 
Of law ill general, for the most solid ; 
But tliis p;ir icular law thiit me concerns 
No\\- Ht t!ie present , iCilKit be firm and strong, 
And powerful, Hiid lorcible, and permanent. 
I am a young man tliat h.is an old father. 



2 Loir. Nothing more strong, sir. 
It is — Secuiidum stututum principis, confirmatum cum 
voce senatus, et voce reipublicte ; naj, coustimmutum^ 
et exempt if ctttum. 
Is it not in force 

When divers have already tasted it. 
And paid their lives for penalty ? 

.Sim. 'lis true. 
]\Iy fa her must be next ; this day comjiletes 
Full fourscore years upon him. 

2 LuuK He is liere, then, 
Sub poena sUttiiti ; hence I can tell him. 
Truer tlian all the |)hysicians in ih.e world. 
He cannot live out to-moirow ; fliis 
Is the most certain climacterical year — 



THE OLD LAW. 



LACT 



'Tis past all danger, for ther»''s no escaping it. 
What age is your mother, sir? 

Sim. Failli, near her days too ; 
Watits some two of threescore, 
1 Law. So ! she'll drop awiiy 
One of these days too : here's a good age now 
For those that have old parents, and rich inherit- 
ance ! 
Sim. And, sir, 'tis profitable for others too : 
Are thf'ie not fellows that lie bedrid in their offices 
Tliat vouiiger men would w alk lustily in ? 
Churchnu-P], that even the second infancy 
Hath silenced, yet have spun out their lives so 

long 
That nianv pregnant and ingenious spirits 
Have lanvuish'd in their hoped reversions, 
And (lied "|ion the thought? and, by your leave, 

sir. 
Have you not places fill'd up in the law 
By some grave senators, that vou imagine 
Have held them lung enough, and such spirits as 

you, 
Were they removed, would leap into their dignities? 
1 Law. Die (juibiis ill ienis, et eris milii yriagiius 

Apollo*. 
Sim. Hut tell me, faith, your fiiir opinion : 
Is't not a sound and necessary law 
This, by the liuke enacted? 

1 Law. Never did Greece, 

Our ancient seat of brave philosophers, 
'Mongst all her voniothetx and lawgivers. 
Not when she flourish'd in her sevenfold sages, 
Whose living memory can never die, 
Produce a law more grave and necessary. 
Sim. I am of that mind too. 

2 Law. 1 will maintain, sir, 
Draco's oligarchy, that the government 
Of community reduced into few. 
Framed a fair sate ; Solon's chrei>knpia\ 

That cut ofi"])0or men's debts to their rich creditors, 

Was good and charitable, but not full, allow'd ; 

His aeiscatheia did lelbrin that errorj. 

His honourable senate of Areopaniiae. 

Lycurgus was more loose an 1 gave too free 

And licentious reins unto his discipline ; 

As that a young woman, in her husband's weak- 

.less, 
Might choose her able friend to propagate ; 
That so the commonwealth might be siip])lied 
With hope of histy spirits. Plato did err. 
And so did Aristotle, in allowing 
Lewd and luxurous limits to their laws : 
But now our Epire, our Epire's l^vander. 
Our noble and wise prince, has hit ihe law 
That all our predecessive students 
Have missed unto their shame. 

Killer Cleanthes. 
Sim. Forbear the jiraise, sir, 
'Tis in itself most pleasing : — Cleanthes ! 
O, lail, here's a spring for young plants to flourish ! 
The old trees must down that keep the sun from us ; 
We shall rise now, boy. 



• Law. Die qit'.bus, &c.] This lavtyer is a very clever 
fellow, but 1 do not see ihe drift of liis niioulioii. 

+ ■ 'Vo/o/t »■ cliieukiipi.i.j XptOJKOTTia 

Bignifies the ciiiti: j; oft lliai p.iit nt tin dcbi wliicli aru>c 
from llie iiiteiL->i i.t '.lie Mini liiii. - M. Masi.n. 

X His seiscatlii-i« did reform that, errar. Eftffav'irt , 
I.e. a siiakini; on a burlht'ii, iriet.i|>luMif,ilK , an ab.liti.jn of 
debt. 'I'liis l,iuyi|-,s notions ot lioiicsty Would have lilted bun 
for oue of Jsoloii'bcuunstllurs. 



Clean. Whither, sir, I jiray? 
To the bleak air of storms ; among those trees* 
Which we had shelter from? 

Sim. Yes, from our growth 
Our sap and livelihood, and from our fruit. 
What ! tis not jubilee with thee yet, I think. 
Thou look'st so sad on't. How old is tliy father? 

Clean. Jubilee ! no, indeed ; 'tis ,> bad year with me, 

Sim. Prithee, how old's thy father! then I can 
tell thee. 

Clean. I know not how to answer you, Si» 
monides ; 
He is too old, being now exposed 
Unto the rigour of a cruel edict ; 
And yet not old enough by m:iny years. 
Cause Pd not see him go an hour before me. 

Sim. These very passions I speak to my fatherf. 
Come, come, here's none but friends here, we may 

speak 
Our insides freely ; these are lawyers, man, 
An'l shall be lounsellors shortly • 

Clean. They shall be now, s\T, 
And shall have large fees if they'll undertake 
To help a good cause, for \i wants assistance ; 
15ad ones, 1 know, they can insist ujion. 

1 Law. Oh, sir, we mu st undertake of both [larts } 
But the good we have most good in. 

Clean, Prav you, say. 
How do you allow ot this strange edict ? 

1 Law. Secundum justitiam ; bv inv faith, sir. 
The happiest edict that ever was in Epire. 

Clean. V\ hat, to kill innocents, sir ? it cannot be. 
It is no rule in justice there to punish. 

1 Law. Ob, sir. 
You under.-.tand a conscience, but not lawj. 

Clean. Why, sir, is there so main a diflerence? 

1 Laiv. You'll never be good lawyer if you un- 
derstand not that. 

Clean. I think, then, 'tis the best to be a bad one. 

1 Law. Why, sir, the very letter and the sense 
both do overthrow you in this statute, which speaks 
that every mtiii living to fourscore years, and wo- 
men to threescore, shall then be cut off as I'ruitless 
to the republic, and law shall finish what nature 
linger'd at. 

Clean. And this suit shall soon be dispatch'd in 
law ? 

1 Law. It is so plain, it can have no demur, 
The church-book overthrows it. 

Clean. And so it does^ ; 
The cliurch-book overtrows it if you read it well. 



• Clean, Whifher, sir, /pray? 
To the bleak air of xtorm.t ; among those trees 
U'hich tie had shelter from.''] This short speech is a 
pretty intr.idnclion to llie filial piety and tenderness which 
form ihf characier of Cleanthes. 

' + Sim. These very passions / speak to my father,} i. e. 
these palhelic speeches: this word ocems fieuneiuly in our 
old writers, for a short monody or sons of the plaintive kind, 
'i'hns Tomkins ; Not a one shakes his lail, bill I sii^liouta 
passion. — Albumazar. 
I 1 Law Oh, sir. 

You understand a conscience, but not law.] These earned 
gentlemen make very free with their profession ; but the 
distinction is a <;ood one. 
§ Cle.iii. And .vo ('/ does ; 

The chiiich-book overthroirs it, if you reaif it well 
Cleanllits and llie lawyer are at cripss pmposes. The Utter 
ob?ei ves lliat the chiu'ch-bMok ^by which he ineaiisilie regis 
ter of birlh^ kepi there ovi rlhruws all demur ; ti which the 
furiiier replies, that il really does so, taking the iioly Scrip- 
Imes lor the cliur. h book. 

To obsi r\e upon the niter confusion of all time and place 
ot all I ii-toii.s iind manners, in this (iraiiia, would be super 
lluons : iliev uius' be obvious to the ino.'-t canless observei< 



Scene I.l 



THE OLD LAW, 



497 



1 Law. Stiil you run from the law into error; 
You Srt)' it takes the lives onnnocenis, 

I say no, and .-o says common reason ; 

What man lives lo i'ourscore, and woman to three, 

That can die innocent ! 

Clean. A fine law eva-ion ! 
Good sir, rehearse the whole statute to me. 

Sim. Fie ! that's too tedious ; you have already 
The full sum in the brief relation. 

Clean. Sir, 
'Mongst many words may be found contradictions ; 
And these men dare sue and wrangle with a statute, 
If they can pick a quarrel with some error. 

2 Law. Lis'!en, sir, I'll j^ather it as brief as I can 
fur you : 

Anno prima Eva7idri, Be it for the care and good of the 
etimmoHueallh (Jor dicers necessary reasons that we 
$haU urge), thus jieiemptorily enacted 

Clean. A fair pretence, if the reasons foul it not ! 

2 Law. Thut all men living in our dominions of 
Epire, in their decayed nature, to the age «/ Jour- 
score, or women <o the age of threesci^re, shall on the 
tame daii be instantUi put to death, by those means 
and instruments thai a lormer proclamation, had to this 
purpose, through our said territories dispersed. 

Clean. There was no woman in this senate, cer- 
tain. 

1 Law. That these men, being past their heariu'g 
Arms, £■> aid and dejend their cutmtry ; past their man- 
hood and ''kelihood, to propagate any Jurther issue to 
their postcrit'j ; and as ivell past their councils ( ichtise 
overgi'own ^ruvitii is now run into dotage) to assist iheir 
eou7itry ; to whofn., in common reason, nothing should be 
io wearisome as their own lives, as they may lie supposed 
tedious to their successive heirs, ivhose times are sjient in 
the good of their con ntrii : yet, wnnling the means to 
maintain it ; and are like to grow old before their in- 
heritance (horn to them ) come to their necessary use, he 
condemned lo die : for the women, for that they veier 
were a defence to their country ; never by counsel ad- 
mitted to assist in the gocernment of their country ; 
only necessary to the propagation of posterity, and now 
at the age of threescore, past that goi^d, and all their 
goodness: itis thougld fit {^a quarter abated J rom the 
more tcorlhy member) that they be put to death, as is 
before recited : provided that for ihe just and impartial 
eiecuiion of this our statute, the example shall Jirst 
begin in and about our court, which ourselj wll see 
earefullii performed ; and not, for a full month * Jot- 
lowing, extend any further into our dominions Dnleil 
the sixth of the second month, at our Palace Royal in 
Epire\. 

Clean. A fine edict, and very fairly gilded ! 
And is there no scruple in all these words. 
To demur the law upon occasionf 

Sim. Pox ! 'tis an unneccessary inquisition ; 
Prithee set him not about it. 



• and not, for a full month, &c.] 

The reader will see the necessity and the motive of this pro- 
vision in the act, towards the conclusion of the Play. 

H.td Acts of Parliiment, in Massinfjer's days, been 
aomewh it like wlial IhCy aie in ours, we iid!;ht not iiniea- 
lonably h.ive Mi|i|)osed that this was wickedly meant as a 
tidicule on theiii, lor a more prolix, tautological, connised 
piece of I'orinallty, human nit, or rather human dullness, 
could not easily |:ave produced. As it stands in the old 
copy, and in Coveier, It is absolutely incomprehensible. 
Mr. M. Mason restored it lo as much meaning as it was pro- 
bably intended lohive, by a few interpolations, and I h eve 
endeavoured lo attain the .same end, without deviating alto- 
gether so much from ihe original. 



'■2 Law. Troth, none, sir : 
It is so evident and plain a case, 
I'here is an succour lor tiie defendant. 

Clean. Possible ! can nothing help in a good 
case? 

1 Law. Faith, sir, I do think there may be a hole, 
VVhicii would protract ; delay, if not remedy. 

Clean. Why, there's some comlbrt in that; good 
sir, speak it. 

1 Law. Nay, you must pardon me for that, sir 

Sim. Prithee, do not ; 
It niuy ope a wound to many sons and heirs, 
That may die after it. 

Clean. Come, sir, I know 
How to make you speak : — will this do it ? 

( Gives him his purse 

1 Law. I will afford vou my opinion, sir. 

Clean, l^ray you, repeat the literal words ex- 
pressly, 
The tiine of death. 

Sim. 'lis an unnecessary question; prithee let 
It alone. 

'2 Law. Hear his opinion, 'twill be fruitless, sir : 
That man, at ihe age of font score, and woman at three 
score, shall the same day he pui to death. 

1 Law. Thus 1 help the man to twenty-one years 
more. 

Clean. That were a fair addition. 

1 Law. Mark it, sir ; we sav, man is not at age 
Till he be one and twenty ; before, 'tis infancy 
And adole.-cency ; now, by that addition, 
Fourscore he cannot be, till a hundred and one. 

Sim. Oh, poor evasion ! 
He is fourscore years old, sir. 

1 Law. That helps more, sir ; 
He begins to be old at fifty, so at fourscore 
He's but thirty years old ; so, believe it, sij. 
He may he twenty years in declination. 
And so long miiy a man linger and live by it. 

Sim. The worst hope of safety that e'er 1 lieard ! 
Give him his fee again, 'tis not worth two deiiiers. 

1 Law. There is no law for restitution of fees, 
sir. 

Clean. No, no, sir ; I meant it lost when it was 
given. 

Enter Creon and Antigona. 

Sim. No more, good sir. 
Here are ears unnecessary for your doctrine. 

1 Law. I have spoke out my fee, and 1 have done, 
sir. 

Sim. O my dear father ! 

Creon. Tush ! meet me not in exclaims ; 
I understand the worst, and hope no better. 
A fine law ! if this hold, white heads will be cheap. 
And many watchmen's places will be vacant*; 
P'orty of them I know my seniors. 

That did due deeds of darkness too their country 

ILis watch'd them a good turn for't. 

And ta'en them napping now : 

The fewer hospitals will serve too ; many 



• if this hold, white heads will be cheap. 

And many watchmen's places wilt he vacant ;] I'lie au- 
thor- could not forbear, even at this serious inoment, to in- 
dulge a snrle at the venerable guardians of the night, who, 
ill their lime, as well as in ours, seem to have been very 
" ancient :ind quiet" personages. The remainder of this 
speeci stuKis thus in the quarto: 

That did due dreds of darknessto their country. 
Has watch'd 'rm a i/ond turn J'lir't, and toiie 'em 
Napjiing now, Ihe J'eiver hospitals will serve to. 
Many nay be used for stews, &c. 



498 



THE OLD LAW. 



("Act I. 



May be used for stews and brotliels ; and those 

people 
Will never trouble them to fourscore. 

Aht. Can you play and sport wiih sorrow, sir? 
Crenn. Sorrow! tor what, Aiiiigona? for iny life 
My sorrow is 1 liave kept it so long- well 
Willi bringing it up unto so ill an end. 
I niiglit have gently lost it in my cradle, 
Before my nerves and liganieiits grew strong 
To bind it faster to me. 

Sim. For mine own sake 
I sliould have been sorry for that. 

Cieoit. In my youth 
I was a soldier, no coward in my age ; 
I De\erturn'd my back upon my (be; 
I have telt nature's winters, sicknesses, 
Yet ever kejit a lively sap in me 
To greet the cheerful spring of health again. 
Dangers, on horse, on foot | by land], by « ater, 
I have scapeil to this day ; and vet ihis'day, 
Without all helj) of casual accidents. 
Is only deadly to me, 'cause it numbers 
Fou' score years to me. Where is the fault now ? 
I cannot blame time, nature, nor my S'ars, 
Noriiught but tyranny. Even kin^s iliemselves 
Have sometimes tasted an even fate with me. 
He thai has been a soldier all his days, 
And stood in personal oj)position 
'Gainst ilarts and arrows, the extremes of heat 
And pinching cold, has* treacherously at home, 
111 s seciiie quiet, by a villain s h.nid 

been basely lost, in his stars' ignorance : 

And so must 1 die by a tyrant's sword. 

1 I.iiw. Oil, say not so, sir, it is by the law. 

Lr-dit. And what's that, but the sword of tyrannv, 
Wl en it is brandish'd against innocent lives? 
1 am ii(f«' ujion my deathbed, and 'tis fit 
1 should unbosom my free conscience, 
And .-^lunv the f.iith 1 die in : — 1 do believe 
1 1- I \ irtiiiiy that takes my life. 

iiiiii. \\ on Id it were gone 
By one means or other 1 what a long day 
Will thii be ere night? 

Clean. Simonides. 

kim. Here, sir, — weepingt. 

Cienn. Wherefore dosi thou weep? [end. 

Clemi. 'Cause you make no more haste to your 

&im. How can you <|uesiiou nature so unjustly ? 
r Innl a grandfather, and then had not you 
True filial tears for him ? 

C.'e 111. Hypocrite ! 
A disease of drought dry up all pity from him 
Tliai can dissemble pity wiili wet e_\ es ! 



• And pinching cold, \\;\s treacherous/ y at home. 
In s ii'cure qui' t, by a villain « /luiid 

Been basely lost, t« lii» iit<irs iijnorance: 

And so must J die by a tyrant s sword. \ The old copy 
jives tlie conclusion of tliis spcecli tlius: — 

And pincliiny cold Ims tieachrrously at home 
Jn his secured quiet by a vtllain k hand 
Am hasi-ty Ivstiiimy ^tar s iynnrauce 
And so must I die by a lyruni's sword. 
For A«^, Coxeler reads dies, ami lor Am, ni llie third line, 
I'm; but tliis canimt lie riulit; fur Cicnu had just belure 
acquitted his stars of any coucitii in his (k-stiiiy. Mr. M. 
Masoii blin'lly follows Coxcler. I ■in n t vi ly Kinfidunt of 
the s:cniiincness ol my reading?; bin they produce soinetlnn^ 
like a ineauing: and in a I'lay soincuruc 1> , so ijjnorantly, 
pri'iud as tins, even that is soiiieiimes to bo reaarded a» an 
£C() li^ilion. 

t Sun. Here, sir, — weeping.] This is given by llie ino- 
ie>n idilor; as a ni.irgiiial note; but the "Id copy makes it, 
and lightly, a part of the text. 



Crenn. lie good unto your mother, Simonides. 
Slie must he now your care. 

Ant. To what end, sir? 
The bell of this sharj) edict tolls for me, 
As it rings out for you. — I'll be as reudy, 
With one hour's stay, to uo ahjng wiih you. 

Cie.oit. Thou must not, woman, there are years 
behind. 
Before thou canst set forward in this voyage ; 
And iiatute, sure, will no'w i)e kind to all : 
Nile lias a tjuarrel iii't, a cruel law 
Seeks to prevent* her, she will therefore fight in't. 
And draw out life even to her longest thread : 
Thou art scarce fifty -five. * 

Ant. 8o many morrows! 
J'hose five remaining years I'll turn to days, 
i () hours, or minutes, for yourcoin|iany. 
I is fit that you and I, being man and wife, 
Should walk together arm in arm. 

Sim. I hope 
They'll go together; I would they would, i'faith ; 
Then would her thirds be saved too. — I'he day goes 
away, sir. 
Creon. Why wouldst thou have me gone, Simo- 
nides ? 
Sim. O my heart ! would you have me gone be- 
foie you, sir. 
You give me such a deadly wound ? 
Clean. Kine rascal ! 

Sim. Blemish my duty so with such a question ! 
Sir, 1 would h^i>te nie to the duke for mercy ; 
He that's above the law may miiigaie 
The rigour of the law. How a gotAl meaning 
iMay be corrupted by a misconstruction ! 

Creo/i. Thou corrui)t'st mine ; 1 did' not think 

thou raean'st so. 
Clean, ^'ou were in the more errorl 
iS'im. The words wounded me. 
Clean. 'I'was jiily thou died'st not on't. 
Sim. I liave been ransacking the helps of law. 
Conferring with these learned advocates; 
If any scruple, cause, or wrested sense 
Could have been found out to preserve your life. 
It had been bought, though with your full estate. 
Your life's so precious to raej — but there's none. 
1 Lull'. Sir, we have canvass'd her irom top to 
toe, 
Tuni'd her upside down, thrown her upon her side, 
Nay,open'd ami dissected all her entrails. 
Yet can find none : there's nothing to be hoped 
But the duke's inetcy. 

Sim. 1 know the hope of that ; 
He did not make the law for that purpose. 

Creon. Then to thi» liojjeless mercy last I go ; 
I have so many precedents before me, 
I must call it hopeless: Antigona, 
See me deliver'd up unto my deathsman. 
And then we'll part ; — five years hence I'll look for 
thee. 
Sim. 1 hope she will not stay so long behind yon. 
Cieon. Do not bate him an hour by grief and sor- 
row, 
Since there's a day prefix'd, hasten it not. 
Suppose me sick, Antigona, dying now. 



• She has a quarrel in't, a cruel law 

See sto (ir<veiit her, i.e. to acticipate the period she 
/lad allotted to life. In Uiis cl issic sense, the word is con- 
stantly nscd by our old writers, and, indeed, several iustauce* 
ol 11 have been noticed in llie preceding pai;es. 



•[Scene I. 



THE OLD LAW. 



499 



Any disease thou wilt may be my end, 
")[ when death's slow to come, say tyrants send. 

[Kieinit Creon and Aiitigona. 
Sim. Cleanthes, if you want money, to-moirow, 
use me ; 
I'll trust you while* your father's dead. 

^Exit, with the Lawyers 
Clean. Why, here's a villain. 
Able to corrupt a thousand by example! 
Does the kind rootf bleed out his livelihood 
In parent distribution to liis branches, 
Adorning them with all his glorious fruits, 
Proud that his pride is seen when he's unseen; 
And must not gratitude descend again 
To comfort his old limlis in fruitless winter? 
Improvident, or at least partial nature ! 
(Weak woman in this kind), who in thy last teeming 
Forgettest still the former, ever making 
The burthen of thy last throes the dearest darling ! 

yet in noble man reform [reform] it. 
And make us better than those vegvtives. 
Whose souls die with tliem. Nature, as thou art old 
If love and justice be not dead in thee. 

Make some the pattern of thy piety. 
Lest all do turn unnaturally against thee, 
And thou be blamed for our oblivions 

Enter Leonides and Hippolita. 

And brutish reluctations! Ay, here's the ground 
Wliereou my filial faculties must build 
An edifice of honour or of shame 
To all mankind. 

Hip. Vou must avoid it, sir, 
If there be any love within yourself: 
This is far pore than fate of a lost game 
That another venture may restore again ; 
It is your life, which you should not subject 
To any cruelty, if you can preserve it. 
, Clean. O dearest woman, thou hast doubled now 
A thousand times thy nuptial dowry to me ! 
Why, she whose loVe is but derived from me, 
Is got before me in my debted duty. 

Hi/). Are you tirinking such a resolution, sir? 

Clean. Sweetest Hippolita, what love taught thee 
To be so forward in so good a cause? 

Hip. iMine own pity, sir, did first instruct me. 
And then your love and power did both command 
me. 

Clean. They were all blessed angels to direct tl>ee; 
And take their counsel, How do you fare, sir? 

Leon. Cleanthes, never better ; I have conceived 
Such a new joy within this old bosom. 
As 1 (li.l never think would there have enter'd. 

Clean. Joy call you it? alas ! 'tis sorrow, sir. 
The worst of sorrows, sorrou- unto death. 

Leon. Death; wlrat is that, Cleanthes ? I thought 
riot on't, 

1 was in contemplation of this woman : 
'Tis all thy comfort, sonj ; tbou hast in her 
A treasure unvaluable, keep her safe. 
When I die, s-ure 'twill be a fientle death, 
For 1 will die with wonder of her virtues; 
Nothing else shall dissolve me. 



• I'll trust you while your fn t tier's dead. . i.e. «7i/i7 jour 
father iiede.^d: see Roman Actor, Act V. sc I. 

i Dues the. kind root, !!i.c.] 'I lii- li.aiilifnl sipee^h is most 
nninr iiiallj piintid in all 'lie iviitions; ii is. I hopi', soiiie- 
whdi iiiMir.uecl liy a ditii'icnt airatimiiunt, anil aii-pctitiun 
of till- wa.il ill br.ic' ets. 

X '' if (ill ihy comfort, son ;] For rA// M r. M. Mason reads 
my : (lie altcralion is suecii^iis, bin 1 ttL- no necessity tor it. 



Clean. 'Twere much better, sir, 
Coiilii you prevent their malice. 

Lcivi. I'll prevent them. 
And die the way I told tliep, in tlie wonder 
Of this good woman. I tell thee there's few men 
Have such a child : ( must thank thee for her. 
1 hat the strong tie of wedlock should do more 
Than nature in her nearest ligaments 
Of blond and propagation ! I should never 
Have beoot such a (laii!;hrer of mv own : 
A daughter-in-law ! la«- were above nature, 
Were there more such children. 

Clean. This admiration 
Helps nothinu to your safety ; think of that, sir. 

Leon. Mad you heard her, Cleanthes, but labour 
In the se.irth of means to save my forfeit life. 
And knew the wise anil the sound ])reservations 
That slie found out, you would redouble all 
I\ly wonder in your love to her. ■ 

Clean, The thought. 
The very tlioughf, sir, claims all that from me. 
And she is now jjossest oft : but, good sir. 
If you have aught received from her advice. 
Let's follow it; or else let's better think. 
And take the surest course. 

Leon. I'll tell thee one ; 
She counsels me to fly my severe country ; 
To turn all into treasure, and there build up 
My decaying fortunes in a safer soil, 
Where Epire's law cannot claim me. 

Clean. And, sir, 
I apprehend it as a safest course, 
And may be easily accomplished ; 
Let us be all most expeditious. 
Every country where we breathe will be our own. 
Or better soil ; heaven is the roof of all. 
And now, as Kpire's situate by t!iis law, 
There is 'twixt us and heaven a dirk eclipse. 

Hip. Oh, then avoid it, sir; these sad events 
Follow those black predictions. 

Leon. I ])rithee peace ; 
I do allow thy love, Hip])olita, 
But must not follow it as counsel, child ; 
I must not shame my country for the law. 
This country here hath bred me, brought me up*, 
And shall I now refuse a grave in her? 
I am in my second infancy, and children 
Ne'er sleep so sweetly in their nurse's cradle 
As in their natural mother's. 

Hip. Ay, but, sir. 
She is unnatural ; then the stepmother's 
To he preferred before her. 

Leon. Tush ! she shall 
Allow it me in des])ite of her entrails. 
Why, do you think how fiir from judgment 'tis 
That I should travel forth to seek a grave 
That is already digg d for me at home. 
Nay, perhaps tiad it in my way to seek it?— 
How have 1 then sought a repentant sorrow ? 
For your dear loves how have I banish'd you 
From your country ever ? With my base attempt 
How have 1 beggar'd you in wastmg that 
Which only for your sakes 1 bred together? 
Buried my name in Epire t which 1 built 

• Tliis country here hath bred me, hrovyht me up, &c.] 
There is soiiieihini; oxqni-itely temler in this ^h(llt S()eech. 

f Biirii'il my name in Epire, Kc.i This is ub-iiue. Per 
haps Le.iiiides iiceitn^ that he had so condiiciid liiiiisell in 
his native country (i. e. ^o raised his lepiitalion tlnre), that 
his iiieinory wuiild always live iu \he recollection ot the 



500 



THE OLD LAW. 



11 



Upon tliis fraiTiP, to live for ever in? 

What a base coward sluill I be to fly from 

That eiieinv wlii. Ii every minute ninets me, 

And thousand odds lie liad nut loig; vanquish'd me 

Before this hour of battle ! Fly niv death! 

I will not lie so false unto your states, 

Nor fainfin^;" to the man tliat's yet in me ; 

I'll meet him bravely; I cannot (this knowing) 

fear 
That, when I am fj^one hence, I sliall be there. 
Come, 1 have days of preparation left. 

Clean. Good sir, hear me : 
I have a genius that has prompted me. 

And I have almost formed it into words; 

'Tis done, pray you observe them : I can conceal 

you ; 
And yet not leave your country. 

Leon. Tush ! it cannot be 
Without a certain peril on us all. 

Cleau. Danger must be hazarded, rather than 
accept * 

A sure destruction. You have a lodge, sir. 
So far remote from way of jjassengers. 
That seldom uiiv mortal eye does greet with't; 
And yet so sweetlv situate with thickets, 
Built witli such cunning hibyriniiis within. 
As if the j)ruvident heavens, foreseeing cruelty, 
Had hid you frame it to this purjiose only. 

Leon. Fie, He ! 'tis dangerous, — and treason too, 
To abuse the law. 

Hip. 'Tis iioly care, sir. 
Of your dear life*, which is your own to keep, 
But not your own to lose, either in will 
Or negligence. 

Clean Call you it treason, sir? 
1 had been then a traitor unto you, 
Had I forgot this ; beseech you, accept of it; 
It is secure, and a duty to yourself. 

Leon. What a coward will you make me ! 

Clean. You mistake, 
'Tis noble couriige : now you figlit with death. 
And yield not to hiiu till you stoop under him, 

Leon. 1 his must needs open to discovery. 
And then what torture follows? 

Clean. By what means, sir? 
Why, there is but one body in all this counsel, 



Which cannot betray itself: we two are one. 

One soul, one bod}-, one heart, that think one 

thought ; 
And yet we two are not comi'lelelj' one. 

But as I have derived myself from vou. 

Who shall betray us where there is no second ? 
Hip. You must not jnistrust my faith, though my 
sex plead 
Weakness and frailtv for me. 

Leon. Oh, I diire not. me? 

But where's the means that must make answer for 
I cannot be lost without a full account, 
And what must pay that reckoning? 

Clean. Oh, sir, we will 
Keep solemn obits for your funeral ; 
We'll seem to weep, and seem to joy withal. 
That death so gentlv has prevented you • 
The law's sharp rii^our; and this no mortal ear 

shall 
Participate the knowledge of. 

Leon. Ha, ha, ha ! 
This will be a sjiortive fine demur, 
If the error bs not found. 

Clean. Piaj' doubt of none. 
Your company and best provision 
IMust be no further furnish'd than by us ; 
And in the interim vour solitude may 
Converse with lieaven, and fairly prepare 
[For that] which was too violent and raging 
Thrown headlong on you*. 

Leon. Still there are some doubts 
Of the discovery ; yet I do allow it. 

Hip. Will you not mention now the cost and 
charge 
Which will be in your keeping ! 
Leon. That will be somewhat. 
Which you might save too. 

Clean. With his will against him, 
What foe is more to man than man himself; 
Are you resolved, sir? 

Leon. I am, Cleanthes ; 
If by this means I do get a reprieve. 
And cozen death awhile, when he shall come 
Armed in his own power to give the blow, 
I'll smile upon him then, and laughing go. 

[£ie««t 



ACT II. 



SCENE I.— Before the Palace. 
Enter Evander, Courtiers, and Cuatilus. 

Evan. Executioner ! 
Crat. My lord. 

Evan. How did old Diodes take his death? 
Crat. As weeping brides receive their joys at 
night. 
With trembling, yet with patience. 



people, unless lie now quitted tliem for a residence else" 
where. The concl isi(.ii <.t this speech 1 do not iniderstaiid : 
perhaps soiiulliing is lost. 

• Hip. 'J is hiiiy care, sir, 

Of your dear life, &c.] This thought, at once pious and 
philosophical, is liei|ueutty dwelt upon by Massinger 



Evan. Why, 'twas well. 

1 Court. Way, I knew my father would do well 
my lord, 
Whene'er he came to die ; I'd that opinion of him 
Which made me the more willing to part from 

him : 
He was not fit to live in the world, indeed. 
Any time these ten years, my lord. 
But I would not say so much. 



• Converse with heaven, and fairly prepare 
{For that] rrliichwas too violent and rai/iny 
Thrown headtomj on you.] Here again ^ome woids are 
lost by the neglij;eiite of thepiiiiter, whiL-li, in this Play 
exceeds all credibility. It is iinposMble lo reco<-tr them : 
but to make soiiRamig like seii^e oi iht- passage, I have 
ventured to add what is enclosed betwem brackets. 



Scene I.] 



THE OLD LAW. 



501 



Evan. No ! you did not well in't. 
For he tliat's' all spent, is ripe for death at all 

hours, 
And (toes but trifle time out. 

1 Cin<rt. 'IVoth, my lord, 

would IM known your mind nine years a£:o. 
Evan. Our law is fourscore years, because we 
judn;e 
Dotage L-omplete then, as unfruitfulness 
In women at threescore ; marry, if the son 
Can within C'>n)p;iss bring good snlid proofs 
Of his own faiiier's weakness and unfitness 
To live, or sway the living, though he want five 
Or ten years of his number, that's not it ; 
His defect makes him fourscore, and 'tis fit 
He dies u lien he deserves ; for every act 
Is in ertV(t tliFn when the cause is rijie. 

2 (iwrt. An admirable prince ! liuw rarely he 
talks*! 

Oh that we'd known tliis, lads ! What a time did 

we endure 
In two-penny commons, and in boots twice vamp'd ! 

1 Coiiit. ]No\v we have two pair a week, and yet 
not thankful ; 

'Twill he a fine world for them, sirs, that come 
after u>. 

2 Court. Ay, an they knew it. 

1 Coiiit. Peace, let them never know it. 

3 Court- A pox, there be young heirs will soon 
sinell't our. 

2 Court. 'Twill come to them by instinct, man : 
mav your grace 

Never be old, you stand so well for youth ! 

Evan. Wiiy now, methinks, our court looks like a 
spring. 
Sweet, fiesi), and fashionable, now the old weeds 
are gone. 
1 Court. It is as a court should be : 
GIuss and good clothes, my lord, no matter for 

merit ; 
And herein your law proves a provident act. 
When men pass not the palsy of their tongues, 
Nor colour in their cheeks. 

Evan. But women 
By that law should live long, for they're ne'er past 
it. 
1 Court. It will have heals though, when tbey 
see the painting 
Go an inch deep i'lhe wrinkle, and take up 
A box more than their gossips : but for men, my 

lord. 
That should be the sole bravery of a palace. 
To walk with hollow eyes and long white beards, 
As if a prince dwelt in a land of goats ; 
With clothes as if they sat on their backs on pur- 
pose 
To arraign a fashion, and condemn't to exile ; 
Their pockets in their sleeves, as if thev laid 
'J'heir ear to aviirice, and heard the devil whisper ! 
Now our.-i lie downward here close to the flank, 
Right spending pockets, as a son's should be 
That lives I'tlie fashion; where our diseased fa- 
thers, 
Worried with the sciatica and aches, 



• 2 Court. An admirable prince ! &c.] This and several 
of the siiline<i'i(nt ppeeclies have bn n hitherto pj inled as 
prose: thty aie not, indeed, very inellitinuiis, yet they rtui 
readily tuongh into stich kind of metre as this uiay is, for 
the most p.iri, writteu in. qc 



Brought up your paned hose first ', which ladies 

hiugh'd at, 
Ciiving no reverence to the place lies ruin'd : 
They love a (Kiublet that's three hours a buttoning, 
Arjd sits so i-Jo^e makes a man groan ,ig;iin. 
And liis soul mutttr half a day; vei i!ie-e are those 
Tluit carry swy and worth : pritk'd up in clothes, 
\V hy shoulil we fear our rising ? 

hiiiii. Vou hut wrong 
Our kiiidiiess, and your own deserts, to doubt on't. 
Has IK t our law made vou rich before \ our time? 
Our countenance then Ciiii make vou lionouri.hle. 

1 Court. W e'U spare for no cost, sir, lo appear 
wo^tliv. 

Eain. \\ hy, you're i'the noble way then, for the 

lllDNt 

Are hut appearers ; worth itself is lost. 
And luiivelv stands for'tf. 

Killer CunoN, ANTicoNA,oHd Simonides. 

1 Court. Look, look, who comes here ? 
1 smell death and another courtier, 
Sinioiiides. 

V Court. Sim ! 

.St/« Pish ! I'm not for you vet, 
^'our company's too costly ; afier the old man's 
Dis|)atcli'(l I shall have time to talk wiiji \uu ; 
I sliidi <•( me into the fa?hion, you si all see, too. 
After a day or two ; in the mean time, 
I am not tor your company. 

Lraii. Old Cieon, you have been expected lono': 
fiuie you re above fourscore. 

Siiri. Upon mv life. 
Not four and twenty hours, mv lord ; I search'd 
The church-hook yesterday. i3oes your grace think 
I'd let my father wrong the law, my lord '. 
'Tvvere jtity o'niy life then ! no, your act 
Shall not receive a minute's wrong hy h.m 
U hile I live, sir ; and he's so just hinibelf too, 
I know he would not ofter't : — here he siands. 

Crfnii. 'Lis just 1 die, indeed, for 1 confess 
I a;n troublesome to life now, and the state 
Can iiope for nothing worthy from me now. 
Either in force or counsel ; I've o'late 
Em|)loy'd myself quite from the world, ami he 
I hilt once begins to serve his Maker faiilifully. 
Can never serve a worldly prince well after ; 
'lis clean another way. 



where our dUcaKi'd J other*, 

Worried icith the sciatica and aches, 

Brought uiJ your \).ii\v\ liof^e Jirxt, «ic ] For where Mr. 
M Masoo read- «)/(.»«/«, as usual ! In tlie next line the 
•■Id copy h.is — \5'ordd ivifh Ihn sciatica, &c, U'r wldcli, he 
sa>s, " we should read wood," i. e. mad. ras^inu ; bin a.-* tliat 
leaves the inetieiuHie^leci, I have adopted anotl.er word, 
winch bifis no less r,iii|y lo be tlic genuine one. 

Paned hose (see page 213; are ribbed breeches, the large 
and louse slons of our ancestors. The lashion is here ricTi- 
cnled, as, about the end of EliZribeili's rci..;n, when this 
I'liy was apparently written, it wasonthe decline. In 'J he 
Great Duke of /'Vor^-nre, produced many year.s snti^erjiient 
I • The did /(iiv, paned hose are mentioned as a f.i-liiuiiable 
article <jf dre.s, and this is agreeable lo hi^tory, for they 
were af.iin introduced at the Jiccessioii of James II., and 
continued ihrongh the whole of his reign the characteristic 
marks or a tine L.entleinaB and a courtier. 

t And bravery stands for' t.] i. e. o^tent:^ticul5 finery o 
apparel: in which sense it is frequently u.-ed in the Scrip- 
tures. " In that day the lord will take ..way the t>ravery 
of ihelrtinklini; oriidinenls."— /«a/a/i, c. iii. v. 18, cVc. &c. 
This short .-peech of the duke att'oids one of those .scarcely 
perceptible openings through which Massiuu'er atttnlly con- 
trivis to uive the r. ..der a glimpse of such ch.oactcis as are 
heiianerto be developed. In every instance he f. lions 
ii.ilnre, which abhors all sudden conversion, the couimoa 
resource of moderu dramatists. 



502 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Act n 



Ant. Oil, Mive not confidence 
To all he speaks, my lord, in liis own injury. 
His ]ire])aration onlv for the next world 
Makes him talk wildly to his wrong of this; 
He is :.ot lost in judgment. 

Sim. She spods all again. 

Ant. Deserving; any way for state employment. 

Sim. ftlother 

Ant. Mis very liousebold laws prescribed at home 
bv him 
Are able to conform seven Christian kingdoms, 
Thev are so wise and virtuous. 

Sim. IMoth^r, 1 say 

Ant. I know your laws extend not to desert, sir, 
But to unnecessary years, and, mv lord. 
His are not such ; though they show white they are 

worthy, 
Judicious, able, and religious. 

Sim. Mother, 
I'll help you to a courtier of nineteen. 

Ant, Away, unnatural! 

Sim. Then I am no fool, sure, 
For to be natural at such a time 
Were a fool's part, indeed. 

Ant. Your grace's pity. 
And 'tis but fit and just. 

Creon. I he law, my lord. 
And that's the justest way. 

Sim. Well said, father, i'faith! 
Thou wert ever juster than my mother still. 

Evan. Come hither, sir. 

Sim. ]\Iy lord. 

Fa'cuu What are those orders? 

Ant. Worth observation, sir, 
So please you hear theui read. 

Sim, 'I'he woman speaks she knows not what, my 
lord : 
He make a law, poor man I he bought a table, 

indeed, 
Only to learn to die by't, there's the business now ; 
Wherein there are some precepts for a son too. 
How he should learn to live, but I ne'er look'd on't : 
For, when he's dead, 1 shall live well enough, 
And keep a better tablk* than that, I trow. 

Ivan, And is thut all, sir? 

Sim. All, I vow, my lord. 
Save a tew running admonitions 

Upon eheese-trencberst, as 

Take heed of whoring, >,liun it, 

'TiS tike a cheeae too stroig of the runnet. 



• And keep a better tablk than that, I trnw.] This 
wretclii'd fill.iw is punning upon the wttrd table, wliicli, as 
Hpplied 10 liis father, meant a book, or ratlier, perhaps, a 
ldrs;e sliict of paper, where precepts for the due regulation 
of life were set (hiwn in dislitiet lines, and, as apiJied lo 
himself' that he would keep a belter house, i. c. live more 
iumpt'ously than his father. T/ien, which the modern edi- 
tors have alier table, and which destroys (he metre, is not in 
the old copy. 

f Upon cheese trenchers.] Before the general introduction 
of books, our ancestors were caieful to dole out instruction 
in many ways: haniiings, piciiiies, /rencAers, knives, wear- 
ing apparel, tvery iliing,in a word, that was capable of coii- 
taiiilog a short sentence, was turned to account. 

•' 'llioe apophoreta," says Pultenham, in his Art of 
Enyli.sh Pnesie, " we call posies, and do paint them now a 
tlaycs upon the back side of one fruit etrenchers," *.c. p. 
47. And Saltonstall observes of one of his characters, that 
*' for taike hte commonly uses some proverbial verses, ga- 
thered |uih;ips from cheeaetrenehers." } ictures, by VV. S. 
— And thus George, in '/'he Honest II hare .—" Aye, but inis- 
Irefs, as one of our cheese-trenchers says very learnedly, 

" ' As out of wormwood bees suck honey,'" Ke. 
Hence they are termed by Caitwri^ht, trencher analect*. 



And such calves 'maw of wit and admonition. 
Good to catch mice with, but not sons and heirs; 
They are not so easily caught. 

El an. Agent for death ! 

C'-at. Your will, my lord ? 

Evun. Take hence that pile of years. 
Forfeit* before with unprofitable age. 
And, with ihe rest, from the high promontory 
Cast him into the sea. 

Creon. 'lis noble justice ! 

Ant. 'Tis cursed tyranny ! 

Sim. Peace ! take heed, mother ; 
You've but short time to be cast down yourself; 
And let a young courtier do't, an you be wise, 
In the mean time. 

Ant. 1 leiice, slave ! 

Sim. Well, seven and fifty, 
Y"ou have hut three years to scold, then comes you 
f avment. 

1 Court. Simonides. 

Sim, Pish, Pm not brave enough to hold you talk 

o- ^''''' 

Give a man time, T have a suit a making. 

2 Court, We love thy form first; brjve clothes 
will come, man. [them, 

Sim. I'll make them come else, with a mischief to 
As other gallants do, that have less left them. 

l^Recorders uilhin. 

Evan. Hark! whence those sounds? what's that 1 

1 Court. Some funeral, 
It seems, my lord ; and young Cleanthes follows. 

Enter a Funeral Procession : the hearse followed by 
Cleanthes a;i(i Hippolita. 

Evan. Cleanthes ! 

'2 Ciiurt. 'lis, my lord, and in the place 
Of a chief mourner too, but strangely habited. 

Evan. Yet suitable to his behaviour ; mark it; 
He comes all the way smiling, do you observe it? 
I never saw a corse so joyfully followed : 
Light colours and light cheeks 1- who should this 

be? 
'Tis a thing worth resolving. 

Sim. One, belike. 
That doili participate this our present joy. 

Evan. Cleanthes. 

Clean. Oh, rny lord ! 

Evan. He laugh'd outright now; 
Was ever such a contrariety seen 
In natural courses yet, nay profess'd openly? 

1 Court. 1 have known a widow laugh closely, my 
lord. 

Under her handkerchief, when t'other part 
Of her old face has wept like rain in sunshine } 
But all the face to laugh apparently 
Was never seen yet. 

67m. Yes, mine did once. 

Clean. ''Jis, of a heavy time, the joyfuU'st day 
J hat ever son was born to. 

Evan. H ow can that be ? 

Clean. 1 joy to make it ])lain, — my father's dead. 

Evan Dead I 

2 Court. Old Leonides ! 
Clean. In his last month dead : 

He beoiiiled cruel law the sweetliest 



* Forfeit before with unprofitable aye,] Such I l:ike to 
be Ihe geiiiiiiu- "nailiiig: ilu- old copy h.is surfeit, which was 
adopted h\ CoMter, and improved b> lUr. M. Mason, by the 
illbCltioM of it .' 

Before it surfeit with wiprofitable age. 



SCBVE I.] 



1HE OLD LAW, 



501 



Tliat ever nge was blest to. 

It oiieves int; thfit a tfiir should fill iipon't, 
Being a iliiiisf so joyful, Inn lii^ rrK^inory 
Will work- It out, I see ; when liis poor lieiirt broke 
I <li(( not (111 so niucli : tnil ItJiip'd for joy 
So nic.uiitinglv, 1 to'-Kli'ii the stars, methought ; 
I uoiilcl i;(ii hear of bl cks, 1 was so lij^lit, 
f5iii chose a colour, orient like my mind : 
I'or lihicks are often !.iicl) dissenihlinj)- mourners, 
'.'here i.-s no credit ijiveii to't; it has lost 
Ail lepiilatjon hy false sons and widows. 
Niiw I would have men know what 1 resemble, 
A until, indeed ; 'tis joy clad like a joy, 
\\ inch is more honest tb^in a cunning' grief 
1 hat's only laced with .sables for a hhow, 
Hut gawdy-hearted : When 1 saw dealli come 
So re idy lo deceive you, sir, — forgive me, 
I could not choose but be entirely meiry, — 
And yet to* see now ! — of a .sudden 
N amino- but (!eatl), 1 show myself a mortal, 
'J'hat's never constant to one passimi long. 
I wonder whence that tear came, when 1 smiled 
In the protluctiow on't ; s rrow's a thief, 
'i hat can, when joy looks on, steal fonh a grief. 
Bui, gracious leave, my lord ; when I've perform'd 
My last poor duty to mv father's bones, 
I fthall reiiirn your servant. 
Ki;iin. Well, perform it, 
The law is satisfied ; they c n but die : 
And by his death, Cleaiuhes, you gain well, 
A rich and fair revenue. 

[Floiiiiih. Eieiint Duke, Courtiers, Sjc. 
Sim. I would 1 had eVn 
Another faih-'r, condition he did the likef. 

Clean. I liave past it bruvtly now ; how blest 
was I 
To have the duke in sight} ! now 'tis confirm'd, 
Past fear or doubts coiitiriu'd ; on, on, I say, 
liini that broUL;lit me to man, I bring to clay. 

[Exit Funeral Proceisuin.follimed hy 
Cteaiithes, aiiti Hippoliia. 
Sim. I am rapt now in a contemphition. 
Even at the very sight of yonder hearse : 
I do but think what a fine thing 'lis now 
To live and f illovv some seven uncles thus, 
As many cousin-germ.ici.s, and such people 
That will leave legacies; pox! I'd see them 

hang'il else, 
Ere I'd follow one of them, an they could find the 

way. 
Kow I've enough to begin to§ be horrible covetous, 

Eater Butler, Tailor, Bailiff, Cook, Co-achraan, aud 
Fool ma 11. 

But. W'e come to know your worship's pleasure, 
sir, 

• And yet lo see jiow.] So lliu old Cdpy : Cox-ltr aial 
Mr. i\l. Mason rta<l, 1 know not why, — And yd loo, see 

ROW. 

+ condition hi' did the like.] i. e. on 

condilion: a mode oi' spoeth adoi/ted liy all our ol.l poets. 

J how lilist WII.S I , 

'J'o have the dwke in .*ii;lil !) (Jo.\,i, r printed (alter the 
oIrtei)|)\J, To have thf <\iin>\«\d: tin- v.u i.uion in llie le\t 
is Imuii h eonj'-cuire ol' Mr. i\f. Ma.-oii 1 Mippo^e tlieni.i- 
niisiTipt liad only the iniiial leller ol duke, and llie piiiiier 
nit limiting what to make of d in .'•i;.;hl. emie. ted ii into 
f/iin aiaht. These abbrevialivins aie ihe .source of iiiiaime 
rable eirors. 

J \i>w I've eiwuyh \.obi'gmtobe\\'ir\\\)\veirvelniis.] The 
iiiodciii idiiions iiavi', A'yw 7 ve titoii^/i I liiy n to lie hor- 
ribly covetous. I think there i.i luoie humour in the old 
reading. 



Having long served your father, how your goofi 

will 
Stands lowards our entertainment. 

Sim. \ ot a jot, i'f'aitli : 
I\ly (aih^r wore cheap •;armenis, he might do't ; 
1 shall have all my clothes come home to morniw, 
'] hey will eat up all you, an there were more of 

you, sirs. 
To keep you six at livery, and still munching! 
Tiiil. Why, Tm a tailor ; you have most need of 

me, sir. 
Sim. I hou mad'st my father's clothes, that I 
confess; 
But what son and heir will have his father's tailor, 
Unless he have a mind to be well laugli'd at? 
'I'hou'st been so used to wide long-side things, that 

when 
I come to truss, I shall have the waist of my doublet 
Lie on my buttocks, a sweet sight ! 
Pnil. I a butler. 

Sim. There's least need of thee, fellow ; I shall 
ne'er drink at home, I shall be so drunk -.ibroad. 

But. But a cup of small beer will do well next 
morn ng, sir. 

■Sim. I grant you ; but what need I keep so big a 
knave for a cup of small beer ? 

Cook. Bu!ler, yuu have your answer; marry, sir, 
a cook 
I know your mastership cannot be without. 

Sim. The more ass art tliou to think so ; for what 
should I do Willi a mountebank, no drink in my 
house ! — the banishing the butler might have 
been a warning to thee, unless thou means't to 
choak me. 

Cook. In the mean time you .have cboak'd me, 

nieihinks. 
Bail, i hese are superfluous vanities, indeed. 
And so accounted of in these days, sir ; 

Bui thvn, your bailiff to receive your rents 

Sim. I prithee hold thy tongue, fellow, I shall 
take a course to sp^nd them faster than Uiou 
canst reckon them ; 'tis not the rents must serve 
my turn, unless I mean to be laughed at; if a man 
should be seen out of slash-me, let him ne'er look 
to be a right gallant. But, sirrah, with whom is 
your business ? 

Couch. Your good mastership. 
Sim. Vou have stood silent all this while like 
men 
That know your strenglha in these days, none of 

you 
Can want employment; you can win me wagers*. 
Footman, in running races. 
Foot. I dare boast it, sir. 

Sim. And when my bets are all come in, and 
storn, 
Then, coachman, you can hurry me to my whore. 
Coach. Til firk them iii'o loani else. 
i>i/n. .Speaks brave mailer ; 
And I'll iirk some too, or't shall cost hot wa'er. 

I Eteunt Simonides, Coachman, ami Foiman. 
Cook. W hy, here's an age to make a cook a 
ruffian. 
And scald the devil indeed ! do strange mad things. 
Make mutton pasties of dog's flesh, 
Bake snakes fur lamprey ]iies, and cats for conies. 
But. Cume, will you be ruled by a buller's advice 

* 1,011 can jriii me wagers.,] So llie 

old copy : the modern ediiious read.i/OM canwm me wagcsl 



»04 



THE OLD LAW. 



[A'-T II. 



once? for we must make up our fortunes some- 
where now as the vaS' stands : let's e'en, therefore, 
go seek out widows of nitie and fiftv, -.m we can ; 
that's witliin a year ofilieir deaths, and sd weslmll he 
sure to be quickly rid of iheui ; fur a year's enough 
of conscience to be troubled with a wife, for any 
man liviiiij. 

C.'ofc. Oracle butler! oracle butler! he puts 
down all the doctors o' the name*. [Exeunt. 



SCENE 11.—^ Boom in Creon's House. 
Enter Eugenia and PAmiitNiA. 

Eng. Parthenia. 

Pnrth. Mother. 

Eug. 1 shall be troubledf 
This SIX uicmths ^vith an old clog; would the law 
Had been cut one year shorter ! 

Farih. Did you call, forsooth ? 

Eug. Yes, you must make some spoonmeat for 
your father, [Eiit Puilhenia. 

And warm three nightcaps for him. Out upon t ! 
The mere conceit turns a young woman's stomach. 
His slippers must be warm'd.in August too, 
And his gown girt to him in the very dog-days, 
When every mastiff lolls out's tongue for heat. 
Would not this vex a beauty of nineteen now ? 
Alas ! 1 should be tumbling in cold baths now. 
Under each armpit a fine bean-flower bag, 

To screw out whiteness when 1 list 

And some sev'n of the properest men in the dukedom 

Waking a banquet ready i' the next room for me ; 

Where he that gets the first kiss is envied. 

And stands upon his guard a fortnight after. 

This is a life for nineteen : 'tis but justice: 

Eor old men, whose great acts stand in their minds, 

And noihiug in their bodies, do ne'er think 

A woman young enough for their desire ; 

And we young wenches, that have mother-wits, 

And love to marry muck first, and man after, 

Do never think old men are old enough, [tance. 

That we may soon be rid o' them ; there's our quit- 

I've waited for the ha])py hour this two years. 

And, if death be so unkind to let him live still. 

All that time 1 have lost. 

Enter Courtiers. 

1 Court. Young lady ! 

2 Court. O sweet precious bud of beauty! 
-Troth, she smells over all the house, methinks. 

I Court. The sweetbriar's but a counterfeit to 

her 

It does exceed you only in the prickle. 
But that it shall not lung, if you'll be ruled, lady. 
Eug. What means this sudden visitation, gentle- 
men 1 



• He alludes to Dr. W. Uiiili-r, a very celebrated plijsician 
of Elizabeili's (lays. Tlie oilility of liis nianiiiT<., the siiigii- 
laiity of liis practice, anil the extraorilinary cincs wliicli he 
perfiirine I, rai>eil many strange opinions of him. " He 
never," (says Dr. U niiej " kepi any apprentice for his 
business, nor any maid but a funk-, anil yet his repntalion, 
thiity-five years after hi< death, was still so ureal, that 
many empirics got credit among the vulgar, by claimins; 
relation to I im, as having served him, and learned .i.ucii 
from liini." He died at an advanced ai;e, in 1618. 

t Eug. / shall he troubled, *«;.] Coxeler and Mr. M. 
Mason h.ive absurdly piinleil Ihisand tlie l<illowing sp> eches 
of Ku^tnia as prose. I cannot aiiounl for the motives 
uliicli induced th.;m '.) do so, as lliey are not only very 
good iiictie, but are arrauj;ed as such in the old copy. 



So passing well perfumed too! who's your mil- 
li.ier? 
1 Conri. Love, and thy beauty, widow. 
,'-,'/("■. \\ idow, sir ? 

1 Court. ' {'is sure, and that's as good : in troth 
we're suitors : 
We come a wooing, wench ; plain dealiiiu's best. 

Ems', a wooing! what, before my hiisbaiid'sdead 1 
, "2 Court. Let's lose no time ; six months will have 

an end ; 
1 know't bv all the bonds that e'er I made yet. 
Eug. I hat's a sure knowletlge, but it bolls not 

hi're, sir. 
1 Couit. Di> not we* know the craft of you 
young tumblers ? 
That "hfii you wed an old man, you think tipoa 
Another husband as you are marrying of hnn ; — 
We, knowing ynur thoughts, made bold to see you. 

Enter Simonides 7-ithly dresied, and Coachinart. 

Eug. How wondrous right he speaks ! 'twas my 
tliOUi;ht, indeed. 

Sim. By your leave, sweet widow, do you lack 

any gallants 1 
Eng, Widow, again ! 'tis acomfort to becall'd so. 

1 Couit. Who's this, Simonides? 

2 Court, Brave Sim, i'taith. 
Sim. Coachman. 

Coach. Sir. 

Sim. Have an especial care of my new mares ; 
They say, sweet widow, he that loves a horse well 
]Mu3t needs love a widow well. — When dies thy 

husband 1 
Is't not .luly next ? 

Eug. Oh, you are too hot, sir! 
Pray cool yourself, and take September with you. 
Sim. September ! oh, 1 was but t»vo bow s wide. 
1 Court, Simonides, 

Sim. I can intreat you, gallants, I'm in fashion 
loo. 

Enter Lysander. 

Lys. Ha ! whence this herdf of folly ? what are 
you ? 

Sim. Well-willers to your wife ; pray 'tend your 
book, sir ; 
We've nothing to say to you, you may go die, 
For here be those in place that can supply, 

Lys. What's thy wild business here ? 

Sim. Old man, I'll tell thee ; 
I come to beg the reversion of thy \vife : 
I think the.->e gallants be of my mind too. — 
But thou art hut a dead man, therefore what should 
a man do talking with thee? Come, widow, stand 
to your tackling. 

Lys. Impious blood-hounds ! 

S/m. Let the ghost talk, ne'er mind him. 

I/iys. Shames of nature ! 



• I Court. Do not we h?iow the craft of you young 
tumblers.' 

That when you wed an old man, &c.] This speech has 
h'tlierlo stood thus: Dont you know the craft o/'your 
young tumblers.' That you wed an old tnan, &c. I havt 
enileavouied to restore it to some degree of sense, by aherin^ 
one word, and inserting another. To those who are ac- 
quainted with the deplorable slate of the old copy, I shall 
easily stand e.Kcused for these and similar liberties, wliir.li, 
however, I have sparingly taken, and nevtr but in the most 
desperate cases. 

+ Lys. Ha.' whence this herd of folly ? Uliat are you f] 
This is the reading of the old copy ; for which Coxeler and 
Mr. M. Mason strangely give us, 

Ma! whence this uti\ie<iui-o( folly ? what are yout 



Scene II. J 



THE OLD LAW 



5C5 



Sim. AI119, ponr ghost! consider what the man is. 
Lws. Monsters unnatural ! you that have been 
covetous 
Of your own fathers' death, gape you for mine 

now ? 
Cannot a ])onr old man, that now ran reckon 
Even all tli^ hours he has to live, live (|uiet 
For such wild beasts as these, that neitlier Iiold 
A certainty of -Jiood within theinselvfS, 
But scatter others' comforts that are ripen'd 
For ho y uses? is hot youth so hasty 
It will not siive an old man leave to die. 
And leiive a widow first, hut will make one. 
The hu-iband looking; on ? May your destructions 
Come all in hasty figures to your souls! 
Your wealth depart in haste, to overtake 
Your honesties, that died when you were infants! 
May your male seed be hasty spendthrifts too, 
Your dauijhters hasty sinners, and diseased 
Ere they he tlionglit at years 10 welcome misery! 
And may vou never know what leisure is 
But a' repentance! — I am too uncharitable, 
Too foul ; I must go cleanse myself with prayers. 
'J hese are the plas^ues of fondness to old men, 
We're punish'd home with what we dote upon. 

[Eiit. 

Sim. So, so ! the ghost is vanish'd : now, your 
answer, ladv. 

Eiig. Kxcuse me, gentlemen ; 'twere as much 
impudence 
In me to "ive you a kind answer yet. 
As madness to produce a churlish one. 
I totild say now, come a month hence, sweet gen- 

tlenii'ii. 
Or two, or three, or wlien you will, indeed ; 
But I siy no such thing : I set no time, 
Nor is it niannerlv to deny any. 
I'll carry an even hand to all (he world : 
Let other women make what haste they will. 
What'- til It to me 1 but I piofess nnfeionedly, 
I'll linve my husband dead before I in irry ; 
Ne'er look for other answer at my bands. 

iS'i'H. Would he were hang"d, for my part, looks 
for otber ! 

Eiig. I'm at a word. 

Siin. And I am at a blow, then ; 
I'll lay vou o' the lijjs. and \f,\ve you. \^Kisses her. 

1 Court. \\ ell struck, Sim. 

Sim. lie that dares say he'll mend it, I'll strike 
him. 

1 Ciuiri. lie would betray himself tobe a botcher, 
That j;ofs about to mend it. 

Eii>r. (<eiitlemen. 
You know niv mind ; I bar you not my house, 
But if von choose out hours more seasonably, 
You may have entertainment. 

Re-enter Partiienia. 

Sim. What will she do liereafter, when she is a 
widow, 
Keeps open house already ? 

[Exeunt Simonides and Courtiers. 
Eug, How now, girl I 

Purth. Those featber'd fouls that hither took their 
(li^bt. 
Have grieved my father much. 

Eug. Speak well of youth, wench. 
While thou'st a day to live ; 'lis youth must make 

thee, 
And when youth fails wise women will make it ; 



But always take age first, to make thee rich : 
That was my counsel ever, and then youth 
Will make thee sport enous;h al! ihy lil'e after. 
'Tis the time's policy, wench ; what is't to bide 
A little hardness for a pair of years, or so 1 
A man whose only strength lies in his breath, 
Weakness in all parts else, ihv bedfellow, 
A cough o' the lungs, or sav a wheesing matter; 
Then shake off chains, and dance all thy life after ! 

Parth. Every one to their liking; but 1 say 
An honest man's worth all, be be young or gray. 
Yonder's my cousin. [£xil. 

Enter Hippolita. 
Eug. Art, I must use thee now ; 
Dissembling is the best help for a virtue 
That ever woman had. it saves iheir credit oft. 

Hip. How now, cousin ! 
What, wrrping? 

Eug. Can you blame me when the time 
Of my dear love and husband now draws on ? 
I study funeral tears against the day 
I must be a sad widow. 

Hip. In troth, Eugenia, I have cause to weep 
too ; 
Rut, when f visit, I come comfortably. 
And look to be so quited* : — yet more sobbing ! 
Eug. Oh ! the greatest part of your affliction's 
past. 
The wor>t of mine's to come ; I have one to die ; 
Your husband's f.ither is dead, and fixed in hiS 
E'ernul peace, past the sharp tyrannous blow. 
////). Vou must use |)atieii(e, coz. 
Eiig. Tell me of jiatience ! 

Hip. Vou have example for't, in me and many. 
Eug, Yours was a father-in-law, but mine a hus- 
band : 
O, for ;i woman that could love, and live 
With an old man, mine is a jewel, cousin ; 
So (pjietly he lies by one, so still I 

Hip. Alas ! 1 have a secret lodged within me, 
Which now will out in ])ity : — I cannot hold. 

Eug. One that will nor disturb me in my sleep 
For a whole month together, less it be 
With those diseases age is subject to. 
As aches, coughs, and pains, and these, heaveo 

kiiowst. 
Against his will too : — he's the quietest man. 
Especially in bed. 
Hip. He comforted. 
Eug. How can I, lady? 
None know the terror of an husband's loss, 
Uut they that fear to lose him. 

Hip, Fain would 1 keep it in, but 'twill not be; 
She is my kinswoman, and I'm pitiful. 
I must impart a gooii, if 1 know it once, 
To them that stand in need un't ; I'm like one 
Love.s not to banquet with a joy alone ; 
^iy friends must partake too: — prithee, cease, 

cousin ; 
If your love be so boundless, which is rare 
In a young woman in these days, 1 tell you, 

* And lonk to he so quited ;] Mr M. iMasmi ve [•U—And 
look to lie so f.ir iei|iiitr(l ! U hit lie iiii.igiiiuil l.u liad 
giintd liy ilnsliai-li hii<I iiiiiiittii.al .id.btimi.is dillicuit to 
cui;j,iliiie , till- Itxt is vciy 1; -iitl .sfn>c. 

* /-Is arliLS, colli) lis, and iiains, und thi'se, henrrn knnwt^ 
Ileif a^aiii Mr. d Al.ixin w.iiiu.iilj soplii^liraics lliu text; 
lie if-ad- aclts ; lint tlii' un.- wuid i> tii.il uliicli stands above 
(<ii:lu:s ), ,\|j|. Ii \va< ahvajs ■!>. ii III .Massiiiiji r'a Unit' as a 
ilissyllable, and piuuuuiicid utcli-es. 



506 



THE OLD T,AVV. 



I Act III. 



To one so much pa<t spivice as your husbiind, 
There is a vviiv to bpgiiile law, and liel,) you ^ 
My husband i'ound it out first. 
Eug. Ob, sweet cousin ! 

Hip. Vou may conceal iiim, and give out I is 
death 
Wiiliin tlie time ; order liis funeral too ; 
We bad it so (or ours, 1 praise heaven f. r't, 
And he'saliveand safe, 
Eug. O blessed coz, 
Ho»' thou revivest me • 

Hip. We daily see 
Tlie good old man, and feed him twice a dav. 
]\leijiiriks, it is tiie sweetest joy to cherish him, 
That ever life yet sbow'd me. 

Evg. So should 1 think, 
A dainry tliino- to nurse an old man well ! 

IJip. And then we have his prayers and daily 
blessinj!- ; 



And we two live so lovingly upon it, 
His son and I, an! .so conientediv, 
You cannot think iinlesi^ you tasted on't. 

Eiig. No, 1 warrant you. Oil, loving- cousin, 
\Vh;it a frr'-i\r sorrow has thou eased me of! 
A thousand (hanks pfo with thee! 

Hij). I have a suit to you, 
I must nut have you weep when I arti gone 

[Exit 

Eiig. No, if I do, ne'er trust me. Easy fool. 
Thou lia^t put tin self into mv power forever ; 
I'ake lieed ot angering; of nie : 1 conceal! 
I feijrn a funeral ! I k^ej> mv liushund ! 
'Las ! I've been thinking a,nv time these two years 
1 liave kept blm too long already. — 
I'll go count o'er my suitors, that's my business. 
And prick the man down ; I've six months to (io't. 
But could dis])atch it in one were I put to't. 

[E.tit. 



ACT III. 



SCENE \.— Befnri ihe Church. 
Enter GsOTno tiuii Clark. 

Gnnth. You have search'd over the parish-chroni- 
cle, sir \ 

Clerk. Yes, sir; I liave found out the true age 
and dale nl the party you wot on. 

Oniiili. Pray you, be cover'd, sir. 

Cteih. When vou have showed me tlie way, sir. 

(iiinih. Oil, sir, remember yourself, you are a 
clerk. 

Clerk. A small clerk, sir. 

Gnnth. Likely to be the wiser man, sir ; for your 
grea'est clerks are not always so, as 'tis reported. 

Clerk. You are a great man iti the parisli, sir. 

Gwth. 1 understand mvself so iniu h the better, 
sir , (or all the best in the ]iarish pay duties to tlie 
clerk, and I would owe vou none. sir. 

Clerk. Since you'll have it so, I'll be the first to 
hide niv head. 

Gimth. Mine is a capcase : now to our business 
in hand. Good luck, I hojie ; 1 long to be resolved. 

Clerk. Look you, sir, this is'that cannot deceive 
you :* 
This is the dial that goes ever true; 
You may say ipse diiit upon this witness, 
And ii is good in law too. 

Gnolh. Pray you, let s hear what it speaks. 

Clmk. Mark. .sir. Ai^atha, ihe rlaiighter >f Pollux 
(this IS your wife's name, and the name of her fa- 
tlier), horn 

Giinlh. Whose daughter, say you? 

Cle,k. The dnughter of Pollux. 

Giioth. I take if his name was Bollux. 

Clerk. Pollux the orthography, I assure you, s-ir ; 
the word is corrupted else. 

• C(erl< Lonk you, sir, thii is that cannot deceive pou :] 
fVhicIt, iiisei'tL'd by tlif iMudirn ctliiors alter that, is pei- 
foclly iiiiiieces.-ary, i.s tlii-y iiiiolit liavo diacovtrtd, long 
befiire Ihey readied this part of their work. 



Giwth. Well, on sir, — of Pollux ; now come on. 
Castor. 

Clerk. Born in an. 1.540; and now 'tis 99. By 
this infallible record, sir (let me see), she's now 
just fiftv-nine, and wants but one. 

Gnoth. 1 am sorry she wants so much. 

Cleik, VVh\, sir? alas. 'tis nothing; 'lis but so 
many months, so many weeks, so many 

Gnolh. Uo not deduct it to days*, 'tvill be the 
more tedious ; and to measure it bv hourglasses 
were intolerable. 

Clerk. Do not think on it, sir ; half the timp goes 
away in sleep, 'tis hall the year in nights. 

Gnoth. 0, vou mist.ike me, neighbour, I am loth 
to leave the good old woman ; if she were gone 
now it would not grieve ine, for what is a year, 
alas, but a lingering torment ? and were it not bet-, 
ter she were out ot lier Jiain ? It must needs be a 
giief to us hoih. 

Clerk. 1 would I knew how to ease you, neigh- 
bour ! 

Gnoth. You speak kindly, truly, and if vou say 
but Amen to it (which is a word that I know you 
are perfect in), it might be done. Clerks are the 
most indifleient honest men, — for to the marriage of 
your enfmy, or the burial of your friend, the curses 
or the blessings to you are all one ; you say Amen 
to all. 

Clerk. With a better will to the one than the 
other, neighbour: but I shall be glad to say Amen 
to any thing might do you a pleasure. 

Gnoth. There is, ti^.^t, something above your 
duty : now 1 would have vou set forward the clock 
a little, to hell) the old woman out of her pain. 



* Gnolh. Do not deduct itiodnyx,] A Lalini.«in, deducere 
brini; it do«n, or, as \\i: iv.iy, ndiice il lo days. 'Jliis ab- 
siirdiiy of consnltinu tlie ciiiiiilibo.ik furllie aL'e, &c.,iiiay 
bi' kept in coiiiiuiiaiue liy liea'iniont and I'liti'lier, \o\. 
(lili, |>. 24S. Indeed, tlit'i»' are several passages in tliib PUy, 
tliat re.scmble some in '/'he Queen oj' Corinth. 



Scene I.] 



TflK OLD LAW. 



5or 



Clerk. I will speak to the sexton ; but ilifi day 
will uo ne'er the f<isier for tliiit. 

Gimlh. Oil, nei<;hbour, you do not conceit me; 
not the jack of the clock-house, the hand of the 
dial, 1 mean,— Come, I know you, being a great 
cleric, cannot choose but haye the art to cast a 
figure. 

Clerk. Never, indeed, neighbour; I never had 
die judi;ment to cast a figure. 

Giioih. I'll show you on the back side of your 
book; look you, — what figure's this? 

CUrk. Four with a ciiiher, that's forty. 

Giwih. So ! foriy ; what's this, now ! 

Clerk. The cijdier is turn'd into 9 by adding the 
tail, whicli makes (bity-nine. 

Gnoth. Very well understood ; what is't now ? 

Clerk. The four is turn'd into three; 'tis now 
thirty-nine. 

Gnolh. Very well understood ; and can you do 
this again ? 

Clerk Oh ! easily, sir. 

Gnoth. A wager of that ! let me see tiie place of 
my wife's age again. 

Clirk. Look you, sir, 'tis here, 1540. 

GuiHh. Forty drachmas, you do not turn that forty 
into thirty-nine. 

Clerk. A match with you. 

Gnoili. JJone ! and you shall keep stakes your- 
self: there they are. 

Clerk. A firm match — but slay, sir, now I con- 
oider it, 1 siiall add ayear toyoiir wife's age ; let ine 
see — Scnophorion the 17, — and now 'tis Hecatomhaion 
the ] 1th*. If I alter this your wife will have but a 
month to live by law. 

Gwth. That's all one, sir ; either do it or pay me 
my wiiger. 

Clerk. Will you lose your wife before you lose 
your wager? 

Gnolh. A man may get two wives before lialf so 
much money by them ; will you do it? 

Clerk. 1 ijope you will conceal me, for 'tis flat cor- 
ruption. 

Gniiih. Nay, sir, I would have you keej) coun- 
sel ; for I lose my money by't, and sliould be 
laugh'd at for my labour, if it should be known. 

Clerk. \Vell, sir, there! — 'tis dune ; as' perfect a 
39 as can be found in black and white: but mum, 
air, — there's danger in this figure-casting. 

Giiolh. Av, sir, I know that: better men than 
you have been thrown over the bar for as little ; 
the best is, you can be but thrown out of the 
belfry. 

Enter the Cook, Tailor, Bailiff, and Butler. 

Clerk. Lock close, here comes companyf ; asses 
have ears as well as pitchers. 

Cook. Oh, Gnotho, h >w is't? here's a trick of dis- 
carded cards of us! we were rank'd with coats as 
long as old master lived|. 

Gnolh. And is this then the end of servingmen ? 



• Sciropliorioii, HecatDiiibaion, and, soon after. Decem- 
ber; wliat a iiiudliy ! This miserable (isleiit.itiuii of (ireek 
lileratiiiL- is, 1 believe, fioiii the p«ii ol Middletoii, who 
was "a pitee" of a s-cliular. 

t Lock close, here comes company j] .So the old copy: 
the luo lern edilois read — Look close, which has no me m- 
ing. 

I This alliulis to some !;anie, in wliich the low cards 
weretluoAu oni: coals were wliat we call cuiirt ends. 
The end nf serpiny-nten, which occurs in the next speech, 
u tlie title of an old ballad. t 



Cook. Yes, 'faith, this is the end of serving m mi 
a w ise man were better serve one God than all the 
men in the world. 

Gnoih. 'Twas well spoke of a cook. And are all 
fallen into fasting-days and Ember-weeks, that cooks 
are out of use ■> 

Tiiil. And all tailors will be cut into lists and 
shreds ; if this world hold, we shall grow both out 
of request. 

But. And why not butlers as well as tailors? 
if they can go naked, let them neither eat nor drink. 

Clerk. '1 hat's strange, meihinks, a lord should 
turn away his tailor, of all men : — and how dost 
thou, tailor? 

Tail. 1 do so §0 ; but, indeed, all our wants are ' 
long of this publican, my lord's bailiff; for had he 
been rent-gatherer still, our places had held toge- 
ther still, that are now seam-rent, nay crack'd in 
the whole piece*. 

Bail. Sir, if my lord had not sold his lands that 
claim his rents, 1 should still have been the rent- 
gatherer. 

Cook. The truth is, except the coachman and the 
footman, all serving-men are out of request. 

Gnoih. Nay, say not so, for you were Jiever in 
more request than now, for requesting is but a kind 
of a begging ; for when you say, 1 beseech your 
worship's charity, 'tis all one as if you say 1 request 
it ; and in that kind of requesting, 1 am sure seiving- 
men were never in more request. 

Cook. Troth he says true : well, let tliat jia-s ; we 
are upon a better adventure. 1 see, Gnotho, you 
have been before us ; we came to deal uiih this 
merchant for some commodities. 

Clerk. With me, sir? any iliinj,' that I can. 

But. Nay, we have looked out oOr w ive.- alreaiiy : 
niarry, to you we come to know the price.-, liiat i-, 
to know their ages ; for so much reverence we bear 
to age, that the more aged, they shall he the more 
dear to us. 

Tail. The truth is, every man has laid liy liis 
widow : so they be lame enough, blind eiiuugh, and 
old enough, 'tis good enough. 

Clerk. 1 keej) the town-stock ; if you can hut 
name them, 1 can tell their ages to a cia\. 
, All. We can tell their fortunes to an hour, then. 

Clerk. Only you must pay for turning ol the 
leaves. 

Cook. Oh, bountifully, — Come, mine fir.st. 

Bat. The butler before the cook, while \on live; 
there's few that eat before they drink in a morning. 

Tail. Nay, then the tailor puis in Ins needle of 
priority, for men do clothe themselves bi-fore iliey 
either drink or eat. • 

Bail. I will s.rive for no place ; the longer ere I 
many my wife, the older she will be, and nearer 
her end and my ends. 

Clerk. I will serve you all, gentlemer., if you will 
have patience. 

Gnoth. 1 commend your modesty, sir ; you are a 
bailiff, whose jdace is to come behind other men, 
so it were in tiie bum of all the rest. 



* It tlie reader wanted any additional primf that no part 
of this -cene was written by i\Ias,-io;;ir, he iiiiy,hi tin. I it in 
this piinninj; on llie terms n.-ed by t.iilors : in llicsr, ana 
similar conceits, he takes no pleasure. It is uiettlud suitt. 
and would almost lead one to think that it \va> iht produc- 
tion of II e sta'.;e, in its nonage, and not fairly attributable to 
any of the tnuusvirate. 



aos 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Act III 



Bail. So, sir! and ynu were about this business 

too, sff liiiio- out for H widow ? 

Giioth. Ai-.ick ! no, sir; 1 am a m-.irried niiui, and 
have those cares upon nie that you would Cuii) run 
into. 

Biiil. Wlini, an old rich wife! any man in tliis 
age desires sncli a care. 

fill, ill. I riiih, sir, I'll put a venture with you, if 
yon will ; I have a lusty old (|ueiin to niy wife, 
sound ot wind ;ind limb, yet I'll give out to take 
three fo'- ne at the niiirri;ige of niv second wile. 
liiiil. Ay, sir, hut how near is she to the law? 
Cmoth. I'.ilie thiit at hazard, sir; there must be 
time, you Knou-, to get a new. Unsight, unseen, I i 
take ihree to one. 

Bull. Two lo one I'll give, if she liave but two 
teeth ill her head. 

Giioth. A match; there's five drachmas for ten at 
my next wife. 

Bait. A match. 

C"ii/c. 1 siiail be fitted bravely : fifty-eight and 
upwards; 'tis hut a ye.ir an • half, and 1 mav 
chance nial;e friends, and heg a ynar of the duke. 

Bat. Ilev, hovs ! 1 am made, sir hiitler ; my wife 
that shall be wi'iits but two months of her time; it 
shall he one ere J many her, and then the next will 
be a honey mnon. 

Tail. I outstrip you all; I shall have but six 
weeks of Lent, if 1 get my widow, and then comes 
eating-tide, [dump and gorgeous. 

Giuiih. This tailor will be a man, if ever there 
were any. 

Ball. Now comes my turn. I hope, gooilman 
Finis, yon that are still at the end of all, with a so be 
it. Well now, sir.~, do you venture there as 1 have 
done; ann I'll venture here after you : Good luck, 
1 beseech ihee I 

Clerk. Amen, sir. 

Biiil. riiat deserves a fee already — there 'tis ; 
please me, iiiid have a better. 

Clerk. Allien, sir. 

Conk Ilnw, two for one at j'our next wife ! is the 
old line living ? 

Ghirh. You have a fiir matcli, I ofl'er you no foul 
one ; ii death make not haste to call her, she'll make 
none to go to him. 

But. I know her, she's a lusty woman ; I'll tal« 
the veiiiure. 

Gnci.ii. 1 here's five drachmas for ten at my next 
wife. 

Bat. A bargain. 

Cdiik. Nay, then we'll be all meichants ; give me. 

Tall. And me. 

But. What, lias the bailiff sped ? 

Bail. I am content ; but none of you shall know 
my hapiiiness 

Cierk. As well as any of you all, believe it, sir. 

Buil. Oh, clerk, you are to s eak last always. 

Clerk. I'll rememher't hereafter, sir. You have 
done with me gentlemen] 

Enter Agatha. 

All. For this time honest register. 
Clerk. I-are you well then ; if you do I'll cry 
Amen to it*. [£ji(. 

Conk. Look you, sir, is not this your wife ? 
Giiot't. iMy first wife, sir. 

* Clerk. Fare ynu well, then ; if you do, I'll cry Amen 
toil.] i. e. it yviij'are iveU:—\}ul iliis is a s.id abuse of cii- 
CteiMn. '"• 



But. Nay, then we have made a good match on't 
if she have no froward disease the « oman may live 
this dozen years bv her age. 

Tail. I'm afraid she's broken-winded, slo holds 
.silence so long. 

Cook, We'll now leave our venture to the event, 
I must a wooing. 

But. I'll but buy me a new dagger, and overtake 
you. 

Bail. So we must all ; for lie that goes a wooing 
to a widow without a weapon, will never ^et her. 

[E.retuit alt but Guotho and Agatha. 

Gnoth Oh, wife, wile! 

Aga What ail you man, you speak so pas- 
sion. itely* ? 

Giioili. ' lis for thy sake, sweet wife : who 
would think so lusty an old woman, with reason- 
able good teeth, anil her tongue in as perfect 
u>e as ever it was, should be so near her time ? — 
buttle Fates wiil have it so. 

Agii. What's ilie matter, man? you do amaze me. 

Giioih. '1 hou art not sick neither, 1 warrant thee. 

Ag'i. Not that I know of, sure. 

C'uoih. What pity 'tis a woman should be so near 
her end, and yet not sick ! 

Aga. Near her end, man! tush, I can guess at 
that ; 
1 have years gviod vet of life in the remainder : 
1 want two yet at least of the full riniiiher ; 
'J'lieii the law. 1 know, craves impotent and useless, 
And not the able women. 

Giiolh. Ay, alas ! I see thou hast been repairing 
time as well as thou couldst ; the old wrinkles are 
well filled lip, hut the vermilion is seen too thick, 
too thick — and 1 read what's written in thy fore- 
head ; it agrees with the church-hook. 

Aga. Have you sought ray age, man? and, I 
jirit ee, how is it ? 

GuoJi. 1 shall but discomfort thee. 

Af^ij. Not at all man ; when there's no remedy'', I 
will go, though unwillingly. 

Giiolh. \i)S). Just; it agrees with the book: 
you have about a year to prepare yourself. 

A<ia. Out, alas! I hope there's more than SO. 
Hu! do you not think a reprieve might be gotten for 
half a scote-^-an 'twere but five years 1 wuuld not 
care ; an able woman, methinks, were to be jiiiied. 

Gnoth. Ay, lo ''e pitied, but not help'd ; no hope 
of that : for, indeed, women have so hlemish'd iheir 
own re|iulations iiow-a-days, that it is thought the 
law will meet them at fifty vei'y shortly. 

Aga. iNlarry, the heavens forbid ! 

Giioth. I'here's so many of you, that, when you 
are old, become \Mtches ; some profess physic, 
and kill good subjects faster 'haii a burning lever; 
and then scliool-mistresses of the sweet sin, which 
commonly wecail bawds, innumerable of that sort: 
for these and such causes 'tis thought they shall not 
live above fifty. 

Agu. Ay, man, but this hurts not the good old 
women. 

Gnoth. Faith, you are so like one another, tha 
a man cannot distinguish them ; now, were I an 
old woman, I would desire ti) go beiore my lime, 
and offer myself willingly, two or ihree years be- 
ioie. Oh, those are brave women, and worthy to 
be commended of all men in the world, that, when 



* At;a. What ail you, man, you sprak so pi>.'iuiiatil;'?'' 
i. t. 6i> i)lriimivtl>, iosonowlullii ate iii.lv, Aci l, a<^. 1 



Steve I.' 



TIIF, OLD LAW 



509 



their Imsbnnds dip, thpy run to bfi hunit to tlc-.uh 
witli tliem : there's lianour and crndit ! j;ivi' me 
half a dozf n siioli wives. 

Aira. Av, if her husband wcr • dead before, 
twere a reasonable request ; if you were dead, 1 
<ould be content to be sf). 

Giioth. Vh-\ ihat's not likely, for thou hadsttwo 
husbands before me. 

Aga. 'flinn wouldst not have me die, wouldst 
thou, husband > 

Gnnlh. No, I do not speak to that ptirposf : but 
I snv, what credit it were for nie and tliee, if ilniU 
wouldst ; thin thou shouUlst never be suspected 
for a witch, a physician, a bnwd, or anv of those 
thinsfs: and then how daintily sh'uld I mourn fur 
thee, how bravelv shou'd 1 s^ee thee buried ! when, 
alas, if lie s^'oes before, it cannot choose but he n 
great grief to him to think In- has not seen his wife 
well buried. 'I'heie be such vir'uous women iu 
the wnr'd.'hut too few, too few, who desire to die 
seven vears before their time wiih all their 
hearts. 

Aof-. I have not (he heart to be of tliat mind; 
but, indeed, husband, I ihinlj. y<Hi wouhl have me 
gone. 

OimtJi. No. alas ! I speak but for yoiiv good and 
vour ciedif ; for when a woman may die q'uicMv, 
whv should she o;o to law for her death? Alii k. I 
Jieed not wish thee gone, for thou hast but a short 
time to s'ay with me : 3'ou do not know bow near 
tis, — if must out, you have but a month to live by 
the law. 

Afrii. Out alas! 
Giiolh. Nav. scarce so much. 

/4^'(r Oh. oh, oh. mv heart ! [Sicoon*. 

Giirth. Av.so! if ihoti wouldst go awav quietly, 
'twere s^vcetlv done, and like a kind wife ; lie but 
a litt'e loiioer. and the bell sliall toll for thee. 
A'jii. Oh my heart, but a month to live ! 
Giiolh. Alas, whv wouldst thou come back again 
foranmnth? I'll throw her down aoain — oh ! wo- 
man, 'lis not three weeks ; I iliink afortnight is the 
most. 

Agd. Nav, then T am gone alreadv. [Swoons. 

Gitn'th. 1 would make haste to the sexton now, 

but I am afraid the tolling of the bt-il will wake her 

again. If she be so wise as to l'o now — she stirs 

again: there '.s two lives of the nine eone. 

Agn. Oh ! wouldst thou not help to recover me, 
husband ? 

Gtioth Alas, T could not find in mv heart (n hold 
thee by iliv rose, or box thy cheeks ; it j^oes against 
my conscience. • 

Agn. I will not be thus frighted fo my death, I'll 
Eear<h the church records: a fortnight! 
'Tis too little of conscience, I cannot be so near; 

time, if ihou be'st kind, lend iije hut a vear. 

[Kiit. 
Gnoth. What a spi'e's this, that a man cannot 
persuade his wife to die in anv time with her eood 
will? I have another bespoke already; ihoimb a 
piece of old beef will serve to breakfist, vet a man 
would be glad of a chicken to supjier. The clerk. 

1 hope, understands no .Hebrew, atid cannot write 
backward what he hath writ forward already, and 
then 1 am well enough. 

'Tis but a month at most, if that were gone, 

My venture comes in with her two for one : 

"lis use enough o' conscience for a broker — if be 

had a conscience. [E.iif. 



SCENE II*. — A Roniii in '• reo s Hivise. 

Enter Kuoenia at one door, Simomlks and Courtiers 
<it llie other. 
Eiig. Gentlemen courtiers. 
1 ( oiiit. All your vow'd servants, lady. 
E^o-. Oh, 1 shall kill myself with infinite 
lasighter ! 
Will nobody take m)' part ? 

Sim. An't be a lauoliiiig business, 
Put it to me, I'm one of the best in l'.uro)ie; 
My father died last too. I have the most cause. 
Eiig. Vou have piik'd out such a time, sweet 
gentlemen. 
To make your sjdeen a banquet. 

Sim ( )h, the jest ! 
Lady, I have a jaw stands ready for't, 
I'll gape half way, and meet it. 

Eiig. IMy old husband. 
That <arniot say his prayi rs out for jeidnusy 
And inailness at your coming (irst to woo me — 
Sim. \Vell said, 
1 . C<ii(r(. Go on. 
2 Com t. On, on. 
Eiig. Takes counsel with 
The secrets of all art to make himself 
Youthful again. 

Sim. How ! youthful ? ha h .. l.a ! 
Eiig. .\ man of forty -five lie w( u!d fain seem 
to be. 
Or Scarce so much, if he might have his will, 
indeed. 
Sim. Ay, hut liis white hairs, they'll betray his 

lioarin-'ss. 
Eiig. Why, there you are wide : he's not the 
man you take him for. 
Nor will vou know him i\ hen von pee him again; 
There wdl be five to one laid upon that. 
1 Court. How ! 

Ei(g. Nay, you did well to laii<.h faimh there, 
I promise vou, 1 tbirdc he'll outlive ii'-- noiv 
And deceive law and all. 
.Sim. -Marry, gout forbid ! 

Eiig. ^'011 little think he was a fenciiij^-school 
At four o'clock this mortiiug. 
Sim. How, at fencing-si hool ! 
Etig. KL.e give no trust to womtin. 
Sim. Uv this light, 
I do not like him, then ; he's like lo live 
Longer than I, for he may kill me first, now. 
Eiig. His dancer Ufiw came in as I met you. 
1 Court. His dancer, too ! 

Eiig. They observe turns and hours with liim , 
The great French rider will be here at ten 
U'ith his curveting hor>e. 

'.^ Cniirt. These notwithstanding. 
His hair and wrinkles will betray bis age. 

Etig. I'm sure his head and beard, as he lias 
order'd it. 
Look not past fifty now : he'll bring*! to forty 
U iihin these four days, for nine times an hour 
He takes a black lead comb, and kembs it over : 
'! bree quarters of bis beanl is under fifty •, 
i here's but a little tuft of fourxore left. 
All o'one side, which will be bhuk by Monday. 



* Tliis fdiic i? ;il-o |)iiiile<I :is pnisf by the niixltrn edi- 
tors. Ciixtler feeiiis to li.,vr lircii veij ca|)ricMiis in bil 
iurti()ii,>- (.t iiittre, lur lie lias here (a* we 1 its in lo) many 
• 'il'er |)l,ii-. s) (le-eitt(' ilie cii iijiii.il. Mr. M. .Maioa is oni; 
accoiuitabli; lui liis want of aliti.lion. 



570 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Act. in 



lilltcr LVSANDEU. 

And, to approve mv initli, s^e wlipre he comes ! 
Laugh sufily, gt'iitlemen, ami look upmi liini. 

[ T}ieii go asiile. 
Sim. Now, by this hand, he's alnmst black i'the 

ni"Uth, indeed. 
1 Court. lie should die shortly, then. 
Sim. Marry, nieihiiilis lie dies too fast already, 
For lie was all white but ti week ag-o. 

1 Court. Oh ! this same coney-white takes an 
excellent black ; 

Too soon, a mischief on't ! 

2 C()«>-f. He w ill beijuile 

Us all, ittli;it little luft northward turn black too. 

Eh^"-. Nav, sir,. I wonder 'lis so lono- a turning. 

Sim. iMiivbe some fairy's child, lield iorth at 
midiiiuht, 
Has piss'd n[)on that side. 

1 Court. ]s(his the beard 1 

Lys>. Ah, sirrah! my young boys, I shall be for 
"yon : ' 

This liitle m-mo-v tuft lakes up more tune 
Tlian all the heard beside. Come vou a wooing. 
And I alive and lustv'! you shall find 
An alteration, juck-boys ; I have a spirit yet 
(An I could match nn hair to't, there's the fault*), 
And can do offices of \ouili yet lightly ; 
At lea>t [ will do. lhi.iii;b it pain me a little. 
Shall not a man, for a liiile foolish ay;e 
Knjov hi!^ Wile to himselt ? must youny court tits 
Play lombnvs' tricKs wiih her, and he live, ha ? 
I have blood that will not bear't ; yet 1 confess, 
I should be at mv [ir'ayers— but where's the dancer, 
there ! 

Enter Dancing-master. 

Musler. Here, sir. 

£,!/*• C'lnie, come, come, one trick a day, 
And 1 shall soon recover all again. 

Eug. 'Slight, an you laugh too loud, we arc all 
discover'd. 

Sim. AiiU 1 have a scurvy grinning laugh o'luine 
own, 
Will .spoil all, 1 am afraid. 

Eug. r\l!irr\ , liike heed, sir. 

Sim. Nav, an i should be hanj;'d I cannot leave it ; 
Pup! — 'here 'tis. [Laughs aloud. 

Evg I'eai e ! oh peace ! 

Lys. Come. 1 am readv. sir. 
I bear the church-book's lost where I was born too. 
And that shall set me hack one twenty years; 
There is no liuh comlort left in that : 
And— then mv ihiee court-codlings, that look par- 

boil'd. 
As if ihey came from Cupid's scalding-house 

Sim.. He means me sptcially, 1 hold my life. 

Mast. U hat trick will your old worship learn 
this morning, sir ! 

Lys. Aliinv. a triik.if ihou coiildst teach a man 
To keep his wile to himselt ; IM tViin learn that. 

Must. '1 hat's a hard tiuk, for an old man spe- 
cially ; 
The horse-nick comes the neaivst. 

Lys. 1 boll savest true, i'laiili, 
They must he horsed indeed, else there's no keeping 

tllHtn, 

And horse-phiy i:t fiJiirjcore is not so ready 



Most. Look you, here's your worship's horse- 
trick*, sir. IGiies a ipriiig. 

7.1/5. Nav, say not so, 
'Tis none of mine ; I fall down horse and man, 
HI but offer t it. 

Most. JNIy lif ■ or yours, sir. 

Lus. sav'st thou me so? [Springs aloft. 

Most. Well of!er'd, by my viol, sir. 

Lys. A i>ox of this horse-trick ! 't has played the 
jade with me. 
And iiiven me a wrench i'the back. 

Mast. Now, here's your inturn, and your tiick 
above grountl. 

Lvs. Priihee, no more, unless thou bast a mind 
To lav me nn.ler-orouiid ; one of these tricks 
Is enough in a morning. 

Ma\t. I'or your galliard, sir. 
You are complete enoiisli, ay, and may chidleii'^^^e 
The [iroiidest coxcomb of them all, I'll stand to't. 

Lys. Faiih, and I've other weapons for the rest 
too : 
I have pi-epared for them, if e'er I lake. 
Mv Gregories here again. 
Sim Oh ! 1 shall burst, 
I can hold out no longer. 

Lug. He s])oils all. [They come furnord, 

Li/s. The devil and his grinners I are you tome? 
Bring forth the weapons, we shall find you plav ; 
All feats of youth too, jack-boys, feats ofyomii. 
And these the we-'])ons, drinking, fencing, tlaiuiiif>-t : 
Your own road-ways, you clyster-pipes ! J am old, 

vou sav. 
Yes, jiarloiis old, kids, an you mark me well, 
i'his beard cannot get children, you lank suck- 

Unless such weasels come from court to help us. 
We will yet our own brats, you letclierous t!og- 
bolls! 

Enter II scrroot nith foils and glasses. 

Well said, d iwn with them ; now we shall see your 

spirits. 
What ! dwindle voua':.eadv? 
2C oil) t. 1 have no qnalitv|. 
Sim. Nor 1, unless drinking may be reckonkl for 

one. 
1 Court. Whv, Sim, if shall. 
Lys. Come, date vou choose your weapon, now? 

1 Court. 1 ? dancing, sir, an you will be so hasty. 
I.iys. \^ e're t\n' yoti, sir. 

2 Couit. Fencing, I. 

Lus. We'll answer vou too. 

.Sim. 1 :un for drinkiii;;' ; your wet weapon there. 
Ltjs. 1 hat wet one has cost many a priiicox 
"life; 
And 1 will send it through you rriih a powder! 
Sim. Let it come, with a pot ! I care not, so't bo 
drink. 



• f/l»i / cnvUI uiolrh uiy Iiair In I. there's t.'ir r.inll,) i.e. 
there'- liic viisito i,i i,r : Ui- i> ii Iim • I ii ei.hlii n ill ion ot'« lial 
U said upon il.e siibjicl. S<t '/ lir Lioiduian, Aa V. fee. 1. 



* /lev's your irorship's horse-trick, } Some inii 
veiling if lieiL- meant, bill I kiiuw U'-t \Ve. preiise i 
Tlie '\iHil (iceiu's ill A lliiman Kitted with hi/ 
— '■ Tln.in;li Wf be tiiil ciiiiiitry !■ Hows, it iini) l"-. 
«Mj 111 il.iiiciiig, we laii ill' llie Aorse-Uick as "ell 
i-eiA iiii; iiK'ii" — Act 1. 

+ .\nd these the weapons, driiMiii/, feneinf/, rim 
Tins line, wl'i/li (lese.iilie, i« li.i! lliu tVals (if yo'.ith i 
villi.. Ill uhich ll"ieMib.-e(|ii.iil s|)icclu-.s c:iniii.t be 
sKM.d. i- xsliully (iniitted by .Mr. \1. iMii.->iii. 

;2 C.iiiit. / hare no quality-] i e. iiii inole-i 
leasi, lliai is tlie ieii>e in wliicli Siinonides takes ii. 



;li cur- 
Ill. ii»n,. 
iliicss : 
ill tiie 

as Ihe 

iciw; .•] 
le, and 
under- 



l;in; at 



SrvN.. 'T 



■J I IE OI,D LAW. 



Ml 



I liojie inv iiii's "ill liuld. ;iii(l tlnit's (•'i-ii ;ill 
A •.'fi;!li-iri;ui cm lo:)k lor o1' siicli t rillil)iil).i*. 

Lus. rli.v i|u- (list A'f;i])i)ii . cuiiie, sinke, btrike, 
1 :,;.v. ■ 
i'es. yes, voii sliiill be (iist ; I'll o!)servt> court rules : 
AUvn\ s 1 he worst goes foreiiiosr, so 't« ill ])r()Vi', 1 
li()|.e. [y Ciicrtier (liiiices a gulliirdl;. 

O, sir, \(iu've sjiit Vi>iir jioison ; now couie I. 
Vow, toity ve.ivs i>o hacUw^irti and a-si:.t ine, 
Fall lioiii nil- h.U' my age, bur tor tiir< e inmutes, 
lliat 1 may fffl no crick ! 1 will | ut fair lor'i, 
Altliou^li 1 hazard twenty sciaticas. \^D<iiices. 

So, 1 have IjH you 

1 Ciitirt. Vou've done well, i'failli, sir. 
Li/s If VOII c.>nre.--s it well, 'tis excelieiit, 

And 1 have hit you soundly ; I am warm now; 
The second wenjiou m-tantly. 
2 Court. VMiat, so quick, sir? 
Will you I 01 allow v(jurself a breathing-time? 

Liia. I've breath enough at all tinits, Lucifer's 
inusk-cod. 
'J'o give your iierfuined worsIii[/ tliree venues ; 
A sound (dd infill puts his thrust betier iiome 
'I ban a spic d vcuiig man : iheie I. \_'Iliey fence. 

t Cdiui. I bell have at you, Iburscore. 

Li's. \ vu be, twenty, 1 hoiie, and you -Inill 
rtnd it. I f ye 

Sim. I'm glad I miss'd ibi.s weapon, I'd bad an 
Pojit out ere this time, or inv two biilter-ieetli 
Thru .St down my tlir'-at instead of a Hap-tlrai;on. 

Lijs. 1 here's iv\-o, pentweezle. [/i//* hin',. 

Mint. Lxcelleiitly touch'd.sir. 

2 Cold/. Jiad ever man such luck! speak your 
ojiiiiion, geiiilenien. 

Sim. Meihinks your luck's good that your eyes 
are in still. 
Mine would ha>edropt out like a pig's half roasted. 

Lys. l liere wants a third — and there it is again 1 
[Httn hint a^nbl. 

2 Court, 'She devil lias steel'd him. 

E«^. W hal a siroiig litnd is jealou.-y ! 

Lis. ^ ()U are di^jiatch'd, bear-whelji. 

Sim. I\ow comes niy weapon in. 

Lv'. Here, toad,->tool, here. 
Tis you and 1 must jilay these three wet venues. 

Sim. Venues in Venice glasses! let ilieni come, 
They'll biuise no flesh, 1 m sure, nor break no 
bones. 

2 Couit. Yet you may drink your eyes out, sir. 

Sim. Ay, but that's nothing ; 
Then ihey go voluntarily : 1 do not 
Love to have them tluust out, whether they will or 
no. 

Lys. Here's your first weapon, duck's-meat. 

Sim. How ! a Dutch wliat-do-you-call-'em, 
Stead of a German faulchion ! a sbiend weapon, 



of such tiillibnbs.] This 

jeenis to be a cant word for any thing of a trifiiiin nature : 
I meet with it agnin in Shirley: — 

" But 1 i(]|give ihee, and forget thy tricks 
Aiu\ tiiltibitbs." Byde Park. 

i 1 Courtkr dances a galli.ird.l A galliard is disciibud 
by Sir John Davis, as » swift and vianderiny dnnce, with 
\oft^ turns and ciipriols in the air ; and so very pixiper lo 
prove ihe stieiigih and aciiviiy of Ljsander. It is still 
more i;ra|ihieally dc.-cribed, as Mr. Gilihil>l observes, in 
Billion's /)na/. oflVrlancholy: " Let Iheiii lake their plea- 
snrc'S, young men ami maids, fli urifliiiig in their age, lair 
aiidlinel) (o behold, well attired, and of ceniely cm lia-it, 
d^ULt uio a Oreeke yaltiarde, and, as ihrir dame required, 
kept ill eir time, nvw^urn'nij, now traiinsi, ""'* apart, nuiv 
alt»uitJier,nowacourlesie, then a caper, &ii:.; that it was 
A pleasant sijjijt," fol. 1032. 



And, of all tliint;s, bard to betaken down : 

Yet (low II If iinist, I have a nose goes into'l ; 
I.-hall dinik double, i think. 
1 C-niil. I he sooner off, Sim. 
Lus. I'll piiv v II speedily, with a trick * 
I learnt once aiiioiig'st drunkards, here's ii h,.U pike 

[ Drinkt. 
Sim. Hal '-pike comes well after Dutch whai-do- 
you-call-'eiii. 
I'lipy'd never be asiimler by their good vvillt. 
i'Ciunl. Well pull'd of an old telluw ! 
Lys. Uh, bill \oiir lellows , 

Pull belter at a ro|.e. 

1 Conn. I here's a hair, Sim, 
In that glass. 

6im..'\ii'i be as long- as a halter, down it go s ; 
No bare slinll cross me. [Drinks. 

Ly.s. 1 II make you stink worse tliiiii )our pole- 
cats do : 
Here's long sword, your hist weapon. ^ 

lOJj'en liim ilic glass. 
Sim. No more weap .iis. 
1 Court. \\ bv. Iiow now, Sim ! bear up, ibou 

shamest us all, else. ' 

Sim. '6 ight, 1 shall shame you worse, an I stay- 
longer. 
I have got the scotomy in my head alreadyl, 
The whiiiisey : you all turn rounil.— do not you 
dance, gallams? 
"^ Clint. I'isli ! what's all this ? why, Sim, look, 

the last venue. 
Stm. Ac more venues go down here ; fur these 
two 
Are coming up again. 

C Couit. (Jut I I he disgrace of drinkers ! 
Sim. Yes, "iwi'l out, 
Do you smell no:hiirg- yet ? 
1 Couit. Smell ! 
Sim. l-areweil ipiickly, then ; 
\ <iii w ill do, if 1 siay. [Eii<. 

1 Court. A foil go with thee I 
1 ys. W hat, shall we put down youth at her own 
v in lies ! 
lieat folly in her own ground? wotulrnus mucli ! 
W hv may not we be held as full sufficient 
To love our own wives then, get cur own children, 
And live in free peace till we be dissolv d, 
I' or such spring butterflies that are gaudy wing'd, 
liut no more substance than those shamble Hies 
Which butciiers' boys si."jp between sleep and 

waking ? 
Come but to crush you once, you are but maggots. 
For all your beamy outsides ! 

Elder Cleanthes. 

Eug. Here's Cleanthes, 
He comes to chide ; — let him alone a little, 

* Lysan. I'll pay you speedily, rvith a trick, 

&C.1 Lys.indir give? Iheiii all har>li names — here he be?l<'W« 
one on Sinioniiles, which the delicacy or fear ol llie old 
piiblibher would not permit him to iiazaid in print : ^ani 
Viieuj:. 

T This sti.tf is not worth explaining ; tut the reader, il 
lie has any curiosiiy on ihe subject, may amply gralily il 
by a visil t'l I'antagriui and ids companions on ihe Isle 
Lnnasln. Below, ilieie i.- a mistrablt pun upon li.iir, — thf 
crossiuy of a hare was oiiiiiious. 

i J Jiave yot theicuims in my head already,] The sco- 
'oiny {^OKOTwua) is a di/ziness, or swimming in ihe lieaJ. 
Thus Jon.-on : — 

" Cart. How docs he with the swimniing of his he. id i 
Mos. O, >ir, 'tis past the scoiomy ; lie now 
Hath lost his feeling," Ike. The Fo». 



612 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Acr in. 



Our cause will be revenp;ed ; look, look, bis face 
Is sfX tor stormv weather ; do but mark 
How t'.ie clouds gather in it, 'twill pour down 
stniight. 

Clean. Methinks, I partly kno«v you, that's my 
i;rief. 
Could you not all be lost 1 tbat bad been hand- 
some, 
But to he known at all, 'tis more than shameful ; 
Why, was not your name wont to be Lysander ? 

Li/s. ' lis so still, coz. 

Clemi. Judgment defer thy coming! else this 
man's miserable. 

Eiig. i told you there would be a shower anon. 

2 Court. We'll in, and hide our noddles. 

l^Eieunt Eugenia tiivi Courtiers. 

Clean. What devil brought this colour to your 
mind, 
Which, since your childhood, Ine'ersaw you wear? 
[SureJ vou were ever of an innocent gloss 
Since 1 was lipe for knowledge, and would you 

lose it, 
And chanj;e the livery of saints and angels 
For this mixt monsirousness : to force a ground 
That has hnen so long hallowed like a tem|)le, 
Tobrin;^ forih fruits of earth now ; and turn back 
To the wild cries of lust, and the complexion 
Of sin ill act, lost and long since re]jented ? 
Would you begin a work ne'er yet attempted. 
To i)ull time backwardl 
See wliat your wife will do ! are your wits perfect? 

Li/s. My wits! 

Clean. 1 like it ten times worse, for 't had been 
sa tcr 
Now to be mad*, and more excusable: 
I hear you dance agaih, and do strange follies. 

Lys. 1 must confess 1 have been put to some, coz. 

Clean. And yet you are not mad ! pray, say not so ; 
Give me that comfort of you, that you are mad, 
That 1 may think you are at worst ; lor if 
'V'oii are not mad, I then must guess you have 
The first of some disease was never heard of, 
Which may be worse than madness, and more fearful. 
You'd iveep to si e your>elf else, and your care 
To pray would quickly turn you whitu again. 
I hail a father, had he liveil his month out. 
But to have seen th s most |irodigious folly, 
Th(re needed not the law to have him cut off; 
The sigiit of this had proved his execulior.er, 
And broke his heart : lie would have held it equal 
Dons to a sanctuary, — for what is age 
But the holy place of life, chapel of ease 
For all men's wearied miseries? and to rob 
That of her ornament, it is accurstf 
As from a priest to steal a holy vestment. 
Ay, and convert it to a s.'nlul cijveiinu-. 

[ Kiit Lrisander. 
I see 't has done him good ; blessing go with it. 
Such as may make hiiu pure again. 



• J'nr 't had been safer 



J^ms to be mad, &.<!.] Minus fst in.-aiiia fmyii. There 
are iiiaii.> trails nt Ma!,^illgt■l■ in i|„s ^,,,1 ,,f die »etiie. 

^ , it h acciawl] I lit- iditurs are 

nearly amvirt at ll.c .■„i,clii.-i„ii .,t n e.r lalicnr,-, yet llit-y 
are a.- t ;r lium aii> acqnaii.t.ine will) ilie ina.n.fr ot lli.ir 
autliur, .I., tli.j Hire at ^Liiiiia oui ; ihtx boili ih.,ii as be- 
fore aicin.-l, ilmn-li itsp. ils ilie m.ti... i,,!.! «as uit llic l.iii- 
guaue or i|n- lun.-. li >v(iiil(l be iiuipaid, ii.,bl.- to pass i\er 
tJiis ailii.ir.ibli .-peicli, willuiii ra liug <br kmiIiiV ^^ittiiii.m 
t.i Ilie <-..ialii.lM,i;lii„.>: ibi- n iu-.>ii"..i. i, hapi^v, and llie 
exprit ion bcaiiuiul in ihc lii;;lic=i il. j;rLc, 



Re-enter Ei'orNiA. 

Eiig. 'Twas bravely touch'd, i' faith, sir. 

Clean. Oh, you are u elconie. 
hug. Exceedingly well handled. 

Clean. 'Tis loyou I come ; he fell hut in my way, 

Eug. You mark'd his beard, cousin ? 

Clean. i\lark me. 

Eng. Did you ever see a Iiair so cliani;pil ? 

Clean. I must be forced to wake her loudly too. 
The devil has rock'd her so fast asleep; — strumpet! 

Eng. Do you call, sir? 

Clean. Whore' 

Eng. How do you, sir? 

Clean. Be I ne'er so well, 
I must be sick of thee ; thou art a disease 
That stick'st to the heart, — as all such women are. 

Eng. What ails our kindred? 

Clean. Bless me, she slee[)S still ! 
What a dead niodesty is iu this woman. 
Will never blush again ! I ook on thy work 
Hut with a Christian eye, 'twould turn ihv heart 
Into a shower of blood, to be the cau.--e 
Of that old man's destruction, think iipon'r. 
Ruin pteinallv ; for, throUi;h thy loose lollies, 
Heaven lias found him a faint servant lately : 
His goodness has gone backward, and engender'd 
With his old sins again; he has lost his prayers, 
And all the tears that were companions wi.h them : 
And like a blind-fold man (giddy and bliiuled). 
Thinking be goes right on still, s»verve hut ene 

foot, 
And turns to the same place where he set out ; 
So he, that took his farewell of the world. 
And cast the joys behind him, out of sight, 
Sumin'd up his hours, made eviu wuh time and 

men. 
Is now in heart arrived at youth again. 
All by thy wildness: thy too hastv lust 
Has driven him to this strong aposiacy.. 
Immodesty like thine was never cipiall'd ; 
I've heard of women (shall I call ihein .so?) 
Have welcomed suitors ere the corpse were cold ; 
But ihou, thy husband living: — tlioi.'rt too bold. 

Eng. Well, have you done now, sir ? 

Clean. Look, look ! she smiles yet. 

Eug. All this is nothing to a mind resolved; 
Ask any woman that, she'll tell you so much : 
You have only shown-a pretty saucy wit, 
Which 1 shall not i'orget, nor to leijuite it. 
You shall hear fiom me shortly. 

Clean. Siiaineless woman ! 
I lake my counsel from thee, 'tis too honest. 
And leave thee wholly to ihy stronger master; 
Bless the sex o'lhee from thee ! Unit's my jiraver. 
Were iill like thee, so impudentlv common, 
j\o man would e'er be found to w*ed u woman. 

Exit. 

Eug. I'll fit you gloriously. 
He ihat atiemjits to tiike away my pleasure, 
Til take away his joy*; and 1 can sure. 
His conceal'd faiber pays ior't : I'll e'en tell 

• I'll takeaway his joy ; and J can siire.] Sn (lie old 
cop) ; Coxtter ^oplli^ucated tliid pa^^al;e very awkwardly 
lie reads, 

and I can 'sure liiin 

I/is conceal'd .fat hi r pays .)'or't ! 
TliL- predy apli.vresis f sure lor assnie ),>'>< >^\ llie Mil:;ar run- 
iiiiii; 1)1 ilie ,-eiilcnie into Ilie m M line, niiglil li.ive laisnd 
m.-piiii.ii-. Ill an ordinary ;dilor tli.il '.lie list was inrnpre^l ; 
bill Mr. ,\l. \lafOii was iieU an (irilii.ai) eililor ; if Cuxetef 
be liiilit, it ia well; il not, he iooiia no liirlUer. 



Scene III. 



THE OLD LAW. 



51, 



Him that I mean to make tnv busband next, 

And be sbull tell the duke. — Mass, here he comes. 

Re-enter Simonides. 

Sim. He h;is liad a bout with me too. 

Ell);. VVl):i'I 110? since, sir *? 

Sim. A flirt, a little flirt ; be call'd me strange 
n;imes 
But 1 ne'er mitidcd Lim. 

Eng. Yau sliail quit him, sir. 
When lie as little luiiids you. 



Sim. I like tl at well. 
I love to be revenged when no one thinks 

of me ; 
There's little danger that way. 

Etig. This is it, then ; 
lie yiiu shall strike your stroke shall be pro- 
found. 
And vet your foe not guess who gave the 
wound. 
Sim. 0' my troth, I lore to give such wounds. 

[£.ieu>it. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I Before a Tavern. 

Enter Gnotho, Butler, Bailiff, Tailor, Cook, Drawer, 
and Courtezan. 

Draw. Welcome, gentlemen, will you not draw 
nearl will you drink at door, gentlemen? 

But. Oil ! the Slimmer air is best, 

Draiv. What wine will't please you drink, gen- 
tlemen ? 

But. De Chire, sirrah. [E.iit Drawer. 

Gmth. What, you're all sped already, bullies? 

Cook. My willow's o' the spit, and half ready, 
lad ; a luni or two more, and I have done with her. 

Gnoth. Then, cook, 1 hope you have basted her 
before this time. 

Co'ik. And stuck her with rosemary too, to sweeten 
her; she wns tainted ere she came to my hands. 
What an old piece of flesh of fifty-nine, elnven 
months, and upwards ! she must needs be fly-blown. 
Gnolh. Put her off, put her off, though you lose 
bv her ; the weather's hot. 

Cook. Why, drawer! 

Pt,e-enter Drawer. 

Draw. By and by ; here, gentlemen, here's the 
quintessence of Greece ; the sages never drunk 
better gra^e. 

Cook. Sir, the mad Greeks of this age can taste 
their Palermo as well as the sage Greeks did before 
them. — Fill. lick-spig;rot. 

Draw. Ad imiim, sir. 

Gnolh. My friends, I must doubly' invite you all, 
the fif(h of the next month, to the funeral of mv 
first wife, and to the marriage of mv second, mv 
two to one ; tuis is she. 

Cook. 1 hope some of us will be ready for the 
funeral of our wives by that time, to go with thee : 
but shall iliey be both of a day? 

Gnolh. Oh ! best of all. sir ; where sorrow and 
joy meet together, one will help away with another 
the better. Besides, there will be charges saved 
too; the same rosemary that serves for the funeral, 
will serve for the wedding. 

But. How long do you make account to be a 
widower, sir? 

* Eii(r. H'/iat.' no :^ since, sir ?] So the quarto. CoxettT 
reads, ! I hat :^ no since, sir.' ;iiid jMr. Mason, always cor- 
•^cting iu the wrong pl,ice. What T not since, sir ' 



Gnoth. Some half an hour; long pnough o' con- 
science. Come, come, let's have some agility ; is 
there no music in the house ? 

Draw. Yes, sir, here are sweet wire-drauers in 
the house. 

Cook. Oh ! that makes them and you seldom 
part; you are wine-drawers and they wire-drawers. 

Tail. And both govern by the pe>;s too. 

Gnoth. And you have pipes in your consort too. 

D-'aw. And sack-huts loo, sir. 

But. But the heads of your instniinen's differ : 
yours are hogs-heads, theirs cittern and gii tern- 
heads. 

Bail. All wooden-heads ; there tliev meet ;!gnia. 

Cook. Bid them strike up, we'll luive a nance, 
Gnotho ; come, thou shall foot it too. 

[Eli I Drauer. 

Gnoth. No dancing with me, we have .'Siit'n here. 

Cook. Siren ! 'twas Hiren, the f.iir Gieek, man. 

Gnoth. Five drachmas of that ; I say Siren, tiie 
fair Greek, and so are all fair Greeks. 

Cook. A match ; five drachmas her name was 
Hiren. 

Gnoth. Siren's name was Siren, for five drachmas. 

Ci'ok. '1 is done. 

Tail. Take heed what you do, Gnotho. 

Gnoth. Do not 1 know our own countrywomen, 
Siren and Nell of Greece, two of the fairest Greeks 
that ever were ? 

Cook. That Nell was Helen of Greece too. 

Gnoth. As lo.ig as she tairied wiih her husband, 
she was Ellen ; but after she came to Troy, she was 
Nell of Troj , or Bonny Nell, whether you will orno. 

Tail. Why, did she grow shorter when she came 
to Troy ? 

Gnoth. She grew longer*, if you mark the story. 
When she grew to be an ell, she was deeper than 
any yard of Troy could reach by a quarier ; there 
was Cres.sid was Troy weight, and Neil was avoir- 
dupois; she held more by four ounces, than Cies- 
sida. 



* Onoth. She grew longer, &c.] Tliis mistrable tiasti, 
which is quite silly enoiii;h to be origin,il, ha? \e the merit 
of being eiipied liom Shakspeaie. The reafirr v>ho has a 
taste for niceties of this kind will find, upon examiiMtiim, 
thai Massinger's assistants have improved n(ion the indecent/ 
if nut the lillli, of their original. 



14 



TflE OLD LAW. 



[Act IV 



Bail, Tliey say she caused niiiny wounds to be 
given in '1 my. 

Giiiiih. 'J'rue, slie was wounded lliere lierself, and 
cured again by plaiiter of Paris ; and ever ^ince that 
Las been used to stop lioles with. 

lie-enter Drawer. 

Draw. Gentlemen, if you be disposed to be merrv, 
the n)nr>ic is ready to strike up ; and here's a consort 
of mad Greeks, I know not whether they be men or 
women, or between botli ; lliey have, what do you 
call iliein, wizards on tiieir fiites. 

C'.o/c. \ izards, good man hck-spiggot. 

Bnt. If ihey be wise woni^n, ihey may be wizards 
too. 

Draw. 'I'hey desire to enter amongst any merry 
coaip iiiy of i;entlemeu-good-fellows fur a sirani or 
tw u. 

Enter Old Wovien* and Agatha in masks. 
Ci'i'A-. We'll strain ourselves vvith iliem, say ; let 
them loniH, Gnotho ; now for tlie honour of Epire ! 
Cinolli. No dancing- with me, we have Siren here. 

[/I <linire III) the Old Women and AoATriA ; they 
iijjer h> lake llie men ; all agree etcept Gnoiho, 
tvli>> sili ivilh the Courieiun. 

Ci'ii/i. Av? so kind! tlien eveiy one his wench to 
his Several room ; Gnotho, we aie all provi<led now 
as you lire. 

[Kieniit all bnt Gnoiho, Conrtezan, and 

AOA IIIA. 

Ciiolti I shall have two, ii seems: away ! I have 
Siren here already. 

Afi'i. W'hii , a mermaid t? [Takes off her mash. 

Cnall'. No, but a mai;.', horse-. ace : oh, old 
woman I is it you ? 

yig'i. Yes, 'tis I ; all the rest have gulled them- 
selvi-s, and taken their own wives, and shall 
know ihat they have done more than they can 
well answer; but I pr;iy \ou, husband, whut 
are yon doing ? 

(hiolh. I'aith, thus should I do, if thou wertdead, 
old Ag-, and thou hast not long- to live, I'm sure : 
we have Siren here. 

ylgu. Art thou so shameless, whilst I am living, to 
keep one under my nose ? 

Gnalh. No, Ag-, I do ]>rize her far above thy 
nose; if thou wouldst hiy me b -th iliiiie e\es in 
my hand to boot, I'll not leai-e her : an not asham- 
ed to be seen in a tavern, and has ^calCl- a fortnight 
to live? oh, old wop.ian, what art thou! must 
thou find no time to think ol tliy end ? 

Agn. O, unkind villain ! 

Gi.Klh. And then, sweetheart, thou slialt have two 
new gowns ; and the best of this old woman's shall 
make ihee raiment for the working- nays. 

/Iga. O rascal ! dost thou cjuarter my clothes 
alrtaily, too ? 

Guoih. iJer ruffs will serve thee for nothing but 

• Enli-r old IJ'otnen.] The stage dii-fct ion in ('oxetcr and 
Mr. M. Maj-on is, Enter old II omen. Gnolho's dance. 
Tile Imnier edit<ir h;i(l carelessly taken the name rmni (lie 
spiM cli 111' the Cook, and il c l.itti-r licli^-llloll^ly contilined llie 
blnmler, (hough lie must have setii liiat Giiuthois the only 
peiMin wild does no< daiici-. 

t Agt. 1^ hat, a mermaid /\ The mermaids of the 
wiitn'stinie had siiccicdeil to the Synns ot' llie .incienls, 
and possessed iill Iheir musical as »ellas .'-ediictive (piali- 
lies. Mennaiil nlsu »as one ol' the Ihnusand can) terms 
which terved to denote a strnmpel, and to this, perhaps, 
A.i:atha aUiidei>. 



to wasli dishes ; for thou slialt have thine* of the 
new lashiuii. 

A<iu. Impudent villain ! shameless harlot I 
Gmiih. Vou may hear she never wore any but 
rails all her lifetime. 

y^ga. Let me come, I'll tear the strumpet from 
him. 

Gnoth. Dar'st thou call my wife strumpet, thou 
])reterpluperiect tense of a woman ! I'll make thee 
do ])ejiaiice 'ii th^ sheet thou shalt be buried ill ; 
abuse niv choice ! mv iwo-to-cme ! 

■■'ga. No, unkind villian, I'll deceive thee yet, 
1 have a rejnieve for five years of life ; 
I am with child. 

Court. Cud so, Gnotho, I'll not tarry so long, 
five years ! I may bury two husbands by that 
time. 

Giioih. Alas ! give the poor woman leave ti talk, 
she wiih cliiUl ! ay, vviih a i>uppy : as long as I 
have thee by me, she shall not be with child, 1 war- 
rant thee. 

■Agn. The law, and thou, and all, shall find 1 am 
with child. 

Gnoih. I'll take mv corporal oath I begat it not, 
and then thou diest for adultery. 

Aga. No matter, that will ask some time in the 
proof. 

Gnoth. Oh ! you'd be stoned to death, would von? 
all old women would die o' that fashion wilh all 
their hearts; hut the law shall overthrow you the 
other way, first. 

Conrt, Indeed, if it be so, I v^-ill not linger so long, 
Gnotho. 

Gnoth. Away, away! some botcher has got it, 
'tis hut a ciisliiori, I wiiriant thee : ihe old woman 
is lolli to depnilj; she never sung other tune in her 
life. 

Court. We will not have our noses bored with a 
cushion, il it be so. 

Gnoih. Go, g<t ihy ways, ihou old almanack iit the 
twenty-eighih dav of December, e'en almost out of 
date! Down on thy Knees, and make thee rea<ly ; 
seil some of ihv clothes to buy thee a death's head, 
and put u]ioii mv midille finger: your least con.-ider- 
iiig bawd does so much ; be not thou worse, though 
tiniu art not an old woman, as she is : I am cloy'd 
with old sto(k-fi.--h, here's a young perch is sweeter 
meat by half; prithee, die before ihy dav if thou 
canst, that ilu.u iiiiiyst not be counted a witch. 



* f(n- thna shalt have (hine of ihf nru 

fashion.] The old c.^py nads, nine of Ihe new Jushivn: 
1 have little (hiichl hut that the woul which 1 have nisiilti) 
is Ihe j;i niiii.e owe. 

t 'I'he old wanian is loth to depart :] There was ancienllj 
a tniie ol this name, and lo that Unotho allude::. In II il oX 
Heveiiit II ftiyons, the old Copy lias — 

" Pouriiey Hi.ni, liimi, hum ! He hums loth to depart." 
Onwhicli the i-dilois oljserve, that " the impropriety (it put 
till;; ihis passa'^e into Poiiipey 's inoiilh is evident upon th» 
hare iiienlion, as it imqntstionnbly belongs to the nex' 
speaker." And to the next speaker they boldly !;ive it! 
but they did not iinderMaiul their author. The last pait o< 
the quotation is meiily a ni.irsinai direction, and the pas 
sa;;e in luiuie sluiiild \iv ihiis regul,ite<l : 
•' I'oiJip. Hum, hum, hum ! 

[//(• hums Lolh to Depart." 
The same cxpie?.sinn occurs in The Mans the Matter ot 
d'Avenanl, wli.ie the ii.odcin editors have also misuiider. 
stood it: " Yi.u'd t'.in stay to sUigloth to depait." 

Il is alM) inenlioned in Hut old and popular balad, 4r/^ur 
of Bradley : 

" Th. n Will, and his sweetheart, 
Did call for loth to depart," &c. 



Scene II. J 



THE OLD LAW, 



5U 




No thou art a witch, and I'll prove it ; I 
as with cliilii, thou knew'st no otlicr hut by 
: tliou said'st it wa- a cushion, and so it is ; 
a witch tbi't. I'll be sworn to't. 
;. Ha, ha, ha! I told tliee 'twas a cushion, 
thy sheet ready, we'll see tbee buried as we 
urch to be married. 

[Exeunt Gnotho nnd Coiirtetan. 

Nay, I'll follow thee, and show myself a 

'11 i)la^ue thee as lon<^ as I live with thee ; 

bury some money before I die*, that my 

lay haunt thee afterward. [tiit. 



SCENE U.— The Country. A Forest. 

Enter Cleanthes. 

Clean. What's that ? ch, nothing but the whisper- 
ing; wind 
Breathes through yon churlish hawthorn, that grew 

rude, 
As if it chid the gentle "breath that kiss'd it. 
I cannot be too circumspect, too careful ; 
For in these woods lies hid all my life's treasure, 
Which is too much never to fear to lose, 
Though it be never lust : and if our watchfulness 
Ought to be wise and serious 'gainst a thief 
That comes to steal our goods, things all without us. 
That prove vexation often more than comfort, 
How mighty ought our ))rovidence to be 
To prevent those, if any such there were. 
That come to rob our bosom of our joys, 
That only make poor man delight to live ! 
Pshaw ! I'm too fearful — fie, he ! who can hurt 

me ? 
But 'tis a generlil cowardice, that shakes 
The nerves of confidence ; he that hides treasure. 
Imagines every one thinks of that place, 
Wh||i 'tis a thing least minded ; nay, let him change 
Thl^ilace continually ; where'er it keeps, [house 
There will the fear keep still : yonder's the store- 
Of all my comfort now — and see ! it sends forth 

Enter HtppoLiTA. 

A dear one to me : — Precious chief of women, 
How does the good old soul ? has he fed we'l 1 

HiiK lieshrew me, sir, he made the heartiest 
meal to-day — 
Much good may't do his health. 

Clean, A blessing on tliee, 
Both for thy news and wish! 

Hip. His stomach, sir. 
Is better'd wondrouslv, since his concealment. 

Clean. Heaven lias a blessed work in't. Come, 
we are safe here ; 
I prithee call him forth, the air's much wholesomer. 

Hip, Fattier ! 

• And I'll bury some money litfore 1 die, &c.] This, as 
every vMie kiiuws, wjs ^ii i.,l',illilile method dl' (^aiifiiis; the 
person who di'l it, to walk nflci dualli. It is not uiiijli'asaiit 
to remark, how ottfii one t. lly i* coniilfrai tt-d by another: 
but lor lhi^ s.iliitarj persnasiini, which was ome very p eva- 
lent, niiiili iii' n»-y would have been lost to the coininniiity 
in troiibl. some times. Ilii-inity snpi-istition is rtit;iiiiie<l by 
the ad.ppiioM ol .Sliakspeare ; it isalso iieqiitiitly to be I'oMod 
« tlie writers <it liis ai;e. T. iis Shiiliy : 

" I do but thii.k liiiw .«oino like sjli'osts will walk 
Fur' money surely hi(l(t*;ii." 
Again : 

" Call tills a eh iieh yard, and iinauineme 
iSoiiiC waketid i|>|iai ilii.ii 'moiijc the i;iavc5, 
Ihi!, y'or siniie tii'itsuir luiird'm tny life, 
W allc up and down ihu»." The H edding. 



Enter Leonides. 

Leon, How sweeilv sounds the voice of a good 
woman ! 
It is so seldom heard, that, when it sjieaks. 
It ravishes all senses. Lists of honour ! 
I've a joy weeps to see vou, 'tis so full. 
So fiiirly fruitful. 

Clean. I hope to see ycu often and return* 
Loaded with blessings, still to pour on some ; 
I find them all in mv contented ])ence. 
And lose not one in thousands ; tliev are disperst 
So gloriously, I know not which are brightest. 
I find them, as angels are found, by legions : 
First, in the love and honesty of a wife. 
Which is the chieCest of all temjioral blessings; 
Next in yourself, which is the hope and joy . 
Of all my actions, my affairs, my wi>hes; 
And lastly, which crowns all, 1 find my soul 
Crown'd with the peace of them, the eternal riches, 
Man's only portion f(.ir his heavenly inarriii;.'e ! 

Leon. Rise, thou art all obedience, love, and 
goodness. 
I dare say that which thousand fathers cannot. 
And that's my piecious comfort, never son 
Was in the way more of celestial lising : 
Thou art so made of such ascendins^ virtue, 
I'hat all the powers of hell can't sink thee. 

[A twrn sounded within. 

Clean. Ila ! 

Leon. \Vhat was't disturb'd my joy 1 

Clean. Did vou not hear, 
As afar oft'? 

Leon. What, my excellent comfortf ? 

Clean. Nor you ? 

Hip. I heard a — , [A horn. 

Clean. Hark, again ! 

Leon. Bless my joy. 
What ails it on a sudden? 

Clean. Now, since lately? 

Leon, 'lis nothing but a symptom of thy care, 
man. 

Clean. Alas ! you do not hear well. 

Leon. \\ hat was't, daughter? 

Hip. I heard a soiiik!, twice. [A horn. 

Clean. Hark ! louder and nearer: 
In, for the j.recious good of virtue, (]uick, s-ir I 
Louder and nearer yet I at hand, at hand ! 

[Exit Leonidet 
A hunting here? (is strange' I never knew 
Game followed in these woods before. 

Enter Evandek, Simomdes, Courtiers, and 
■ Cratilus. 



Hip, Now let them come, and spare not. 
Clean, Ha! 'tis — is't not the duke?- 
sparingly. 



■lock 



• Clean. / hnpe to tee you often and retnrn 
Loaded with blrssinys,) Often and return, lor often re- 
turn, is a mode ol speech so familiar lo Mas-ini;er, ihat we 
mifjiit almost affirm this exquisite scene to tie his, if we 
Cold, I inaint.iin any thing with conlidince in lliis mo^t iii- 
eoirect piililieation. Be it whose it may, however, it nialiCB 
larije amends ,01 lie dull and tedious buttboneiy of llie for- 
mer I art of this act. 

t Leon (/ hut, my errellent comfort?] The <.M copy ha« 
consort, which inilneed CoNcter to give the speech to Hip- 
pohta. I h.ne little doubt bat that the misiake is in thia 
Koid, wliich should be comfort, as it st.mds in the text t 
by thisteim tlie f.'iid pirent fieqiienlly addiesses his cliil 
dieii. In the 11 outh o* Uonides, too, it ionns a natural re- 
ply to ihe quistion of Cleanthes, who liitii tur.«s 'o make 
I Ihe same demand of his wife. 



&16 



THE OLD LAW 



f -^rr 1\ 



Hip. 'Tis he, but what of that? alas, take heed, 
sir, 
Your care will overthrow us. 

Elean. Come, it slutll not : 
Let's set a ple;is<int face iijion our fears, 
Thouu't) iiurliearts shake witb horror. — Ha, ha, ha ! 

Evan. Hark ! 

Elean. Prithee, proceed ; 

am taken with these light things infinitely, 
Since the ohl man's decease ; ' ha ! — so they parted ? 
ha, ha, ha ! 

Evan. Whv, how sliould I believe this? look, 
he's merry 
As if he had no such charge : one with that care 
Could never be so; still lie holds his temper, 
And 'tis the same still (with no dift'erence) 
He brought his father's cor|)se to the grave with ; 
He laugh'u thus then, you know. 

1 Court. Ay, he maj laugh, 
That shws but how he glories in his cunning; 
And is, perhaps, done more to advance his wit. 
That only he lias ovei-reach'd the law, 
'I'han to express atlectioii to his father. 

Sim. He tells you right, my lord, his own cousin- 
gernian 
Reveal 'd it first to me ; a free-tongued woman, 
And very excellent at telling secrets. 

Evan. H'a onteiiipi can be so neatly carried, 
It gives me cause ot wonder. 

Sim, Trotii, ii.v lord, 
'Twill pmve a delii ate cozening, I believe; 
I'd have no scrivener offer to come near it. 

Evan. Cleanthes. 

Elean. My loved lord. 

Evan. Not moved a whit. 
Constant to lightness still* ! 'Ti's strange to meet 

you 
Upon a ground so unfrequented, sir: 
This does not fit your passion, you're for mirth. 
Or I mistake you inuch. 

Clean. But finding it 
Grow to a noted imperfection in me, 
For any thing too much is vicious, 
1 come to these disconsolate walks of purpose. 
Only to dull and take away the edge on't. 
I ever had a greater zeal to sadness, 
A natural propension, 1 confess. 
Before that cheerful accident fell out — 
If I may call a father's funeral cheerful 
Without wrong done to duty or my love. 

Evan. It seems then, you take pleasure in these 
walks, sir. 

Clean. Contemplative content I do, my lord ; 
They bring into my mind oft meditations 
So sweetly precious, that in the parting 
I find a shower of grace upon my cheeks. 
They take their leave so feelingly. 

Evan. So, sir ! 

Clean. Which is a kind of grave delight, ray lord. 

Evan. And I've small cause, Cleanthes, to afford 
you 
The least delight that has a name. 

Clean. My lord! 

Sim. Now it begins to fadge. 

1 Court. Peace ! thou art so greedy, Sim. 

Evan. In your excess of joy you have express'd 
Your rancour and contempt against my law : 



* Consfa?it to liKlitiicss still-] The old ropy reads, Con- 
ttanl to li^lr.eiiiliK stilt. The emendation by Mr. M. Mason. 



Your smiles deserve a fining ; you have pr il'ess'd 

Derision openlv, e'en to my face, 

Which might be death, a little more incense'l. 

\ ou do not come for any freedom here, 

But for a project of your own : — 

But all that's known to be contentful to thee, 

Shall in the use prove deadly. Vonr life's mine, 

H' ever your jiresumption do but leiid \ou 

Into these walks a.ain, — ay, or that womau ; 

I'll have them watched o' purpose. 

[Clfd'ithes retires from the woivt, followed bu 
Hippobta. 

1 Court. Now. now, his colour ebbs and Hows. 

Sim. Mark her's too. 

Hip. Oh, who shall bring food to the poor old 
man, now ! 
Speak somewhat, good sir, or we're lost for ever. 

Clean. Oh, you did wonderous ill to call me 
again. 
There are not words to help us; if 1 entreat, 
'Tis found, that will betray us worse than silence* ; 
Prithee let heaven alone, and let's say nothing. 

1 Court. You have struck them dumb, my lord 

Sim. Look how guilt looks ! 
1 would not have that fear upon my flesh, 
To save ten fathers. 

Clean. He is safe still, is he not ? 

Hip. Oh, yon do ill to doubt it. 

Clean. Thou art all goodness. 

Sim. Now does your grace believe ? 

Evan, 'lis too apparent. 
Search, make a speedy search ; for the imposture 
Cannot be far off, by the fear it sends. 

Clean. Ha ! 

Sim. He has the lapwing's cunning, 1 am afraid, 
That cries most when she's furthest from the nestf 

Clean. Oil, we are betray'd. 

Hip. Betray'd, sir ! 

Sim See, my lord, j||^ 

It comes out more and more still. " 

[^Simonides and Courtiers enter the wood. 

Clean. Bloody thief! 
Come from that place ; 'tis sacred : homiciae . 
'Tis not for thy adulterate hands to touch it. 

Hip. Oh miserable virtue, what distress 
j Art thou in at this minute ! 
! Clean. Help me, thunder, 

»For my ])ower's lost! angels, shoot plagues, and 
I help me ! 

Why are these men in health and I so heart-sick? 
Or why should nature have that ])Ower in me 
To levy up a thousand bleeding sorrows. 
And not one comfort? only make me lie 
Like the poor mockery of an earthquake here, 



• if I mtrent, 

'Tis fonntl, that will betray us worse than silence ; \ The 
sense of tliis, and, indeed, of the whole speech, is sufficiently 
clear. You should not have Ciilkd me back, says Cleanihes; 
no words can help us, for if 1 beseech the dnke to siilftrme 
to remain here, the secret will be discovered : entreaties will 
be worse than silence, for by these his suspicious will be con- 
firmed. This, however, does not satisfy Mr. M. Mason, 
who chooses to modernize it in this way : 

• • if I entreat, 

'Tis sound that will betray us worse than silence ; 
t Sim. He hax the 'apwiny's cunning, 1 am afraid, 
That cries riioat xrhen she's fartltesi from the tiett.] Oat 
old potts abonnd in allusions to this straia^eni cf the lap- 
wiiJi; ; thus Jonson : 

" He tliat knows, will like a lapwing fly 
Far iVi ni the nest, and so himself belie 
To others," &c. Underwood*. 



Scene IL] 



THE OLD LAW, 



517 



Panting with liorror, 

And have not so much force in all my vengeance, 

To shake a villain off me. 

Re-enter Simonides and Courtiers with Leonides, 

Hip, Use him gentiv, 
And heaven will love you for it. 

Clean. Father I oh iUtlier ! now I see thee full 
In thy affliction ; thou'rt a man of sorrow, 
But reverendly becom'st it, that's my comfort: 
Extremity was never belter graced 
Than with that look of thine, oh ! let me look still, 
For I shall lose it ; all my joy and strength 

[Krieels. 
Is e'en eclipsed together : I transgress'd 
Your law, my lord, let me receive the sting on't ; 
Be once just, sir, and let the offender die : 
He's innocent in all, and I am guilty. [speaks, 

Leoti. Your g'race knows when* aff'ection only 
Truth is not always there ; his love would draw 
An undeserved misery on his youth. 
And wrong a peace resolved on both parts sinful. 
'Tis I am guilty of my own concealment. 
And, like a worldly coward, injured heaven 
With fear to go to't : — now I see my fault, 
And am prepared with joy to suffer for it. 

Evan. Go, give him quick dispatch ; let him see 
death : 
And your presumption, sir, shall come to judgment. 
[Eieiuit Evan'ier, Courtiers, Simonides, and 
Cratilus with Leonides. 

Hip. He's going ! oh, he's gone, sir ! 

Clean. Let me rise. 

Hip. Why do vou not then, and follow? 

Clean. I strive for it. 
Is there no hand of pity that will ease me. 
And take this villain from my heart awhile? [Rises. 

Hip. Alas ! he's gone. 

Clean. A worse supplies his place then, 
A weight more ponderous ; I cannot follow. 

Hip. Oh misery of affliction! 

Clean. They will stay 
Till I can come ; they must be so good ever, 
Though thev be ne'er so cruel : 
My last leave must be taken, think of that, 
And his last blessing given ; I will not lose 
That for a thousand consorts. 

Hip. That hope's wretched. 

Clean. The unutterable stings of fortune ! 
All griefs are to be borne save this alone, 
This, like a headlong torrent, overturns 
The frame of nature : 
For he that gives us life first, as a father, 
Locks all his natural sufferings in our blood. 
The sorrows that he feels are our heart's too, 
They are incorporate to us. 

Hip. Noble sir ! 

Clean. Let me behold thee well. 

Hip. Sir ! 

Clean. Thou shouldst be good. 
Or thou'rt a dangerous substance to be lodged 
So near the heart of man. 

Hip. What means this, dear sir 1 
Clean. To thy trust only was this blessed secret 
Kindly committed, 'tis destroy'd, thou seest; 
What follows to be thought on't] 

Hip. Miserable ! 
Why, here's the unhappiness of woman still : 
That, having forfeited in old times her trust. 
Now makes their faith suspected that are just. 
36 



Clean. What sh:il! I say to all my sorrows then. 
That lo.'k lor satisf;ictioii ? 

Enter Eugenia. 

Em^'. Ma, ha, ha! cousin. 
Clean. I low ill dost thou become this time 
Eng. Ila, ha, lin ! 
Why, t!ia 's but, your opinion ; a young wench 
Becomes the time at all times. 
Now, coz, we are even : an you be remember'i. 
You left a strumpet and a whore with me, 
And such fine field-bed words, which could not cost 

you 
Less than a father. 

Clean. Is it come that way? 
Eng. Had you an uncle, 
lie should go the same way too. 

Clean. Oh eternity. 
What monster is this fiend in labour with ? 

Eng. An ass-colt with two heads, that's she and 
you : 
I will not lose so glorious a revenge. 
Not to he understoiid in't ; 1 betray 'd him ; 
And now we are even, you'd best keep vou so*. 
Clean. Is there not poison yet enough to kill me ? 
Hip. Dh, sir, iorgive me; it was 1 betray'd 

him. 
Clean. How , 

Hip. 1. 
Clean. The fellow of my heart ! 'twill speed me, 

then. 
Hip. Her tears that never wept, and mine own 
pity 
Even cozen'd me together, and stole from me 
This secret, which fierce death should not have 
purchased. 
Clean. Nay, then we are at an end ; all we are 
t'iilsf ones, 
And oiiwht to suffer I was false to wisdom. 
In trusting woman ; thou wert false to faith. 
In uttering of the secret ; and thou false ■• 
To goodne>s, in deceiving such a pily : 
We are all tainted some way, but thou worst. 
And for thy infectious spots ought'st to die first. 

[^Ojff'ers to kill Eugenia. 
Eng. Pray turn your weapon, s'r, upon your 
niist'ess, 
I come not so ill friended : — rescue, servants ! 

Re-enter Simonides and Courtiers. 

Clean. Are you so whorisbly provided? 
kim. \es,sir. 
She lias more weapons at command than one. 

Eug. Put forward, man, thou art most sure to 

have me. 
Sim I shall be surer if I keep behind, though. 
Eng. Now, servanis, show your loves. 
Sim. I'll show my love, too, afar off". 
Eng. I love to be so courted, woo me there. 
Sim. 1 love to keep good weapons, though ne'er 

f(niij;ht with. 
I'm shar|ier set within than I am without. 
Hip. Oh gentlemen! Cleanthes! 
Eng. Fight ! upon him ! 
Clean, iliy thirst of blood proclaims thee now a 

strumpet. 



♦ And unw we art- even, you'd best keep you ?o.] Iknow 
not liiiw Ml. M. Masoii ■inderstood this line, but hi altered 
you w Idtn I 



«18 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Act V 



Eiig. Tis dainty, next to procreation fitting ; 
I'd either be destroying; men or getting. 

Enter Guarjd. 

t Officer. Forbear, on your allegiance, gentlemen. 
He's the duke's ^jriaoner, and we seize upon him 
To answer this contempt against the law. 

Clean. I obey fate in all things. 

Hip. Hapjiy rescue ! 

Sim. I would you'd seized upon him a minute 
sooner, it had saved me a cut finger : I wonder how 
1 came by't, for I never put my hand forth, I'm 



sure ; I think my own sword did cut it, if truth 
were known ; may be the wire in ihe handle : I 
have lived these five and twenty years and never 
knew what colour my blood was before. I never 
durst eat oysters, nor cut peck-loaves. [you 

Eiig. You've shown your spirits, gentlemen ; but 
Have cut your finger. 

Sim. Ay, the wedding-finger too, a pox on't ! 

1 Court. You'll prove a bawdy bachelor, Sim, to 
have a cut upon your finger, before you are marriedt 

Sim. I'll never draw sword again, to have such a 
jest put upon me. \ExeunU 



ACT V. 



SCENE I.— A Court of Justice. 
Enter Simonides and Courtiers, sword and mace 
carried before them, 
Sim. Be ready with your prisoner ; we'll sit in- 
stantly, 
And rise before eleven, or when we please; 
Shall we not, fellow-judges ? 

1 Court. 'Tis committed 

All to our power, censure, and pleasure, now; 
The duke hath made us chief lords of this sessions. 
And we may speak by fits, or sleep by turns. 

Sim. Leave that to us, but, whatsoe'er we do, 
The prisoner shall be sure to be condemned ; 
Sleeping or waking, we are resolved on that. 
Before we sit upon him ! 

2 Court. Make you question 

If not ? — Cleanthes ! and an* enemy ' 
Nay, a concealer of his father, too ! 
A vile example in these days of youth. 

Sim. If they were given to follow such examples; 
But sure I think they are not : howsoever, 
'Twas wickedly attempted, that's my judgment. 
And it shall pass whilst I am in power to sit. 
Never by prince were such young judges made, 
But now the cause requires it : if you mark it. 
He mu^^t make young or none ; for all the old ones 
He hath sent a fishing — and my father's one, 
I humbly thank his highness. 

Enter Eugenia. 

1 Court. Widow ! 

Eug. You almost hit my name now, gentlemen ; 
You come so wonderous near it, I admire you 
For your judgment. 

Sim. My wife that must be ! She. 

Eug. My husband goes upon his last hour now. 

1 Court. On his last legs, I am sure. 



• 2 Court. Make you queslion 
Jfnot ? Cleanthes ! and an enemy ! 
Kay, a concealer of his father, too.'] The old copy reads, 
Ulahe you question 
Jfnot Cleanthes and one enemy, 
which Coxeter printed, though he conjectured it should be. 
Make you question 
Jfnot Cleanthes is our enemy? 
while Mr. M. Maton griwily pronounces that, stand our 
i^eaiy is nearer tu the original I 



Eug. September the seventeenth — ■ 
I will not bate an hour on't, and to-morrow 
His latest hour's expired. 

2 Court. Bring him to judgment. 
The jury's panell'd, and the verdict given 
Ere he appears ; we have ta'en a course for that. 

Sim. And oflScers to attach the gray young man, 
The youth of fourscore : be of comfort, lady. 
You shall no longer bosom January ; 
For that I will take order, and provide 
For you a lusty April. 

Eug. The month that ought, indeed, 
To go before May. 

1 Court. Do as we have said. 
Take a strong guard, and bring him into court. 
Ladj"^ Eugenia, see this charge performed. 
That, having his life forfeited by the law. 
He may relieve his soul. 

Eug. Willingly. 
From shaven chins never came better justice 
Than these ne'er touch'd by razor*. [EiiU 

Sim. What you do, 
Do suddenly, we charge you, for we purpose 
To make but a" short sessions : — a new business ! 

Enter Hippolita. 

1 Court. The fair Hippolita I now what's your 
suit? 

Hip. Alas ! I know not how to style you yet ; 
To call you judges doth not suit your years. 
Nor heads and beardst show more antiquity ; — 
Yet sway yourselves with equity and truth. 
And I'll proclaim you reverend, and repeat 
Once in my lifetime I have seen grave heads 
Placed upon young men's shoulders. 



• From shaven chins never came better justice 
Tlian these ne'er touch'd by razor.] This is the conjec- 
tnral emendation of Mr. M. Mason: the old copy reads. 
Than these i:ew toucht by reason, which, thoufih not abso- 
lutely void of meaning, is so poor, in comparison of thg 
substitution in the text, that few doubts can remain as to the 
propriety of the exchanne. 
t 'J'o call you judges doth not suit your years. 

Nor heads and beards show more antiquity ;] Mr. M. 
Mason reads, 

7'o call you judges doth not suit your years, 
Nor heads ; and brains show more antiquity ; 
It is evident that he did not cmiprehend the sense, which, 
though ill conceived and harshly expressed, is, You liavenot 
the years of judges, nor do your heads and beards (old 
copy, brains) show moie of age. 



Scene I.] 



THE OLD LAW 



51? 



2 Court. Hark, she flouts us. 
And tljinks to make us monstrous. 

Hip. Prove not so ; 
Tor yet,*niettiinks, you bear the sliapes of men 
^Thou^li nothing- more thiin nurely beauty serves 
To make you appear angels), but if" you crimson 
Your iiiime and power witli lilood and cruelty, 
Suppress lair virtue, and enhirue bold vice*, 
Both against heaven and nature draw your sword, 
Make either will or humourturn the soul f 
Of vour created greatness, and in that 
Oppose ill! goodness, 1 miisi tell you there 
You are more than mnnstrous ; in the very act 
You change yourselves to devils. 

1 Court. She's a witch ; 
Hark : She begins to conjure. 

Sim. Titne, you see, 
Is short, much business now on foot : — shall I 
Give her her answer? 

2 Court. i\one upon the bench 
More learnedly can do it. 

Sim. lie, he, hem ! then list: 
I wonder at thine impudence, young; huswife. 
That thou darest plead for such a base offender. 
Conceal a father past his time to die ! 
What son and heir would have done this but be 1 

1 Coitit. I vow, not I. 

Hip. Because ve are parricides ; 
And how can comfort be derived from such 
That pity not their fathers'* 

2 Court. You are fiesh and fair ; practise young 
women's ends ; 

When husbands are distress'd, provide them friends. 

.Sim. I'll set him forward for thee without fee : 
Some wives would pay for such a courtesy. 

Hip. Times of amazement ! what duty, goodness 

dwell X 

I sought for charity, but knock at hell. [En't. 

Re-enter Eugenia, andGttard with Lysander. 

Sim. Eugenia, come ! command a second guard 
To bring Cleanthes in ; we'll not sit long ; 
My stomach strives to dinner^. 

Eug. Now, servants, may a lady be so bold 
To call your power so low ? 

Sim. A mistress may. 
She can make all things low ; then in that language 
There can be no oflence. 

Eug. The time's now come 
Of manumissions, take him into bonds, 
And I am then at freedom. 

2 Court. This the man ! 
He hath left off o'late to feed on snakes ; 
His beard's turn'd white agrain. 



• and enlari/e b"l<I vice,] Tlie 

quarto has, of old vice, of wliich the turmer editors have 
made old; but 1 know not in what sense vice could here be 
teiMK-d old. Tliis speech has sutTered both by alterations 
and interpolntions. I have thrown out the one, and re- 
formed the other. 

t turn the soul] So the old 

copy: Coxcter and Mr. M. Mastm read, turn the siale, 
which has neither the spirit nor the sense of tlie orii;inal. 
J Hip 'I'iwesof amazement. H'hat duty, goodness dwell 

' Mr. M. Mason takes this fur a complete sentence, 

and would re id, Jlhere do you goodness dwell ? In any 
case the alteration wonld be t .o violent; but none is needed 
here. Hippolila sees the woman whobetraycd her approach- 
ing, breaks off ht r intendnt speech with an indi'^nant ob- 
servation, and hastily retires Irom the court. 

^ Hty stomach strives to riinntr.] Tliis is sense, awi 
theiefore I have Oot tampered with it : but I suppose that 
the author wrote, My stomach strikes to dinner 



1 Court. Is't ])ossible these gouty legs danced 
lately. 

And shatter'd in a galliard? 

Eug. Jealousy 
And fear of death can work strange prodigies. 

2 Ci'urt. The nimble fencer this, that made me 
tear 

And traverse 'bout the chamber ? 

Sim. Ay, and gave me 
Those elbow healths, the hangman take him for't ! 
They'd almost fetch'd ray heart out : the Dutch 

what-you-call 
I swallow'd pretty well, but the half-pike 
Had almost pepper'd me ; but had 1 ta'en long- 

sworil. 
Being swollen, I had cast my lungs out. 

A Flourish. Enter Evandicr and Cratilus. 

1 Court. Peace, the duke ! 

Evan. Nay, back* t' your seats: who's that? 

2 Court. May't please your highness it is olti 
Lysander. 

Evan. And brought in by his wife ! a worthy 
precedent 
Of one that no way would offend the law, 
And should not pass away without remark. 
You have been look'd for long. 

Li/s. But never fit 
To die till now, my lord. My sin.s and I 
Have been but newly parted ; much ado 
1 had to get them leave me, or be taught 
i hat difficult lesson how to learn to die 
I never thought there had been such an act, . 
And 'tis the only discipline we are born for : 
All studies else are but as circular lines. 
And death the centre where they must all meet. 
I now can look upon thee, erring woman. 
And not be vex'd with jealousv ; on young men, 
And no way envy their delicious health, 
Pleasure, and strength ; all which were once mtna 

own. 
And mine must be theirs one day, 

Evan. You have tamed him. 

Sim. And know how to dispose him ; that, my 
liege. 
Hath been before determined. You confess 
Yourself of full age? 

Lys, Yes, and prepared to inherit 

Eug, Your place above. 

■Sim. Of which the hangman's strength 
Shall put him in possession. 

Lys. ' I'is still caredf 
To take me willing and in mind to die : 
And such are, when the earth grows weary of them, 
Most fit for heaven. 



* Evan. Nay, back t' your seats :] The old copy reads, 
JVay, bathe your seats, out of which Mr. M. Mason formed 
kgep ; Da\is, take ; and every one may make what he can. 
1 believe the young men were pressing forward to receive 
the duke, and that his exclamation was, as above, A'aj/.bdck 
t' your seatf. 

Coxeler has changed almost all the speakers in this scene; 
some of thein, indeed, were evidently wrong, but I can aee 
no reason for giving the duke's second speech to Simouides, 
as it is in perfect unison with his real character. 

t Lys. "I is still cared ' 

To take me willvig and in mind to die ; 

And such are, whin the earth grows ueary of them, 

Mo^T Jit for heaven.] Halfofiiiis speech Coxettr omits, 
and gives ilie other half, which in his edition has no genie, 
to Sinionides: it is needless to observe how ill it suits w.tn 
bis character. Mr. M. Mason follows him, as usual t 



5?0 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Act V 



[ Exit. 
[Exit. 



Sim. The court shall make his mittimus. 
And send him thither presently : i' the mean 

time 

Eifji. Away to death with him. 

[Exit Cratilus icith Lysander. 

Enter Gtiard wi'fA Cleantiies, Hippolita following, 
weeping. 

Sim. So ! see another person brought to the bar. 

1 Court. The arch-malefactor. 

2 Court, 'i'he grand offender, the most refractory 
To all good order ; 'tis Cleanthes, he— 

Sim. 'I'hut would liave sons grave fathers, ere 
their fiithers. 
Be sent unto their graves. 

Evan. There will be expectation 
In your severe proceedings against bim ; 
His act being so capital. 

Sim. Fearful and bloody ; 
Therefore we charge these vv'omen leave the court, 
Lest thev should swoon o ihear it. 

Eug. I, in expeciation 
Of a most happy freedom. 

Hip. I, wit!) the apprehension 
Of a most sad and desolate widowhood. 

1 Court. We bring him to the bar 

2 Court. Hold up your hand, sir. 

Clean. More reverence to the place than to the 
persons: 
To the one I offer up a [spreading*] palm 
Of dutv and obedience, as to heaven, 
Imploring justice, which was never wanting 
Upon that bench whilst their own fathers sat; 
But unto you, my hands contracted thus, 
As threatening vengeance against murderers, 
For they that kill in thought, shed innocent 

blood. 

With pardon of your highness, too much passion 
JTade me forget your presence, and the place 
I now am call'd to. 

Evan. All our majesty 
And power we have to pardon or condemn, 
Is now conferr'd on them. 

Sim. And these we'll use 
Little to thine advantage. 

Clean. I expect it : 
And, as to tiiese, I look no mercy from them, 
And much less meant to entreat it : I thus now 
Submit me to the emblems of your power, 
The sword and bench : but, my most reverend 

judges. 
Ere you proceed to sentence (for I know [thing? 
You have given me lost), will you resolve me one 

1 Court. So it be briefly question'd. 

S: Court. Show your honour ; 
Day spends itself apace. 

Clean. ]\Iy lords, it| shall. 
Resolve me, then, where are your filial tears, 



• To the one I offer up a [spreading] palm] I have in- 
serted spreading, not merely on account of its completing 
llie verse, but because it contrasts well with contracted. 
Whatever the author's word was, it was shuffled out of its 
place at the press, and appears as a misprint (showduj in 
llie succeeding line. 

+ And much less mean to entreat it :] For mean the old 
copy has shown, wliich is pure nonsense : it stands, however, 
in all the editions. I have, 1 beliivc, recovered the genuine 
text by adopiing mean, whicu was superfluously inserted in 
the line immediately below it. 

X Clean. My lords, it shall.'\ i. e. it shall be briefly ques- 
tioned. This would not have deserved a note had not Mr. 
M, Mason mistaken the meaning, and corrupted the text to 
AJv lords, I shall. 



Your mourning habits, and sad hearts become, 

That should attend your fathers' funerals? 

Though the strict law (which 1 will not accuse. 

Because a subject) snatch'd away their livflfe. 

It doth not bar you to lament their deaths: 

Or if you cannot spare one sad suspire, 

It doth not bid you laugh them to their graves. 

Lay subtle trains to antedate their yeais. 

To be the sooner seized of their estates. 

Oh, time of age ! w iiere's that .^t'neas now, 

Who letting all hisjewels to the flames; 

Forgetting country, kindred, treusure, friends. 

Fortunes and all things, save the name of son, 

Which you so much forget, godlike ^neas, 

Who took his bedrid father on his back. 

And with that sacred load (to him no burthen) 

Hew'd out his way through blood, through fre, 

through [arms*,] 
Even all the arm'd streets of bright-burning Troy, 
Only to save a father? 

Sim. We've no leisure now 
To hear lessons read from Virgil ; we are past 

school. 
And all this time thy judges. 

"2 Court. It is fit 
That we proceed to sentence. 

1 Court. You are the mouth, 
And now 'tis fit to open. 

Sim. Justice, indeed. 
Should ever be close-ear'd, and open-mouth 'd ; 
That is to hear a little, and speak much. 
Know then, Cleanthes, there is none can be 
A good son and bad subject ; for, if princes 
Be called thr people's fathers, then the subjects 
Are all his sjns, and he that flouts llie prince 
Doth disobey his father : there you are gone. 

1 Court. And not to be recover'd. 
Sim. And again — 

2 Court. If he be gone once, call him nnt again. 
Sim. I say again, this act of tljine expresses 

A double disobedience : as our princes 
Are fathers, so they are our sovereigns too, 
And he that doth rebel 'gainst sovereignty 
Doth commit treason in the height of degree : 
And now thou art quite gone. 

1 Court. Our brother in commission 
Hath spoke his mind both learnedly and neatly, 
And I can add but little ; howsoever. 
It shall send him packing. 
He that begins a fault that wants example, 
Ouoht to be made example for the fault. 

Clean. A fault I no longer can I hold mvself 
To hear vice upheld and virtue thrown down. 
A fault ! judge, I desire tlien, where it lies. 
In those that are my judges, or in me : 
Heaven stands on my side, pity, love, and duty. 

Sim. Where are they, sir? wlio sees them but 
yourself? 

Clean. Not you ; and I am sure 
You never had the gracious eyes to see them. 



• Hew'd out hi$ way through blood, through fire, through 
\arms,'\ 
Ellen all the arm'd streets of brightburniny Troy, 
Only to sai'e a father?] So the lines stand in the old 
copy, with the exception of the word enclosed in brackets 
for which I am answerable. They wanted but little rf^nla 
tion,aslhe leader sees; yet both the editors blundered tliem 
into downright prose. Coxeter, a circumstance by no meanj 
common with bim, gave an incorrect statement of the ori 
ginal, and Mr. M. Mason, who never looked beyond hit 
, page, was reduced to random guesses I 



Scene IT.] 



THE OLD LAW. 



521 



You think that you arraign me, but I hope 
To sentence you at the har. 

2 Court. That would show brave. 

Clean. This were the judgment-seat we [stand 
at] now* ! 
Of the heaviest crimes that ever made up [sin], 
L'nnaturalness, and inhumanit)', 
i'ou are found foul and guilty, by a jury 
Made of your fathers' curses, which have brought 
\'eni;eance impending on you ; and I now 
Am forced to pronounce judgment on my judges, 
riie common laws of reason and of nature 
Condemn you ipso facto ; you are parricuies, 
.And if you rtiarry, will beget the like, 
Who, when they are grown to full maturityf. 
Will hurry you their fathers, to their graves. 
f.ike traitors, vou take counsel from the living. 
Of upright judgment you would rob the bench 
:' Experience and discretion snatch'd away 
From the earth's face), turn all into disorder. 
Imprison virtue, and int'ranchise vice. 
And put the sword of justice in the hands 
Of boys and madmen. 

Him. Well, well, have you done, sir? 

Clean. I have spoke my thoughts. 

Sim. Then I'll begin and end. 

llvttii. 'lis time 1 now begin — 
Here \our commission ends. 
Cleaiitlies, come you from the bar. Because 
I laiou- you are severally disposed, I here 
Invite you to an object will, no doubt, 
Work in you contrary effects. iMusic! 

Loud Music- Enter Leonidc:s, Crion, Lvsander, 
ajid other old men. 

Cleon. Pray heaven, I dream not ! sure he moves, 
talks comfortably. 
As jov can wish a man. If he be changed 
(Far above from me), he's not ill entreated ; 
JJi^ fii<fe doth promise fulness of content, 
And glory hath a part in't. 
Leon. Oh my son ! 

Evan. You that can claim acquaintance with these 
lads. 
Talk freely. 

Sim. I can see none there that's worth 
One hand to you from me. 

F.ian. I'hese are thy judges, and by their grave 
law 
I find thee clear, but these delinquents guilty. 
You must change places, for Stis so decreed : 
Such just pre-eminence hath thy goodness gain'd, 
Thou art the judge now, they the men arrai^u'd. 

[To CUanthen, 

1 Court. Here's fine dancing, gentlemen. 

2 Court. Is thy father amongst them? 



* Clean. This were the judgment seat we [stand at] now. 
&C.] i. e. O.that tliis were, &c. But, indeed, this speech 
is fii siian^<tly piinltd in llic quarto, tliat it is almost impos- 
sible to j;iu-.'S what ihe wriler really meant. The first three 
lints slanil thus : 

Clean. This were the judyment scat, we now 

The heaviest crimes that ever made up 

i iinaturutlness in humanity. 
WlRilur tlie ucniiini'. "r, indeed, any sense be elicited by 
the adiliiiciiis «liich I have been compciled to make, is not 
mine to say; but cerlainly some allowance will be made 
for any temperate endeavour to re<^ulate a text, where the 
word>, in too many instances, appear as if they had been 
shooU lUtof Ihe printer's boxes by the hand olehance. 

+ Hko, when they :iiv yrown to Jul/ maturity,] Former 
editors have, Hho when you're : but this cannot be ri^ht. 



Sim. Oh, pox ! I saw him the first thing I 
look'd on. 
Alive again ! 'slight, 1 believe now a father 
Hath as many lives as a mother. 

Clean. 'Tis full as blessed as 'tis wonderful. 
Oh ! bring me back to the same law again, 
I am fouler than all these ; seize on me, officers, 
And brino- me to new sentence. 

Sim. What's all this ? 

Clfan. A fault not to be pardon'd, 
Uniiaiurahuss is but sin's shadow to it. 

Sim. I am glad of that ! I hope the case may alter, 
And turn judge again. 

Evan. Name your offence. 

Clean. That I should be so vile. 
As once to think you cruel. 

Euan. Is that all ? 
'Twas pardon'd ere confess'd : you that have sons. 
If they be worthy, here may challenge them. 

Creon. 1 should have one amongst them, had he 
had grace 
To have retained that name. 

Sim. I pray you, father. \_Kneeli. 

Creon. 'I'hat name, 1 know, 
Hath been long since I'oryot. 

Sim, I find but small comfort in remembering it 
now. 

Eraii. Cleantlies, take your place with these 
oiave fathers. 
And read what in that table is inscribed. 

[Gives liim a paper. 
Now set these at the bar. 
And read, Cleanthes, to the dread and terror 
Of disobedience and unnatural blood. 

Clean, [reads.] It is decreed fty the grave ami learned 
Cuiincil of Epire, that no son and heir sliall tie held 
capahle of his i)iheritauce at the age of one and tueiity, 
uidesshe he at t'liat lime as mature in obedience, munnert, 
and fioodness. 

Sim. Sure I shall never be at full age, then, 
though I live to an hundred years ; and that's nearer 
by twenty than the last statute allow'd. 

1 Court. A terrible act I 

Clean. Moreover, it is enacted that all sons aforesaid, 
whom either this laiv, or their own grace, shall reduce 
itito ihe true method of dut^^, virtue, and affection, [shall 
appear before vs\ and relate their trial* and approbation 
from Cleanthes, the son of Leonides — from me, my 
lord ! 

Evan. From none but you as fullest. Proceed, 
sir. 

Clean. Whom, for his manifest virtues, lue make 
such judge and censor of youih, and ihe absolute refer- 
ence of life and manners. 

Sim. J his is a brave world I When a man should 
be Selling land he must be learning manners. Is't 
not, my masters ? 

Reenter Eitgenia. 

Eug. What's here to do '. My suitors at the bar ' 
The old band shines againf : oh, miserable ! 

[She swoons. 

* [Shall appear before vs] and relate their trial, &c.] 
In tlie old copy, which the modern editions follow, and re- 
late comes immediately alter virtue and aHection. That this 
cannot be right is evident : wliellier the words whicli I have 
inserted convey the author's meaning, or not, may be 
doubled, but they make some sense of the passage, and this 
is all to which ihcy pretend. 

+ The old hand shim's atjain ;] Coxeter printed, The old 
bard shines aijain ; Mr. M. Ma.'on, \> ho coidd make nothing 
of tills, proposes, as the genuine reading, Tire old revivea 



622 



THE OLD LAW. 



[Act V. 



Eiini. Read tlie law over to lier,. 'twill awake her: 
'Tis (ine deserves small pitv. 

Clea'i. Lastly, it 's niilniued, that all surh ivhes 
now iihiitsoerer, thntshiill deiign their husbands' death, 
to he inon rid of them, and eiiierlain suitors 171 iheir 
husbands' lifetime — 

Sim Yoii had best read that a little louder ; for, 
if !inv tiling-, that will bnn<j her lo herself again, 
and find her tongue. 

(Jlean. Shall not presume, on the penalty of our 
heai'ii diyjtleuiure, to mnrrti loithin ten years after. 

Eug. The law is too long- by nine years and a half, 
I'll take mv death npon't ; so shall most women. 

Clean. Atid those incnniinent womin so offending, to 
he judged and censured by liippolila, icife to Cleanthes. 

Bug. Of all the rest, I'll not be judged by her. 

Re-enter Hippolita. 

Clfan. Ah ! here she comes. Let me prevent thy 
Prevent them but in part, and hide the rest ; [joys, 
Thou hast not strength enough to bear them, else. 

Hip. Leonides 1 " [She faints. 

Clean. 1 fear'd it all this while ; 
I knew 'twas past thy power. Hippolita! 
What contrariety is in women's blood ! 
One faints for spleen and anger, she for grace. 

Evan Of sons and wives we seethe worst and best. 
Mav future ages yield Hi;)))olitas 
Wany ; but few like thee, Eugenia! 
Let no Simonides henceforth have a fame, [within. 
But all blest sons live in Cleanthes' name — [Music 
ILi ! what strange kind of melody was that ? 
Yet give it entrance, whatsoe'er it be, 
'1 his day is all devote to liberty*. 
Enter Fiddlers, Gnotiio, Courtezan, Cook, Butler> 

&!C.. irilh the old Women, Agatha, and one bearing 

a bridecake for the wedding. 

Gnoth. Fiddlers, crowd on, crowd onf ; let no 
man lay a block in your way. — Crowd on, I say. 

again; while Mr. Dnvies, with ilue solemnity, declares 
that the Inscrlion of a Itlttr will make all lit;''', and that it 
slioiild be. The old beaid shintsayain. Nothing c;iii be 
more preposterous than the conduct ol lhe?e gtnlleineii, in 
thus presiiniiii^ to correct MasS'inger, upon tlie authority of 
Coxeler. The ol:l copy neither le.ids i«7-d nor beard, hwi 
baud, a misprint, perhaps, for band. In the last scene of 
'J'he Fatal Dowry, by a similar oversight, band is printed 
for baud. 

' It is to be lamented that The Old Law did not end 
here : the higher characters are all disposed qf, and the 
clown and his fellows might have been silently sunk on the 
reader without exciting the slightest regret. But tlie 
yroundHnys i>r those ilays, like the godlings of the present, 
"ere too aiit to cry out with Christopher Sly, When does 
thefiinl come again, 'Sitn ? and, untoitiinately, they have had 
but too iiinch influence, at all times, over the managers. 

What follows is utterly unworthy of Massinger (indeed, it 
was not written by him) and may be past over without loss ; 
of all peilne's, ihatof folly is the most tiresome, and here is 
little el.*e ; but the audience were to be dismissed in good 
humour, and they undoubtedly walked home as merry as 
noise and nonsense could make them. 

It appears from ihe title-page of the quarto, that The Old 
Law was a favourite with all ranks of people, and not, in- 
deed, without s(mie degree of justice; for the plot, though 
higlily improbable, is an inlerestinif one, and conducted 
with singular artifice, to a pleasing and surprising end. It 
must bt allowed, however, that the moral justice of the 
piece is iiol allog-ther w hat it should be ; for though Clean- 
thes and Hippolita receive the full reward of Iheir filial 
piety, set ■Simonide-' and Eugenia do not meet a punish- 
nieni adequate to iheir unnatural conduct. As a composi- 
tion, this play has several charming scenes, and not a few 
passages of e.squisile beauty : it once, perhaps, had more, 
but tlie transcriber and the printer have conspired to reduce 
them. 

♦ Clown. Fidd/i'rs, crojcd on, croud on ;] Mr. M. Mason 
observes, that a fiddle was formerly called a crowd. Why 



Evan. Slav the crowd awhile ; let's know the 
reason of this jollity. 

Clean. Sirrah, do vou know where you are? 

Gnoth, Yes, sir ; I am here, now here, and now 
here again, sir. 

Liys. Your liat is too high crown'd, the duke in 
presence. 

Gnolh. The duke ! as he is my sovereign, 1 do 
give him two crowns for it*, and that's equal 
change all the world over: as I am loi:d of the day 
(being my marriage-day the second) I do advaiice 
my bonnet. Oowd on' afore. 

Leon. Good ;^ir, a few words, if you will vouch- 
safe them ; 
Or will you be forced? 

Gnoth. Forced ! 1 would the duke himself would 
say so. 

Evan. I think he dares, sir, and does ; if you 
stay not, 
You shall be forced. 

Gnolh. 1 think so, my lord, and good reason 
too ; shall not 1 stay when your grace says 1 slsall ? 
I were unworthy to be a bridegroom in any jnirt of 
your highness 's dominions, then : will it jilease you 
to Taste ol' the wedlock-courtesy ? 

Evan. Oh, by no means, sir ; you sliall not de- 
face so fair an ornament for me. 

Gnoth. If your grace please to be cakated, say 
so. 

Euan, And which might be your fair bride, sir ? 

Gnoth, This is my two for one that must he the 
UTor uxoris, the remedy doloris, and the very sticeum 
amoris. 

Evan. And hast thou any else? 

Gnoth. I have an older, my lord, for other uses 

Clean. My lord, 
I do observe a strange decorum here : 
These that do Jead this day of jollity. 
Do march with music and most miriliFul checks: 
Those that do follow, sad, and woefully. 
Nearer the haviour of a funeral 
Than of a wedding. 

Evan, 'lis true; pray ex])ound that, sir. 

Gnoth. As the destiny of the day falls out, my 
lord, one goes to wedding, another goes to hang- 
ing : and your grace in ihe due consideration shall, 
find them much alike ; the one halh the ring upon 
her finger, the other the halter about her neck I 
take thee, Beatrice, says the bridegrofim ; I take thee, 
Agatha, says the hangman ; and both say together, 
to have and to hold, tiirdeath do part us. 

Evan. This is not yet jdain enough lo my under- 
standing. 

Gnolh. If further your griice examine it, you 
shall find 1 show myself a dutiful subject, and obe- 
dient to thelaw, myself, with these my good friends, 
and your good subjects, our old wives, whose days 
are ripe, and their lives forfeit to the law : only 
myself', more forward than the rest, am already pro- 
vided of my second choice. 



formerly? Is it not still called so in almost every part of 
the kingdom? But he was ambitious of following ttie 
learned commcniatias On other dramatic writers, wlio gravely 
tell us ih^it words, which are in every one's mouth, once 
signified such and such things in Cornwall, perhaps, or North- 
uinherland! 

* Gnolli. The duke f as he i.<) my sovereign. / do t/ii-e him 
two crowns /or it, &c.] Here is soire p.ior pun. A sove- 
reign was a gold coin woiih /en shillings ; or, is ihe wit in 
some fancied similariiy of sound between duke iind riucat (a 
piece of the same value as the other) i pudet, pudet. 



Scene II.] 



THE OLD LAW. 



^23 



Evan. Oh ! take beed, sir, you'll run yourself 
into dansjer ; 
If the law finds vou wiih two wives at once, 
There's a shrewd premunire. 

Gnoth. I have taken leave of tlie old, my lord. I 
have notlnng- to say to her ; she's goinw to sea, 
your grace Knows vvhiiher, better than 1 do : she 
has a strong wind with her, it stands full in her 
poop ; when you please, let her disembogue. 

Cook. And the rest of her neighbours with her, 
whom we present to the satisfaciion of your high- 
ness' law. 

Gnoth. And so we take our leaves, and leave 
them to your highness. — Crowd on. 

Evan. Stay, stav, you are too forward. Will you 
marry, 
And your wife yet living? 

Gnoth. Alas! she'll be dead before ■ we can get 
to chureh. If your grace would set her in the wav, 
I would dispatcli her : I have a venture on't, 
which would return me, if your highness would 
make a little more haste, two for one. 

Evan. Come, my lords, we must sit again ; here's 
a case 
Craves a most serious censure. 

Cook. Now they shall be dispatch 'd out of the 

way. 
Gnoth. I would they were gone once ; the time 

goes away. 
Evan. Which is the wife unto the forward bride- 
groom^ 
^"(j. I am, an it please your grace. 
• Evan. Trust me, a lusty woman, able-bodied, 
And well-blooded cheeks. 

Gnoth, Oh, she paints, my lord ; she was a cham- 
bermaid once, and learn 'd it of her lady. 
Evan. Sure I think she cannot be so old. 
Aga. Truly I think so too,an't please your grace. 
Gnoih. Two to one with your grace of that ! 
she's threescore by the book. 

Leon. Peace, sirrah, you are too loud. 
Cook. 'I'ake heed, Gnotho : if you move the 
duke's patience, 'tis an edge-tool ; but a word and a 
blow, he cuts oft" your head. 

Gnoth, Cut off my head ! away, ignorant ! he 
knows it cost more in the hair ; he does not use to 
cut oft' many such heads as mine ; I will talk to him 
too ; if he cut ofi" my head, I'll give him my ears. 
I say my wife is at full age for the law, the clerk 
shall take his oath, and the church-book shall be 
sworn too. 

Evan. My lords, I leave this censure to you. 
Leon. 1 hen first, this fellow does deserve punish- 
ment, 
For oflTering up a lusty able woman. 
Which may do service to the commonwealth. 
Where the law craves one impotent and useless. 

Creon. Therefore to be severely punished 
For thus attempting a second marriage, 
His wife yet living. 

Lys. iMay, to have it trebled ; 
That even the day and instant when he should 

nn'Urn 
As a kind husband, at her funeral, 
He leads a triumph to the scorn of it ; 
Which unseasonable joy ought to be punish'd 
With all severity. 

But. The fiddles will be in a foul case too by and 

''>■• 
Leon. Nay, further ; it seems he has a venture 



Of two for one at his second mairiage. 
Which cannot be but a conspiracy 
Against the former. 

Gnoth. A mess of wise old men ! 
Lijs. Sirrah, what can you answer to all these ! 
Gnoth. Ye are good old men, and talk as age will 
give you leave. 1 would speak with the youthful 
duke himself; he and 1 may speak of things that 
shall be thirty or forty years after you are dead and 
rotten. Alas ! you are here to day, and gone to sea 
to-morrow. 

Evan. In troth, sir, then I must be plain with you. 
The law that should take away your old wife from 

you, 
The which I do perceive was your desire, 
Is vdid and frustrate ; so for the rest : 
There lias been since another parliament 
H:is cut it ofl^. 

Gnoth. I see your grace is disposed to be pleasant. 
Evan. Yes, you might perceive that ; I had not 
else 
Thus dallied with your follies. 

Gnoth. I'll talk' further with your grace when I 
come back from church ; in the mean time you 
know what to do with the old women. 

Evan. Stay, sir, unless in the mean time you 
mean 
I cause a gibbet to be set up in your way. 
And hang you at your return. 
Aga. O gracious prince ! 

Evan. Your old wives cannot die to-day by any 
law of mine : for aut,ht I can say to them, 
They may, by a new edict, bury you, 
And then, perhaps, you'll pay a new fine too. 
Gnoth. Tliis is fine, indeed ! 
Aga. O gracious prince ! may he live a hundred 

years more. 
Cook. Your venture is not like to come in to-day, 
Gnotho. 

Gnoth. Give me the principal back. 
Cook. Nay, by my troth we'll venture still — and 
I'm sure we liave as ill a venture of it as you ; for 
we have taken old wives of purpose, that we had 
thought to have put away at this market, and now 
we cannot utter a pennyworth. 

Evan. Well, sirrah, you were best to discharge 
your new charge, and take your old one to you. 
Gnoth. Oh music, no music, but prove most dole- 
ful trumpet ; 
Oh bride ! no bride, but thou may st prove a strumpet ; 
Oh venture ! no venture, I have, for one, now 

none ; 
Oh wife ! thy life is saved when I hoped it had 

been gone. 
Case up your fruitless strings ; no penny, no wed- 
ding; 
Case up thy maidenhead ; no priest, no bedding* 
A vaunt, my venture ! ne'er to be restored, 
Till Ag, my old wife, be thrown overboard : 
Then come again, old Ag, since it must be so ; 
Let bride and venture with woful music go. 
Cook. What for the bridecake, Gnotho? 
Gnoth. Let it be mouldy now 'tis out of season^ 
Let it grow out of date, currant, and reason ; 
Let it be chipt and chopt, and given to chickens 
No more is got by that, than William Dickins 
Got by his wooden dishes. 
Put up your plums, as fiddlers put up pipes, 
The we'dding dash'd, the briilegroom weeps and 
wipes. 



t14 



THE OLD LAW. 



lAerV 



Fiddler.*, farewell! and now, without pprlia])s, 
Put up voiir fiddles as you put up scrajis. 

Liis- 1 liis passion* lias giPen some satisfaction 
yet. A]y lord, I think you'll jiardon him now, 
with all the rest, so they live honestly with the 
wives tliev liave. 

Emui. Oh! most freely ; free pardon to all. 

Conk. Av, we have deserved our pardons, if we 
can live honestly with such reverend wives, that 
have no inoiion in them but their tonp;ues. 

Agn. Heaven bless your grace! vou are a just 
pririoe. 

Giicth. All hopes dash 'd ; the clerk's duties lost ; 
My venture gone ; my second wife itivoiced ; 
And v.hich is worst, the old one come back again ! 
Sucli vovaoes are made now-a-davs ! 
Besides iliese two fountains of fresh wnter. I will 
weep two salt out of my nose. Your >>race had been 
more kind to your young- subjects — heaven bless and 
mend your laws, that they do not gull your [loor 
countrvnien : but I am not the first, by forty, that 
has beeii undone by the law. 'Tis but a folly to 
stand upon terms; I take my leave of ynuf grace, 
as well as mine eyes will give me leave: I would 
they had been asleep in their beds n'hen they opened 
them to see this day. Come Ag, come Ag. 

[E.ieu;if Giiotho and Agatha. 

Creon. Were not you all my servants'! 

Cook. During your life, as vi-e thought, sir; but 
our young master turn'd us away. 

Creon. How headlong, villain, wert thou in thy 
ruin ! 

Sim. I followed the fashion, sir, as other young 
men did. If you were as we thought you had been, 
we should ne'er have come for this, 1 warrant you. 
We did not feed, after the old fashion, on beef and 
mutton, and such like. 

Creon. Well, wiiat damage or ciiarge you have run 
yourselves into by marriage, I cannot help, nor de- 
liver you from your wives ; them you must keep ; 
yourselves shall again return to me. 

ALL We thank your lordship for your love, and 
must thank ourselves for our bad bargains. 

[^Exennt. 

Evini. Cleanthes, you delay the power of law, 
'J'o be inflicted on riiese misgovern'd men. 
That filial duty have so far transgress'd. 

Clean. iMy lord, I see a satisfaction 
Meeting the sentence, even preventing it, 
Beating my words back in their utterance. 
See, sir, there's salt sorrow bringing forth fresh 
"And new duiies, as the sea propagates. 

The e!ei)hants have found their joints too 

[They kneel. 
Why, here's humility able to bind up 
'I'he punishini;- hands of the severest masters, 
Much more the gentle fathers'. 

Sim. 1 had ne'er thought to have been brought so 
low as my knees again ; but since there's no remedy, 
fathers, reverend fathers, as you ever hope to have 
good sons and heirs, a handful of pity ! we confess 
we have deserved more than we are willing to re- 
ceive at your hands, though sons can never deserve 



• Lys. This passion has given xome satisfaction yet?] 
i.o this pailielic exclamation: it is paroiheil in pait from 
'J'he Spanish Tragedy, and is, without all question, by far 
tilt ttnpiiksl attempt at \\\\ to vhidi tliat pi rstcnied I'lay 
ever !;a\e rise. I'lial it aliorded some satisfaction to Lys.Jii- 
der ouulil, in courte>y, to be attributed to his having more 
.>>.d nature Ihaii l-jste. 



too much of their fathers, as shall appear after* 
V ards. 

Cieon. And wliat way can you decline youi 
feeding now ? 
Ynu ciinnot retire to beeves and muttons, sure. 

Sim. Alas ! sir, you see a good yiattern for that, 
now we have laid by our high and lusty meats, and 
are down to our marrowbones already. 

Cieon. Well, sir, rise tj virtues: we'll bin J you 
now ; ['i'hey rise, 

Vou that were loo weak yourselves to govern. 
By others shall be govern 'd. 

Lys. Cleanthes, 
I meet your justice with reconcilement; 
If there be tears of faith in woman's breast, 
1 have received a myriad, which confirms me 
'I'o find a happy renovation. 

Clean. Here's virtue's throne. 
Which I'll embellish with my dearest jewels 
Of love and faith, peace and aflection ! 
This is the altar of mv sacrifice, 
W here daily my devoted knees shall bend. 
Age-honoured shrine ! lime still so love you. 
That i so long may have you in mine eye 
Until my memory lose your beginning ! 
For you, great prince, long may your fame survive. 
Your justice and your wisdom never die. 
Crown of your crown, the bk.'ising of your land. 
Which yoti reach to her from yi,ur regent hand ! 

Leon. O Cleanthes, had you with us tasted 
The entertainment of our retirement, 
Fear'd and exclaiin'd on in your ignorance, 
You might have sooner died upon the wonder. 
Than any rage or jiassion for our loss. 
A place at hand we were all strangers in, 
So s[ihered about with music, such delights, 
Such viands and attendance, and once a day 
So cheered with a royal visitant, 
That oft times, waking, our unsteady fancies 
Would question whether we yet lived or no, 
Or had possession of that paradise 
Where angels be the guard ! 

Evan. Enough, Leonides, 
You go beyond the praise ; we have our end. 
And all is ended well : we have now seen 
J'he flowers and weeds that grow about our court. 

Sim. If these be weeds, I'm afraid 1 shall wear 
none so good again as long as my father lives. 

Evan. Only this gentleman we did abuse 
With our own bosom: we seem'd a tyrant. 
And he our instrument. Look, 'tis Craiilus, 

[^Discovers Craiilus, 
The man that you supposed had now been tra- 

velrd ; 
Which we gave leave to learn to speak. 
And bring us foreign languages to CireeCe. 
All's joy, I see ; let music be the crown 
And set it high, " The good needs fear n:o law, 
It is his safety, and the bad man's awe." 

[Flourish. Exeunt. 

* It must be unacceptable both to the reader and to myself 
to enter into any examination of this unfortunate comedy. 
The purpose which it piofesses is sntficiently good; but we 
lose sii;lit of it in the meanness and extravagmce vvliich disfi- 
gure tiie subject. Yet it is impossible not to be touched by 
occasional passages, which, in tenderness and beauty, are 
hardly excelled by any of .Massiuger. They are i ither de- 
scriptive or senlimental, and are rather excrescences liom the 
story than essential parts of it ; and, on this account they may 
be easily detached, and lemembered, for their own exce-l- 
lence,\\hen the plaic in \\hicli tliey «ere found is deservedly 
foiwotlen. Pel haps thej derive a grace from their ver silua 



THE OLD LAW. 



525 



tion; — tliey are " precious jewels" in the "head" of ugli- 
ness. Any attempt to ascertain tlie portions contributed by 
Middleton or Rowley, word<l be but loss of labour. The rug- 
gedness of the versification, and the obscurity of so many of 
the thoughts, laboured in their expression, and trivial in their 
meaning, prove that a great part of the play came from some 
other than Massinger. Nor could the lighter scenes, il the 
awkward uiovements of P.Ith and dulness may claim that 
name, have been furnished by him. His manner is chiefly 
to be perceived in the second scene of the fourth act, and 
whsre Cleanthes and Leonides fondly expatiate on the hap- 
piness of their contrivance, at the very moment when their 
security is about to be interrupted. 

Btit the reader shall be no longer detained on so question- 
able a compositi<m as The Old Law. He may be better 
pleased with a few observations arising from a general view 
of the Plays of Massinger, and altording some illustration, 
however imperfect, of his talents and cliaracter. 

It is truly surprising that tlie genius which produced these 
Plays should have obtained so little notice from the world. It 
does not appear that in any age since his own Massinger has" 
been ranked among the principal writers for the stage. Rarely 
have any of lii.s pieces been acted; and dramatic crifici.-ni 
has been unwilling to mention his name. It has attributed 
variety and greatness of character to Shakspeare and Flefchcr, 
KS if iMassingcr had never existed, or were entitled to none of 
this praise. It has objected to the clenches and bombast 
which disfiiiure the scnes of our great bard, as if it were no 
credit to Massinger that he has little of the ime and less of 
the other; and it has lamented the too close and laboured 
language of Jonson, without observing that the language of 
-Massinger is som< of the most chaste and flowing whicli the 
English stage ca' boast. — One of his characteristic qualities is 
his Style; and, on this account, he is entitled to a portionof 
the praise which has followed the names of Beaumont and 
Fletcher. It is obvious, that he seldom, if ever, approaches 
the harsh compactness of Jonson ; and lie is free from certain 
peculiarities which too often cloud the poetry of Shakspeare. 
The construction of his sentences i* direct and uninvolved, 
even in the most solemn and passionate of his scenes; and 
rarely does he seek for uncommon meanings by forcing his 
words upwards to their original sources. He isc(mtent with 
their usual acceptation, and docs not attempt to heighten 
poetic ettect either by inversion or a strange use of current 
ttrms. The faults into which he occasionally falls are his 
own, and arise from the ease which generally distingnithes 
him. He frequently ends a line with an unimportant woid, 
teiving only as a passage to the next line; and sometimes 
two following lines are hurried on in the same inconsiderate 
manner: sometimes he raises a jingle by throwing into the 
Siiine line two words of somewhat similar sound, but of dif- 
ferent meaning: now and then too lie rliyines in the middle 
of a speech. These are blemishes; but they grow from the 
very freedom of his poetry, and show his habitual ease through 
the accidental carelessness which they betray: nor can it be 
denied that in general he is entitled to our sincere admira- 
tion fur the purity and sifuplicity of his lansiuage, the free 
structure of liis lines, and the natural flow and unattectcd har- 
mony of his periods. It is observable that Mr. Hume regrets 
the watit of " purity and simplicity of diction," qualities 
which he cannot discover in Shakspeare. He might have 
praised them in Massinger ; but he must have been a stranger 
to these I'lays, and attbrds one instance more of the unde- 
served neglect which has hitherto been their portion. 

Another of the peculiarities of Massinger arises from the 
nianagemcnt of his Plot. The reader must have observed, 
in too many instances, with what rapidity the story is carried 
on, with what neglect of time and place, and, not unfrequently, 
of charactir itself. This indeed was not unusual with other 
writers of that age. What distinguishes Massinger, is his care- 
fulness of memory amidst his neglect of probability. He does 
not fall into hurry of scene through inadvertence. He draws 
a plan of his irregularities before he enters upon the execution 
of them. This appears from the caution with which tliey are 
introduced ; for some of the strangest incidents wliicli are to 
befal his characters are pointed out by early strokes and stu- 
dif d intimations. Tlioiightlessness as to the conclusion of his 
story docs lujt therefore apply to him, as it does to oihers. 
He looks forward to the frequent change of his business, and 
is satisfied. He is rapid by " advice," and unites, in a greater 
degree tlian almost any other writer, precipitation with pre- 
caution : 

insanit rerta rationf j modnque. 

Among the writers of that age, Jonson alone, perhaps, knew 
all the impropriety arising from a frequent and violent change 
ot scene. This sense of exactness was donbiji ss impressed 
nyxiri liiin by his love of the ancients: anri he has obtained 
t;;^ 'iifRcult praise both of copiousness and close connexion 
W iiii incidents. Yet Jonson himself, who blamed Sliak- 



speaie's change of scene, was not wholly! ee from the same 
practiet: and this has been remarked by )rydcn with some 
appearance of triumph. Whatever ndght Have been the sen- 
timents of Massinger, his general practice was a disregard of 
consistency of plan; and his striking propensity to hurry of 
scene is, perhaps, to he considered as a principal cause of his 
comparative want of success, when he undertakes the higher 
and more regular subjects of history. Eitiier he seems con- 
strained by the new restrictions to which he occasionally sub- 
mits; or, tired of these, he suddenly falls ir.to liberties which 
ill accord with the gravity of his first design. Sometimes he 
lessens the eftect of history by a choice not sufliciently saga- 
cious or comprehensive; and sometimes he interrupts its in- 
fluence by additi(ms extraneous to the subject, or unimportant 
in themselves. He is then most successful w hen he approaches 
the scenes of invention Under cover of some previiuis truth; 
w^heu he glances at some known event, and presently resigns 
himself to the aciustonud license of romance. How extra- 
vagant is the mixture of table with fact in several of these 
plays, tlie reader must have already observed. But if he feels 
with me, he will derive a pleasure from the detection of some 
circumstance of truth amid the mass of invention, and wyi 
hail the "sacred influence" of historic light, w hich sometimes — 

" Shoots far into the bosom of dim night 
A glimmi ring dawn." 

The Learning of Massinger here suggests itself. It seems 
to have been not without respectability ; yet ratherornamental 
to his poetry than very solid or very comprehensive. It was 
such, perhaps, as Jonson might have sneered at, but with some 
injustice. Apart from his treatment of history, which has been 
just noticed, it chiefly consists in an acquaintance with the 
moralists and poets, and shows itself in an occasional intro- 
duction of some ancient maxim resulting from the observation 
of common life ; or of some pretty image or tender sentiment 
transplanted into his love scenes. Not unfrequently, indeed, 
a classicalthought is discoverable in him, not formally applied, 
but incorporated with his own sentiment, as if the recollection 
of an ancient writer were familiar and habitual with him ; and, 
in an instance or two, this is done with some ruggedncss, as if 
he had no objection to make a momentary experiment on 
what was the general character of Jonson. His favourite 
book is Ovid; and his chief display is of the common and 
popular mythology. Of this, indeed, he is by far too fond. 
Sometimes he indulges it against probability, in scenes from 
which the ignorance and vulgarity of the speakers ought to 
have excluded it ; and sometimes against propriety, when the 
solemnity of the business, and the engagement of the attention 
of his personages, ought to have been secured from such un- 
seasonable interruption. He is also apt, on some of these 
untoward occasions, to state his mythological tale too circum- 
stantially, and to adapt it, point by point, totlie situation which 
he means to illustrate. He is minutely exact in appljing 
what should have been conveyed, if conveyed at all, by a 
general glance : and while he pleases himself with the scrc- 
pulous fidelity of his particulars, the reader is more and more 
impatient at too long a detention from the proper business of 
the stage. There is, indeed, anotlier kind of reading which 
is peculiar to himself, and claims a separate notice. It is 
impossible not to observe how zealous he is on religious sub- 
jects, how conversant with the images and sentiments which 
occur in the history of the early persecutions, and how ready 
in tlie use of ecclesiastical terms and arguments. He seems 
to dwell with fondness on conversions to the faith ; indulges 
with fervour the mode of reasoning which had been used 
between the early Christians and the Pagans, and is so im- 
pressed with it that he employs the same train of thought for 
the persuasion of Mahometans and idolaters. Wliere he ob- 
tained this knowledge, it is difficult to say. The reader must 
determine whether he is likely to have drawn it from the 
sources pointed out in the observations on The Viryin Martyr, 
or in those on The lieneyado : from the general appearance 
of his learning, I have no objection to the opinion that he was 
acquainted with the works of the Christian writers themselves. 
One thing is very observable in him. When he describes the 
ceremonies of religion as they are practised in tlie-clairch of 
Rome, it is with an earnestness and a reverence more than 
suHicient for the support of the character that speaks. Of this 
The liimegado •A\ontt furnishes several instances; and not only 
is he anxious to procure from any hand the right of ba|)fism 
for the new convert (Donnsa) about to sutler death ; but, a 
doubt being raised for the sake of an authoritative decision, 
the question of I.iy baptism is familiarly settled upon llomau 
Catholic principles — 

" A question in itself willi much ease answered: 
IMidwives, upon necessity, perform it; 
And kiiiulits that, in ll.e Hi^ly Land, fought for 
The freedom of Jerusalem, wlien full 
Of sweat and cncniies' blood, have made their helmet 



.526 



THE OLD LAW. 



The fount out of wliich, with their holy hands. 
They drew that heavenly liquor," &c'. 

One circumstance, liowever, seems to have escaped his 
•ttenlion, wliich the history of Cliristian antiquity would have 
aftbrded him. In cases ot extremity, when the rage of per- 
secution would not allow the consolation of religious rites, tlie 
death itsilf of tlie sulVerer was supposed by some to convey 
the desired benedt, and the blood of the niartj r was the salu- 
tary water of baptism. But I will add no more on this sub- 
ject. The learning of Massinger appears, in this view of it, 
to have some connexion with his religion. Indeed, the 
sources from wiiich his plots were derived might have fur- 
nished some of the circumstances' just noticed : but if they 
are his ovvn, they are sutlicient to raise a suspicion that he 
had a secret attachment to the church of Rome: and this 
seems to be the more probable opinion. 

The Morals of Massinger shall next be noticed. It may 
seem surprising that the licentiousness which too frequently 
appears in these Plays, should be accompanied with any ex- 
pressions of regard for morality. However, we must remember 
the times in whic h he wrote, and make allowance for the 
influence which the general state of society will always have 
on compositions for the stage. The comparative grostness of 
fommon conversation, the rude manner in whii h theatrica'. 
business was conilucted, the wish of giving as strong an effect 
as possible to the character represented, and a taste as yet 
imperfectly formed for the management of delicate situations, 
and the expression of wrong desires; these and many other 
causes must have been very unfriendly to the purity which 
virtue demands. In these particulars Massinger was uidiappy 
with other writers. Indeed no situation in lite was a siifticient 
security for theatrical decorum ; and Beaumont and Fletcher, 
one the son of a judge, the other of a bishop, are still more 
licentious than Massinger, without the consoling attention to 
moral consequences which he discovers. 

In the observations on several of these Plays, the reader will 
have noticed the seriousness of the moral arising from the 
conclusion of the story : and in justice to Massinger it must 
be added, that, however blameable he is for the admission of 
any indecency of others into a work ovei which he had a 
coutr<]l, the most ottcnsive parts are not his own. The licen- 
tiousness for wliich he isi personally answerable, is of two 
sorts— one, the chief part, consists in the incidents of the story 
itself: the other, in loose conversation not strictly subservient 
to the plot, but rather gratuitously indulged. It is wiih much 
salist'.K lion we observe, that the indelicacy in the fnrintr case 
is in some measure atone<l for by the meiited punishment to 
whiih he commonly conducts the otlenders; and lest his de- 
sign si M W nn-nuderslrtod, he earnestly reminds us, that, 

iii'.l\viil:.-!.iudiiig the grossness of the story, he still means to 
serve the c.iuse of virtue, and that wickedness is sure to be 
'• mulcted" by him "in the conclusion." The Parliavieni of 
Loee, wliere this caution occurs, is a convincing instance of 
the prictiie just noliied, as it combines licentiousness of in- 
cidi nt \vitli ehir.icteristic punishment on the contrivers of 
the mischief. For the other part no excuse can or ought to 
be olfired. There is only one consolation under it: happily, 
his loo-e dialngue is ill managed. It is without spirit or at- 
traciioi), as if his mind had no natural inclination to it; and 
tlie reader must be of a disposition decidedly prurient who 
wili turn to those scenes a second time. One praise remains 
for Ma-siii^er, and I mention it with heartfelt satisfaction; 
he is euiirely vvithout profaneness. How is it to be wished 
that Shakspeaie had bein thus! and that the extraordinary 
power w ith which he impresses both good and evil sentiment 
had never beeneni|)loyed in loosening the reverence of sacred 
principles in the mind of the young and inexperienced reader, 
or in teaching other men of genius to recommend the most 
perniciijns levity through the attractions of their will 

The Political Character of Massinger is very creditable 
to him. His allusions to the public events of the limes are 
not unfrequent; and they are such as to show him a man of 
honesty and spirit. He ridicules, with successful humour, the 
weak and licentious fops who iufested the court. He indig- 
nantly exposes the system of favouritism, which was so in- 
jurious to«the country in the reign of James, and lashes the 
easy or corrupt ssraiit of monopolies with the honest views of 
a patriot In return, he takes a pleasure in contrasting the 
loyalty of the true friends of the throne with the interested 
services of common courtiers. He also endeavours to correct 
the profligate taeilily with which a personal devotion was 
pledged to the sovereign, and glances at the thoughtless or 
fallacious oilers of "lives and fortunes." The dreadful events 
which took place not long alter the expression of these sen- 
timents throw an unusual inteicst over them ; and we are 

• The reader may compare this with the pious office which 
Tasso makes Tan c red perform to Clorinda: 

Poco quindi Ionian ncl sen del monte, &c. 

Canto 12 St. 67. 



persuaded hy his personal satire, as well as by tlie open 
praises whic h In bestows on his country", how striuii; and 
sincere was the patrioti>iii of Massinger. .It is ohstivable 
too, that he does not bend to the slavish doctrine wliiili wis 
inculcated by so many '■ther writers of the age; bin, ulnle' 
he pri-ferves a hrm and substantial reverence to the tliioiie, 
he watches over the actiou-i of the sovereign, and distiiiguii-lies 
between his just aiithoi ily and the arbitrary excesses oi it. 
One circumstance more. Ma-singer lived for the mo t part 
in poverty and neglect ; and it is highly honourable to him 
that there are no traces of public spleen or faction in Ilia 
writings. He is always a good subject ; and if he repn liends 
the follies or the vices wliirh stood too near the throne, lie does 
it as a friend, anil with the view of restoring it to that purity 
and wisdom whiili became it, and to that lustre in which h( 
loved to see it shine. 

It would not be necessary to mention Massing'T's Imita- 
TiON.s of his contemporaries, if such a practice had not been 
unduly attributed to him. Mr. M. Mason seems disposed to 
talk of passages remembered frem Shakspeaie. I5ul the 
practice is not very trequent, and whenever it docs occur, 
the obligation is too unimportant to be dwelt upon. Indeed, 
it may be alhrmed in general, tliat, though he may adopt 
occasional sentiments of Shakspeare, he can liaidly be said 
to copy his incidents or situations. Perhaps the nearest ap- 
proach to such an obligation is in The Emperor nf the Ea»t, 
where jealousy on account of the apple recalls to our mind 
the handkerchief of Othello. Yet even here the history itself 
may well be supposed to furnish the situation without assist- 
ance from any other quarter; aud the imitation is, after all. 
contined to a few scattered thoughts. It oU!;ht, indeed, to be 
allowed (since the subject is thus entered upon), that when 
such an imitation does take place, it is sometimes not quite 
so happy as the reader might wish. Either the thoughts are 
not so forcibly expressed as by Shakspeare, or they are 
given to persons whose characters do not so well agree with 
them. Tims, when Asambeg (Hencgado) repeats his deter 
miiiation to do something terrible, but what, he does not yet 
know, he reminds ns of a sentiment highly characterisiic of 
the wild and uiigoverned temper of Lear. But Asambeg is 
of a diti'erent ca>t. In the mid.-t ef his passion his interest 
is consulted ; he blusters indeed, but stops to calculate con- 
sequences, and in reality is a tame character. .Again, when 
imprecations are used against Richard, and guilty fear is to 
deprive him of the power of wielding his sword, we feel that 
the thought is natiiial. But when O verreach (" TVc/v fl ay to 
Haij Old JJebtn) tinds ihiit the curses of those whom he has 
undone are upon him, and take away his strength, we per- 
ceive an incou^i iiity A sword was the natural and pmper 
weapon of Kuh.ird, — the instrument by which 1 is sitiiaiion 
was lo be m.iiul. lined. Ovcireitchhjs a swonl neverintemled 
to be drawn : he enileavours to use it in the moment ol 
frenzy; jet talks of its failure in the terms of a baffled sol- 
dier, as if it woiilil no longer avenge his cause, or preserve 
his falling fortunes. 

This notice will be sullicient for the imitations attributed 
to Massinger, and the circumstances which attend them. In 
fact, he has bonowed little from his contemporaries, and has 
given to Milton alone perhaps as much sentiment as he has 
himself taken from Sh.ikspeare-. To some later writers he- 
has been too convenient a quarry. Without acknowleilg- 
nient, they have dug Ironi his scenes for the con.struction of 
their own, and have done him at once an injustice and an 
honour. By their unskilful use of his plundered matter, they 
have proved h<iw mud' he is their superior. The imitation 
of The Fatal Dowry in The Fair Penitent, \\a.f. been already 
noticed. If the reader will pass from one of these Plays to 
the other, he will hardly fail to acknowledge the truth of this 
asser' ion, bold as it may appear: he will fin I, notwithstanding 
the praises bestowed on Rowe ly Dr Johnson, that laboured 
softness and artificial senliment are but an ill exchange for 
the genuine feelings of natuie, and the genuine expnssion of 
them. Again, if he will coinp.ire The Guardian oi Mas-singer 
with the imitation of it in The Inconsfant of Farquliar, he 
cannot but observe how much the natural brisknes* ami llow- 
ing humour of Duiazzo are degraded in the forced levity and 
empty bustle of Old Mirabel. I am not certain that Lee 
remembered Massinger in his Theodoxins, or the Force of 
Love ; but he boasts of the reception of that piece by the 
public. Vet whoever will conipaie The Emperor of the 
^as/ with it, will soon learn to think favourably of Massinger 
on this account also ; and will wonder that his nature and 
force should be neglecled, while the public taste has been 
content to admire in Lee passion which never moves the 
soul, and vehemence which does but excite ridicule. 

From these few particulars some conclusion may be drawn 
respecting the genius and disposition of Massinger. Perhaps 
he cannot be called sublime. He (lots not, like Shakspeare, 
seize the soul, and in a moment pierce it with terror or .i«flic- 
' tion ; nor does he sustain it at will in transports beyouu the 



THE OLD LAW. 



527 



nsual lieii;l)t of nature. He moves 113 rather by the accumu- 
lation of ciicnnistances, than by single passages of 'iniisual 
sf reiiglh and iniveosion. He niclls too, rather than terrifies. 
Vet .vhile we suirendcr all our compassionate feelings to 
The Fatal Dowry, we must remember the horror excited by 
7'/ie Unimiural Combat ; horror inherent in the very situa- 
tions of tlie principal agents, and increased, with equal 
artilice and power, by dark and mysterious allusions to the 
causes of their strange enmity, and of the fearful Impreca- 
tions which they utter. He <)oes not venture into the ideal 
world, and create new personages and imagine strange agen- 
cies for them. His few ghosts deserve no mention. The 
good and bad spirit in The Viryin Martyr are not to be 
compared with the fantastic beings of Shak'speare : their 
appearance is, for the most part, human : and when their 
true nature breaks forth, they act in a manner which custom 
had already prescribed for them. The most imposing use of 
an event beyond the experience of common life occurs in 
The Picture ; yet this is an extraordinary triek of art, which 
appeals rather to ihe ear than the eye, and which, once 
allowed, suffices throughout the piece ; there is no magical 
apparatus, no visible agent conducting the tiain of surprise. 
His comic talent is not equal to his tragic power. His 
merit chiefly consists in the invention of comic situations ; 
and in these he is often remarkably happy. But the great 
support of comedy is dialogue, and in this he is deficient. 
In general it wants briskness and variety. Of course, we 
must not look into him for those characters whose wit pre- 
dominates through the piece, or whose fatuity i? the princi- 
pal cause of laughter. He has neither a Fahtaff nor a 
Bessus ; not even a master Stephen, or a Slender. Sylli, 
however small his pretensions, is his chief mirth-maker. 
Indeed, the Comedy of Massinger has a near connexion 
with history and the graver satire. He draws copious de- 
scriptions of the trifling or vicious manners of the age, and 
discovers strong purposes of moral correction, rather than 
smartness of conversation, and the attacks and defences of 
dramatic wit. Of this sort is The City Madam. This I 
regard as the chief effort of his Comedy, as The Fatal 
Dowry is of his Tragedy. These two Plays alone would be 
sufficient to create a high reputation. Pity for suffering 
virtue can hardly be excited in a stronger manner than in 
the latter. In the former, it is diflicidt to say which quality 
prevails ; the powerful ridicule of an unfeeling affectation, 
•or the just reprobation of hypocrisy. 

This determines the nuture of Masfinger's wiitings. He 
does not soar to the heights of fancy ; he cUvc llsamong men, 
and describes their business and their i.assions with judg- 
ment, feeling, and discrimination. He Ims a justness of 
principle which is admirably fitted to the best interests of 
human life ; and I know no writer of his class from whom 
more maxims of prudence, morality, or religion may be 
drawn. He is eminently successful in representing the len- 
der attachment of virtuous loVe, and in maintaining the true 
delicacy and dignity of the female character ; and in gene- 
ral he displays a warmth of zeal on the side of goodness, 
which at once pleases and elevates the reader. To this ex- 
cellence of sentiment he adds much strength and variety of 
talent, nor will any one doubt it who has perused these 
Plays with attention. The general chastene«s of language 
with which they are written, the peculiar s'egance of stjle 
In The Great Duke of Florence, and The Parliament of 
Love ; the united dignity and madness of passinn^of The 
Duke of Milan — the animation isnd heroism uf J%e liond- 
tnan, and the talent of discrimination added to those in 
The Maid of Honour ; the striking eloquence of The Ro- 
man Actor — the comic force of The Very fVomun — the 
strong ridicule and moral reprobation in 'Ihe New Hay to 
Pay Old Debts, and the peculiar playfulness of The Fie 
ture J these, and many others which minht be mentioned 
with equal justice, are incontrovertible proofs of a genius 
far beyond the common level. Cartwright h is invidiiuisly 
remarked the " wretched genius and dependent fires" of 
those who, in his time, wrote Plays for bread. This cannot 
be said of Massinger without Ihe greatest injustice. He has 
written not for his benefactors alone; his ociuntryowes hiin 
an obligation, ardit would be a reproach loour discernment 
\f 10 n;ach merit were still overlooked. Indeed it is very 



diflicult to account for the long inattention of which ,ie has 
hitherto to complain. The troubles which so soon followed 
the first appearance of these Plays, droot the curtain on 
Massinger, and every other genuine writer for the stage. 
Perhaps for about twenty years the stage was altogether 
silent. It might have been expected, however, that the 
Restoration, which revived several of the Plays of Sliak- ■ 
speare, and more of Beaumont and Fletcher, would have 
done some justice to Massinger. 

I am not sanguine about my conjecture, birt the following 
may be considered as one of the leading causes of the ne 
gleet which he experienced. It appears that the prevailing 
taste of those times was such as his scenes were not much 
calculated to gratify. An extraoidinary attachment burst 
forth to the swilt turns and graces of the stage, as Dryden 
terms them, and to the chase of wit briskly pursued in dra- 
matic conversation. Tliese qualities, as it was just now ob- 
served, do not distinguish Massinger. They were suppo.'^ed, 
at that time, to be possessed by Fletcher alone, and this 
probably, was tue reason of the marked preference which 
he obtained ; for we know from Dryden, that two of Fletch- 
er's Plays were acted for one of Shakspeare. As to the wit 
of Jonson, it was considered as too stiff for that age. But 
the chief injustice seems to rest with Dryden himself In 
his Essay on Dramatic Poetry, he praises others lor qua i 
ties of which Massinger might have been adduced as an ex- 
ample, and blames them for failings fri>m which he was free ; 
yet of Massinger no mention is made: and, probably, tliis 
was sufficient warrant for succeeding critics to pass by a 
name which so great a man had appeared not to know, or 
not to value. As to the attempts in the last century to make 
Massinger known through succeeding editions of liis works, 
they call for some acknowledgment on account of their mo- 
tive ; but the performance can hardly be mentiimed with- 
out indignation. Lord Bacon somewhere talks of the disser- 
vice done to literature by the " rash diWjence" of some 
" in the correction and editing of authors." One wmdd 
think he had looked forward to the treatment of pnor Mas- 
singer by Coxeier and Mr. M. Mason. But it is time that 
his obscured merit should at length appear in its proper 
light ; and Massinger has found, from the present editor, 
what has been so humanely wishetl for him— a vindication 
of his name in a pure and accurate text. 

One thing jet remains, to explain why I have taken apart 
in the present publication. The account is short and simple. 
Tlie editor, having already resolved on the publication, and 
prepared the text for the press, requested of me a revision 
of these Pliys, and such observations as the active discharge 
of professional, duties would allow nie to bestow on tliem. 
To this he was, doubtless, impelled by his known partiality 
to the judgment of his friend, and in some measine, per- 
haps, by the recollection that, in onr early days, we had 
read together some of the works of our dramatic writers. 
This statement, it is hoped, will excuse me with the pro- 
fessed lovers of the drama, who may find these observatiors 
of too serious a cast, or wanting that minu'c a^ quaintance 
with the stage which might be required. My chief atten- 
tion has long since been turned to other pursuits, nor have I 
thrust myself into this employment; neither, indeed, has 
any "calling" been "left" for it. Massinger has truly 
said, that to be able 

" to pierce to the depth 

Or write a comment on the obscurest poets, 
Is but an ornament." 
The great business of lite lias more solemn claims ; and it is 
a consolation toadd, that while this.act offriendship has been 
performed, the higher and more important duties hive not 
suffered. If, with this necessary reservation, the talent of 
Massinger has been at all unfolded, and especially, if his 
writings are now made more useful than they might other- 
wise have been, by the careful observation of his sulject 
and the pointing of his moral, I shall be satisfied. As to the 
rest, it is but a trifling service which can be perfc-rined by 
me in this, or perhaps any other, province of letters; but, 
to apply the words of a great man on a far higher occasion, 
" So have I been content to tune the instruments of the 
Mu.ses, that they may play who have better hands." — Dr. 
Irei,ano, 



POEMS 



SEVERAL OCCASIOl^S, 



PHILIP MASSINGER. 



TO MY HONORABLE FFREINDE S« 

FFRANCIS FFOLIAMBE, KNIGHT 

AND BARONET. 

S' with my service I proesent this boote 

A trifle, I confesse, but pray you looke 
Upon the sender, not his g'uift, with your 

Accustomde favor, and tlien't will endure 
Your serch the better. Somethinr;e then may bee 

You'l .finde in the perusall fit for mee 
To give to one I honor, and may pleade, 

In your defence though you descende to reade 
A Pamplet of this nature. May it prove 

In your free iudgement, though not worth your Hove 
Yet fit to finde a pardon and I'll say 

Upon your warrant that it is a plav. 

Ever ai your commandment 

Philip Wassincer. 



TO MY JUDICIOUS AND LEARNED FRIEND THE AUTHOR 

(jAMEs Shirley), upon his ingenioi s poem thf. 

GRATEFUL SERVANT, A COMEDY, PUBLISHED IN 
1630. 

Though I well know, that my obscurer name 

Listed with theirs* who here advance thy fame, 

CRnnot add to it, give me leave to be, 

Among I lie rest a modest votary 

At the altar of thy Muse. I dare not raise 

Giant hyperboles unto thy praise ; 

Or hope it can find credit in this age. 

Though I should swear, in each triumphant page 

Of this thy vvork there's no line but of weight, 

And jioesv itself shown at the height : 

Sijcli loniinon jilaces, friend, will not agree 

With thv own vote, and my integrity. 

I'll siftT a mid way, have clear truth my guide, 

And urge a praise which caiuiot be denied. 



• Lisfed with theirs,] John Fox, John Hall, Charles 
Alejn, Ihonias Randolph, Robert Slapyltun, Thomas Cra- 
ford, YVilliani Habingdoc. 



Here are no forced expressions; no rack'd phrase j 

No Babel compositions to amaze 

1 he tortured reader ; no believed defence 

To strengthen the bold Atheist's insolence ; 

No obscene syllable, that may compel 

A blush from a chaste maid, but all so well 

Express'd and order'd, as wise men must say 

It is a grateful poem, a good play : 

And such as read ingeniously, shall find 

Few have outstripp'd thee, many halt behind. 

Philip Massingeb* 

to his son j. s. upon his " minerva '." 

Thou art my son ; in that my choice is spoke : 
Thine with thy father's IMuse strikes equal stroke. 
It show'd more art in Virgil to relate. 
And make it worth the hearing, his gnat's fate. 



+ 'I'o his snri J. S. npon hU Minerva.] Coxetcr and 
Mr. i\l. Mason (or rather Coxeter alone, foi- |hhii Mr. M. 
Masun nt'iiiur know nor thought any ihijij; aboiit Ihc niaU 
ttr) say this liiile Poein was addressed to James Shirley i 



THE POEMS. 



^»9 



Than to conceive wliat those great mimU must be 

That soiioht, and found out, fruitful Itidy. 

And such as read and do not apprehend. 

And with ap|)iai!se, the ])urpose and the end 

Of this neat ])oem, in themselves confess 

A dull sti;pi(lit/ and barrenness. 

Metbinks 1 do behoW, in this rare birth, 

A teni|de buil' up to facetious IMirth, 

Pleased Pliusbus smiling on it : doubt not, then, 

But that the sutfrase of judicious men 

Will honour this J'halia ; and, for those 

That praise Sir Hevis, or what's worse in prose, 

Let them dwell still in ignorance, '1 o write 

In a new strain, and from it raise delight, 

As thou in this bast done, doth not by chance, 

But merit, crown thee with the laurel biaiich. 

Philip Massinger. 

SERO SED SERIO. 

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MY MOST SINGULAR GOOD 
LORD AND PATRON, PHILIP EARL OF PFMHROKE AND 
MONTGOMERY, LOHD-CH AMBERLAIN OF HIS MAJFSTy"s 
HOUSmOLD, ETC., UPON THE DEPLORABI E AND UN- 
IIMELY DEATH OF HIS LA 1 E TRULY NOBLE SON 
CHARLES LORD HERBERT, ETC. 

'TwAS fate, not want of duty, did me wrong ; 

Or, with the rest, my hymenieal song 

Had been presented, when the knot was tied 

That made the bridegroom and the virgin bride 

A bappv pair. I curs'd my absence then 

That hinder'd it, and bit my star-cross'd pen, 

Too busy in stage-blanks, and trifling rhyme. 

When such a cause call'd, and so apt a time 

To pay a general debt ;. mine being more 

Than they could owe, who since, or heretofore, 

Have labour'd with exalted lines to raise 

Brave piles, or rather pyramids, of praise 

To Pembroke and his family : and dare I, 

Being silent then, aim at an elegy ? 

Or hope my weak Rluse can bring forth one verse 

Deserving to wait on the sable hearse 

Of your late hopeful Charles 1 Lis obsequies 



and Davies, in his Life of Massinger, reasons upon it asan 
indisputable fact. The truth, however, is, iti..i llie^e initial 
letters belong to James Smith, a man of coiisiderable wit 
and learning, and a dignitary of the church. He was the 
author of several short pieces, and, among tlie rest, of that 
to which this, with othei commendatory poems, is ptetixtd, 
7'he Innovation of Petielope and Ulysses, a bin lesqiie satire 
upon some incoherent translation of those da) s, and the 
prototype, perhaps, of Cotton's Virgil and The Rehearsal. 
Wood says, that Smith " wasmnch in esietiu with tlie poli- 
tical wits of tliat day, particularly with I'hilip Massinger, 
who called him his son." — Athen. Oxon. Vol. 11. p. 397. 

• Charles Lord Herbert, whose early death is here la- 
mented, vva« the eldest surviving son of I'hilip Earl of 
Pembroke and Montgomery. He was made a knight of tlie 
Bath at the coronation of Charles I., and married, in IU34, 
to Mary, daughter of the great duke of Buckingham, soon 
after which he went abroad (for she was too youn;^ ^or coha- 
bitation) and died of the small-pox at Florence, in January, 
1635-6. 



Exact the mourning of all hearts and eves 

'that knew him, or loved virtue. Ho that would 

Write what he was, to all po.sterity, should 

Have ample credit in himself, to borrow, 

Nay, make his own, the saddest accents sorrow 

Ever express'd, and a more moving quill 

Than Spenser used when be gave Astrophil 

A living ejjicedium. For poor me. 

By truth 1 vow it is no flattery, 

I from my soul wish (if it might remove 

Grief's burthen, which too feelingly you prove), 

I'hoiigli I have been ambitious of fame. 

As poets are, and would preserve a name. 

That, my toys burnt, I had lived unknown to men, 

And ne'er had writ, nor ne'er to write again, 

A'siin wish, and to be scorn 'd ! can my foul dross 

With such pure gold be valued ? or the loss 

Of thousand lives like mine merit to be 

The same age thought on, when his destiny 

Is only mentioned 1 No, my lord, his fate 

Is to be prized at a higher rate ; 

Nor are the groans of common men to be * 

Blended with those which the nobility 

Vent hourly for him. That great ladies mourn 

Ilis sudden death, and lords vie at his urn 

Drops of compassion ; that true sorrow, fed 

With showers of tears, still bathe the widow'd 

bed 
Of bis dear spouse ; that our great king and 

queen 
(To grace your grief) disdain'd not to be seen 
Your royal comforters ; these well become 
The loss of such a hope, and on his tomb 
Deserve to live : but, since no more could be 
Presented, to set off his tragedy, 
And with a general sadness, why should you 
(Pardon my boldness!) pay more than his due. 
Be the debt ne'er so great? No stoic can, 
As you were a loving father, and a man. 
Forbid a moderate sorrow ; but to take 
Too much of it, for his or your own sake, 
If we may trust divines, will rather be 
Censured repining, than true piety. 
1 still presume too far, and more than fear 
My duty may offend, pressing too near 
Your pi ivate passions. I thus conclude. 
If now you show your passive fortitude 
In bearing this affliction, and prove 
You take it as a trial of heaven's love 
And favour to you, you ere long shall see 
Your second care* return'd from Italy, 
To bless his native England, each rare part, 
'J'hat in his brother liv'd and joy'd your heart, 
IVansf'err'd to him, and to the world make known 
He takes possession of what's now bis own. 
Your honour's 

Most bumble and faithful servant, 

Philip Massinoeb. 

• Your second care."] Philip Herbert, who sarvivedbba 
and succeeded to his title and estates. 



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